Being a mother figure for my two younger siblings has not always been an easy task. Before I continue with my story, let me first introduce myself. My name is Bettye, with a "ye" and not just "y". My momma always told me to let people know exactly how my name was spelt, to let them know that I was different and not the typical Betty; that I was special and unique. This is one of the few pieces of advice I remember my mother sharing with me. I sometimes wonder if I am special and unique because I did not grow up in the typical household. My father, well I wish I knew I him. My momma told me that he couldn't handle the news of having a child and so when she was 8 months pregnant, he left us. After I was born, we moved to Atlanta, Georgia, because most of my mother's immediate family was there, and we have been here for the last 16 years. So yes, I am 16 years old, born on the hot day of June 8th. I am the first of three kids. My younger brother and sister, who are twins, were born four years later, after my mother became involved in another serious relationship. Brian. Yes, that was his name. Mr. Brian is what I called him. I thought he was one of the greatest people in the world. When he entered into my mother's life I saw her at one of the happiest points ever. He gave her everything she could ever want and soon, my mother quit her job at the local department store. He took care and supported all off us. I guess this is why my momma wouldn't believe it when I told her that he tried to molest me. She told me to shut my mouth and go to my room. Before that incident, I felt like I could tell could my mother anything. We had a very close relationship with one another but then this dwindled after I told her about Mr. Brian's actions.
It was at this point that our relationship faded and I saw my mother act differently towards my siblings and I. Her and Mr. Brian would go out to late night parties and not return until the next morning. I would wake...
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