by Emily Tebbutt

Created on: September 19, 2009   Last Updated: September 20, 2009

My parents had their favourites. We were divided as a family. My Brother and Sister with my mother and I was with my father.

I was favoured by my father, and was very often treated, in my siblings eyes they despised me for this. What they didn't know was why he was spoiling me.

Our conflicts were endless. My mother, in my eyes hated me. My family continued to call me spoilt. It hurt me because they didn't know that I was protecting them.

My relationship with my mother was non-existence and it was continuous battle with my father and my brother, as my father for unknown reasons hated him. My father would beat my brother up senseless and put him down till he could know longer cope and shut down on the whole world around him, my brother didn't care for know one as he was believed to think he wasn't worth living.

My heart went out to him everyday and I loved him so much and forever tried to protect him, but would only result in me being beaten too.

So I sat back whilst he sat his bedroom, isolated and was not allowed to come out for food nor water. Starving. It has broken my heart as I sat downstairs with my father, accepting gifts, treating me. I had too. My mother was unaware of all this as she was doing night shifts.

I would try to sneak food up. I couldn't understand why my father did this to him. But my brother still despised me, as he thought I was my fathers little girl and enjoyed seeing him hurt.

It was actually the opposite. Whilst everyone continued to think I had it lucky. Behind closed doors, my father was sexually abusing me in the horrific ways possible. If I refused to do anything with him, blackmail would be in order. Everything was stopped, the whole family's income. My father would be angry all the time and would take this out on my mother, brother, sister and even the pet dog.

I was spoilt so he could get to me. This had been going on all my life, sixteen years of it. And whilst everyone thought I was his favourite and the whole family split into two, there was a reason is be hide why I was his favourite.

My earliest memory was when I was only seven years of age, and my father had done his dirty deed on me, he took me downstairs and gave me chocolates and biscuits, whilst my sister and brother where in bed and my mother at work..

I believed this was a token of his love, and if I did what he asked he wouldn't beat me up no more, I would get treats and he would love me.

As the years went by, he would get me drunk, and made me to believe

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