Yea, sure. Pictures were only taken when my grandmother made me and my siblings dress up for Easter. The temporary smiles we had on our faces where indicative of my guardians having a good day. The presents at x-mas were out of guilt; guilty of knowing and allowing my brother to continue to live with me after knowing he was molesting me. The birthdays were never happy. Only when they had that stupid ass Polaroid camera and told you to “say cheese or I’ll beat your ass!” was the only view the outside world got. The dresses were pretty, the hair was always neatly combed, but that wasn’t for me or for my other siblings, it was for themselves. It was for when CPS was called for the 5-6th time just for them to shrug their shoulders and give the usual, “Well ms. Barnes we don’t see a problem here, continue what you’re doing!” and walk out the door. I was child, but only in picture. I was confined, in reality. No riding your bike - that we got you - up and down the street, stay in front of the house. No leaving the porch even though you’re 8-fucking-teen. Clean my clothes, wash my dishes, scrub my walls and don’t you dare forget to clean the floor boards! You stay here in the house with me, I’ll give you what you need! Yea, I’ll let your abusive, alcoholic mother, move in so she can damn near rip your hair out of your head when I ask her to do it in the morning. She hates getting woken up out of a drunken stupor to be the mother she never was, but hey, you need your hair combed! Yea, let her move in even though you beg me not to. Her talking to walls and telling you how much she hate you is no skin off my back. Just ignore it. If you complain too much to me about it, I’ll eventually argue with my daughter and then you and your siblings will chime in. She may not be a mom, but she’s my daughter and you will respect her. You think the extension cords and knife beatings were bad with me? Oh, don’t get her upset, especially if she’s drunk! You will go to church and don’t you dare question me about it! Your ass kickings can get much worse. All I will have to do is wait till you got in the tub to beat your ass. The stings will have a much more brutal impact on your body. You will be scarred for life. Or we can simply have your big strong brother hold you down while I beat you with an extension cord. Your mother and I will turn a blind eye to all the molesting your brother did, it never happened in our eyes. Even though countless of relatives came forward saying the same thing. Oh! They didn't know what they were talking about! We never really cared how it will affect you in your adult life - we didn’t think that far. You’ll be fine! Even though all the lies and having you lie to SSI so I can get a check for you, and making you go to all those therapy sessions, I never understood where all your anger came from. I thought it was from me calling you ugly and saying that you’d never amount to shit in life. I didn’t really care what it really was. 5 SSI checks plus mine? You were the happiest child on the planet to me. I kept you fed. I kind of kept you clothed. You damn sure had a roof over your head though and for that you should be grateful, right?

Did I elaborate enough?