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Right, I said I'd rant about Mom-bot so now I am! I really hate sounding whiny, so I'll try to keep it too a minimum but I'm not making any promises.

The first punishment that I really remember was when I was four or five years old. I belive that we (mom and I) were at one of her friend's houses but I can't...really...remember any details...
I ended up doing something wrong (or SOMETHING, I don't know) and she pushed me into a small bathroom, turned off the light, and locked the door. How long I was there I don't know, but when I was let out I had two of my now several phobias. Claustrophobia and fear of the dark (can't remember the name of that exactly). I have long since gotten rid of my fear of the dark, but now I'm still claustrophobic. I can remember hearing my breathing getting faster and feeling like the walls were to close together and there wasn't enough air in the room....

After that, nothing really significant happens. Until, (dun dun duuuun) the fourth grade.

Worst year of my life...that was one of my mom's more violent-if you could call it that-ages when I was punished in a couple weird and not exactly orthodox ways. I already told you about being kicked out into the rain, but after I typed that, I looked more into that year and found something that REALLY caused me to loathe her. Well, here we go.

As usual, I don't remember what I did just how I was punished. Strange, isn't it? Anyway, I was being yelled, nay, screamed at, when out of nowhere she raised her hand like she was going to slap me. I reacted automatically, and hunched over to present less of a target. She never did really hit me, but whenever she yells at me now, I think, "Don't hit me, pleasepleaseplease don't hit me...." I actually whimpered and cried in front of her, which really enrages me. I HATE how she can make me do that.

Eh, I think that that's enough ranting for today. Watch for part three, kiddies!!
~chan