He’s doing something bad that maybe he doesn’t understand because of his mental state. I should have warned him more. He already has a record of hating me more than the others so I didn’t get into it. When he left me there, I panicked. My social anxiety acted up more than ever. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble. But they all say he deserves o be in trouble for what he’s done. “I’m fine with it.” That’s the lie I tell every time. He controls me under the fear that he will hurt me again so I just stay out of it. “Thanks for getting me in trouble” he says. It wasn’t my fault he left me without a word. I had to call my grandparents to come get me because my parents were 300 miles away. He was super mad at me. The scariest part was that he didn’t yell. I could see it in every inch of his body that he wanted to hurt me. He was holding it in so much that I thought he would explode. He was driving me home and I think he swerved off the road a few times. I was so scared he was gonna crash the car to hurt me or himself or both. We had been home alone together for two days. My parents were going to be home late that night. When he pulled in the driveway, I ran into the house into my room, belted the door shut and barricaded it. I unlocked my window so I could make a quick escape if he came at me. I found a pocket knife and sharpened it using a stone. I sat in silence for about 6 hours until my parents got home. I slept bad that night. The next afternoon, we were having dinner with our grandparents. It turned into my grandpa yelling about what this family has become and how we need to take care of each other. He was yelling about the incident that happened yesterday. I felt guilty that I had caused all of this. I know I hadn’t but I was stuck in the middle of it. I always let the other people win the argument but now their arguing over me. We got home and I went to my room. About 30 minutes passed before another argument broke out between him and my parents. I found a blade and dragged it across my thigh. One. Two. Three. Four. They just kept coming. I socked an entire paper towel with crimson shine. I went to the shower and washed up. When I came down, I could hear my parents crying in the kitchen. I just stayed out of it and walked down to my room in the basement. And I started to cry.