This is a true story that was sent to me by the author. She tells what her life was like with her sister. Sibling abuse is happining every day. Children terrorized by a sibling have pain that cannot be understood or felt by others who have never been abused by a sibling. When you read this true story I urge you to try and put yourself into mind of the author. If this story does not make you cry, as it did me, then you have not fully understood the intense pain of the author as she writes. 

This is a wonderful story for sibling abused children to read. It will show that surviving the abuse of a sibling is possible. I hope parents who read this will use the information to understand how some sibling abuses happen.

We have another story of sibling abuse titled "Sibling Abuse: A Survivors Story" you should read.

PARENTS STOP SIBLING ABUSE IN YOUR HOME.

My Sister Is A Psychopath
By R.J. McGuire

 
 
My sister Crystal is a psychopath.
According to my parents, Crystal was different from day one. She was an unhappy, discontented baby and her personality didn’t get any better with age. She physically, mentally and emotionally abused me, every chance she got. The abuse from Crystal was the worst kind; the subtle, sneaky kind. My earliest memory is when I was 6 years old. We lived next door to a little boy named Duane who was convinced that I was his future wife. He brought me flowers and wanted to be with me all the time. One day, we were outside playing and the wind blew my skirt up. I was mortified. Crystal ran screaming into the house, acting as if she had just witnessed a murder and told my father that I had lifted my skirt up to show Duane my panties. She made such a scene that dad believed her and I was hauled into the house and spanked with a yard stick until my bottom was stinging with pain. As I was sitting on the couch crying, Crystal waited until I looked at her and then she smiled the most evil smirky smile I’ve ever seen. But who would believe me? I had fallen from grace, in my father’s eyes.

We moved to a new rented house when I was 7. The house had a large basement with a separate room in it where Crystal forced me to play ‘doctor’ with her. She made me completely undress and then she would viciously poke and prod me, calling it a ‘doctor’s check up.’ If it had not been sexual abuse, she would not have threatened ‘if you tell mom or dad, I’ll hurt you so bad.” So, I didn’t tell.

When I was 8, we moved to another rented house. I quickly made friends with Linda, who lived next door. Several times I can remember Crystal spying on us, threatening to tell dad all kinds of lies unless I went home and did her chores. Mom was often sick with Colitis and depended on Crystal’s help, so I knew I did not stand a chance against the constant head-slaps, shoves and lies.

Another year went by and my father finally had a house built for us. I stayed in my room a lot or at my best friend Kim’s; anywhere I could hide from Crystal. The abuse continued. Crystal’s verbal abuse was constant. She told my two older sisters to stay away from me, telling me “get out of here, big ears. We don’t want you around us. You’ll give us cooties.” My sisters were too scared to go against Crystal, often laughing with her; so I was alone. Crystal’s constant chant to me was “Nobody likes you. You’re boring. You don’t even HAVE a personality. You can’t even THINK for yourself. If your friends order chocolate milk at school, YOU order chocolate milk. You’re less than nothing.”

One time when I was about 12, my parents were away and I was playing the piano. Crystal hollered from the bedroom for me to stop. I kept playing. I was sick of being controlled by her. She came barreling out of the bedroom and SLAMMED the piano lid down on my fingers. I had marks on my hands for days. When I tried to tell my parents, Crystal lied and said I had been banging the piano keys with a toy, which she knew mom hated. Again, my parents believed her and again, I had to endure the Crystal- smirk. By this time, Crystal was confident that all she had to do was lie to get her way. My parents raised us in a mind-controlling religion and since they didn’t want to believe that any child of theirs was capable of blatantly lying to them and since Crystal was older, they always believed her over me. Crystal, being the hypocrite that she is, still belongs to my parents’ religion and since I don’t, I feel like they still believe her over me. As we grew older, my father regularly encouraged me to forgive Crystal for the sake of ‘family’ and ‘being right with God’ and God knows I’ve tried but things did not improve.

When Crystal was pregnant with her second child, we were at my parents’ house and she was sick, but wanted to bake my father a birthday cake. So, I offered to help. While we were alone, she told me it was a ‘special kind of cake’ and that I needed to pour the batter in each pan “to the top.” I questioned this but she insisted, so I poured it to the top. As I expected, half-way through baking, the cake batter spilled out all over the oven. With Crystal laughing, my father made fun of me, saying “what in the world is wrong with you, Beck? Can’t you even bake a cake?” I was so angry.

A few years later, after Crystal had suffered two miscarriages, she and I were, again, at my parents’ house. She was telling them how badly she wanted another baby but needed someone else to carry it for her. After an encouraging look from my father, I offered to be her surrogate. At first, she acted excited and then, in front of everyone, she said “Ohhhh, wait. I forgot; you used to smoke. No way do I want YOU to have any baby of mine.” I cannot tell you all of the emotions that went through my entire body; anger, humiliation, sadness and hopelessness, to name a few.

Soon after this incident, Crystal wrote me a letter asking for custody of my son; my only child. When I refused, she called Children’s Services on me and told them tons of lies, almost causing me to lose custody of my son. Five years ago, she did the same thing to my niece and is now raising her son Joey. He’s the only child in Crystal’s household who gets spankings.

While I have gone on with my life, raised my son, have a happy marriage and a career I love, my sister’s abuse still haunts me because I will never understand why abuse happens in families and why the abuser gets away with it. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that ‘family’ is everything. As far as I’m concerned, sometimes family can be nothing more than a group of people that we are programmed to feel responsible to care about. So, I started my own program. I have cut my sister Crystal out of my life for good. Recently, I missed my mother’s 80th birthday celebration because I refuse to be in the same room with Crystal. While some people might call that self-pity, I call it survival.

Thank you.

R.J. McGuire