mother knives

Date: 2/3/2017

My mom got mad at me for something I said when we were talking in the kitchen. She started throwing knives at me and I was trying to talk to her and calm her down and I was holding my hands up to block the knives from hitting vitals. Every scar made by the knives looked like week-old scars or something like that. I was backing away from her, out of the kitchen. She was following me out of the kitchen still throwing kitchen knives at me-the kind with the silver handles in our knife set. Since she was following me, I called for my step dad and as he was coming, I went downstairs in the basement where my sisters were playing and I locked the door. I was relieved that they were downstairs out of the way and I went into my room and called my boyfriend to come pick me up and I was debating with myself whether or not to call social services to ensure me sisters were safe. I thought about it in my head. She never got that mad with them but what if she did when they became my age. I felt kind of guilty for not calling anyone about it but I had mixed feelings about it because I didn't know who'd be taking care of them and how well they would do it if she weren't. I also considered that she may never get as angry and abusive with them as she had with me, hopefully. While waiting in my room, I packed to leave. When my boyfriend came to pick me up, I went outside with a book bag full of school supplies and since of my things. I didn't bother explaining to my parents who he was. I left my house keys hanging on the front door inside. As I got into his small black truck, I wasn't worried about money or where I'd live because I figured he'd take care of me and his family would be welcoming of me and I would continue applying for jobs. I was relieved that I was finally free from that house and happy that I'd get to be with him.