My name is Luna Kendrick. My first life started as any other person's would, a hospital, parents, and siblings. I was the third child with twin older brothers named Timothy and Thomas. They were only four years older than me at the time. Growing up I noticed that my parents were not as happy as the other kids' parents. Father would always make mother cry all alone and would be gone all the time while mother always had to be home, or he would get angry.
As the years went by, I gained three more sisters, Janet, Mia, and Willow. Janet came 3 years after me and it was during this time that we moved into an apartment complex. Father made a friend with the man next door who seemed nice, but he liked me a little too much. His "kindness" was my nightmare.
When Mia came two years after that, we moved away to a small town in another state. Then finally Willow was born almost 5 years after moving to this new state. During this time, my parents only got worse, mother would always say that I need to put family first in everything while my brothers could do as they please. My sisters and I did chores while they only chopped wood or took out the trash. It was unfair but I'm the eldest girl, so I have to be the example, that's what mother always said. If they misbehaved, then I failed my duty and would be punished.
As I started into my teen years, I realized that the relationship between my parents was not healthy. Father would shame mother for little things, spend money on things we didn't need, he never kept a job for long but always sabotaged mother if she got one instead. We were always moving, never staying in the same place.
Mother was not much better, she expected perfection from children and placed what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders. I couldn't join clubs or go out with friends because I needed to watch my sisters after school. I had to have great grades, perfect behavior, and a spotless reputation ago teachers and peers so that my sisters would know how to behave. If I made a compliant or did not measure up to this ideal, then I was punished. If they did not behave then I was punished.
I think this is when my family started to become my cage. I could not do anything without my mother's approval. My family was my life without them I am nothing. That is how I thought of myself, the world was so colorless. My life was nothing but school and family. I had no friends because we were always moving. I was invisible to my peers, an easily forgotten character standing in the background of my own story. Then my parents got divorced and I foolishly thought this would make them better. How naïve I was back then. They only got worse, father would constantly harass mother and now that mother needed to work, the weight I carried only got heavier and heavier
Bullies found me an easy target, after all I can't retaliate without breaking mother's rules and making a scene. I'm sure mother noticed the bruises, but she pretended like she didn't. When I did finally snap, I hit the lead bully but was nearly expelled for it by the principle who valued men over women. Mother didn't punish me for it, she must have felt bad about ignoring it in the first place.
Time pasted and father's harassment only got worse, so mother moved us all in with her new boyfriend. He started out as a good man until an accident at work, then he slowly started to change. It started out as just irritation at being interrupted during a movie with mother. Then as they got serious and started planning their wedding he grabbed and shook Janet when she made him angry by talking back to him. I tried to tell mother, but she said that the wedding is planned and it's not stopping for a "minor" disagreement.
Some might ask why we didn't just live with father but that wasn't possible because he no longer saw us as his children, we were only pawns to be used against mother. I often wonder if he ever saw us as his precious children, but he no longer wants to see us. Father has abandoned us because of me. I don't understand why he did it, all I wanted to know was if the rumor that my new stepmother was pregnant was true. I was excited about the possibility of a new sibling, but father accused me of being disrespectful and forbid me from speaking with him until I can respect him. I was confused, angry, and hurt so I spoke my mind for once without meaning to, telling him he never had my respect to begin with. Oh, how I lived to regret that when my sisters cried after he refused to see us anymore. They never knew that I was the cause, I wonder if they would hate if they did.
When I was thirteen, mother had all of us in therapy, but I could never trust any of the therapist because they would tell mother everything we would talk about in our sessions. My ability to trust was thoroughly broken and I'm not sure that I even have the ability to trust anymore. Everything hurt and I had three screaming matches with mother. The words she said would hurt and always stuck with me. I could never win so I stopped fighting. I couldn't even end it because family had to come first so I became the compliant daughter she wanted once again and locked my own feelings away.
Eventually, after I turned sixteen, mothers husband left us. I was relieved because I thought that meant things would get better. I guess I still had some naivete left in me. It's true we no longer had to walk on eggshells in our own home and were no longer blamed for things we didn't do, but things were far from better for me. While my sisters were feeling better, the weight I carried only got heavier as their freedom increased. After all, they are my responsibility as the eldest girl.
The world was bleak and even on happy days, my family was a constant reminder of my duties as the eldest girl. Tim and Theo ended up going away for school, but we were never really close as we got older. I think it was because I envied them for their lack of responsibility and abundance of freedom to do as they please, that put the distance between us. Even my sisters felt distant because I was the one responsible for looking after them when mother was working or preoccupied with something else. I was alone but convinced myself that I was ok with that as long as it was for family.
During my senior year I held two jobs while going to school so I could afford to buy myself a car for college which I also was left to afford on my own. I thought I wanted to be Social Worker. Once I left home things started out great, but I quickly spiraled. I failed my classes and had to go back home. After getting a taste of freedom the chains at home suffocated me and all I wanted was to be alone. I quit my job and rarely left my room. Mother had had enough and lectured me on my behavior. I just wanted her to stop so I did get up and get a job. I think she might have thought that she helped me, but nothing really changed. I only did as I was told like machine.
I tried community college several times but failed each time increasing the debt in my name. I moved into an apartment and got a small fluffy dog and a cat hoping it would make the emptiness inside go away and for a time it did or rather it masked it. No matter how hard I tried I just could not stay on track and eventually I was evicted from my apartment at age twenty-three and had to go back to living with mother which force me to give up my cat, but my dog stayed with me.
Everything hurt all over again worse than ever before. This time my time away from home had allowed me to put my family at a distance, it allowed me to finally think for myself. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or not because now the thought of ending the pain became a constant temptation now that family wasn't my everything. The thought of my family's feelings if I were to pass on was no longer a deterrent. I guess I was programmed so thoroughly that I couldn't function out in the world like every other adult could. Realizing this was like a deadbolt on my cage.
My sisters thought they understood but they didn't, not even a little bit because they were raised differently from me. They had freedom, I didn't. They had friends; I didn't even know where to start. Their smiles were real, mine were almost always forced. At the age of Twenty-two, I already felt as if I had lived a century. I was ready to move on, so I found some pain medication and sat in my car staring at them.
I was scared but I was also excited. I had nothing to lose and hoping for an apology was just wishful thinking. Mother didn't even bother the remember the things she said, nor did she think that she did anything wrong. She would only concede that she was tough on me, that's it. After staring at the pills for almost an hour I finally took them and as I drifted off to sleep my fear melted away and I felt a blissful release. Finally, the pain was gone. That was how my life as Luna Kendrick ended, and my new life began.