Well… I’m Ethan, and this is my story. Buckle up!
The first time the demon who was supposed to be my father came into my room, I was 5. I don’t remember it specifically like others who have survived abuse can… but I remember that it happened. I remember that after that night, for the next ten-ish almost 11 years, it was a basically a nightly visit. Before you go making your own assumptions let me give you an actual fact. At 5 years old, I learned that love between people was shown through physical acts, no matter if it was between a boy and girl, a boy and boy, or girl and girl. I grew up thinking that EVERYONE was living life the same way! (good luck wrapping your heads around that) My entire life was wrapped up in a psychosis developed because of an interaction between [gotta find something to call him because I refuse to say his name anymore and will never call him dad again] and me. What I have come to realise, is that I was/am a victim of a form of Stockholm Syndrome. I thought that was I was allowing to happen was keeping everyone happy. He didn’t beat us when he got to have me. He didn’t yell as much. He was nicer. So after about two years, I just accepted that that was my responsibility.
Over the years, shit started to go wrong. From 7-12 years old, I started to change… slowly. I thought I was gay for that time. I thought that I was weird. I thought that I deserved what was happening to me. I used to be skinny. I mean LITTTLEEEEEEEE. But I started to eat my feelings. At 12 years old I could eat a large pizza to myself. Not that that’s a big deal… but it is. IF you know anything about eating disorders or how the brain can confuse things as helpful that really aren’t… you know why that is incredibly dangerous. Anyways, I am entering my teen years in this dark, secluded place. The Ethan that people saw as happy, easy going, loving, caring, kind… was disappearing… fast. I started to shut myself in. I started acting out EVERYWHERE I was. I started using language I knew was bruuuuuutal to the ear, and I didn’t care. By the time I was 14 I was put into Air Cadets. To CURB my attitude problem. Me. The one who has AWESOME respect for people with authority… in Cadets… where people yell at you… for not following rules…. Me. Yea. SO, into cadets I went where I showed the squadron that things REALLY can get worse! I talked back, I picked fights, I dated… A LOT. I had lost my “real” virginity my first year in, during an out of town excursion where they were teaching us to survive. Apparently I was already a survivor so I chose to show someone else how to keep warm if you’re ever stranded in the middle of now where… with minimal supervision.
Lets interrupt this story for a commercial brought to you by a child who fell in love with music at an early age. I was forced to learn the piano before I was allowed to choose another instrument. Junior High I picked up a trumpet, and LOVED it. Music was my first safe haven. When cadets happened, I joined their marching band and picked up drum sticks for the first time. I learned precision marching while using the music to stay alive. Anyone who has their kids in cadets, or was in it themselves knows that during the summer months, you can apply to go to camp. Now at 14, I was beginning to hate my home life, so when I heard that the band camp, was a full 6 weeks! Away from hell, with people my age…. And music?! FFFFFFFF yes sign me up! First summer wasn’t so bad! I got to compete against other drummers from around Canada. I met a nice girl. Made some solid friends. Made some enemies. My attitude, did NOT improve BUT I was content not being home so I “behaved” myself so I could go again the following year. Fast forward to 15 year old, 220lb angry Ethan. Ethan who is starting to understand that being as big as he was…could be useful for making bullies…stop bullying. I was made fun of for being fat. For being weak. For being soft. for being gentle hearted. This started in junior high and continued until the summer before high school.
Summer 2005. Band camp round 2. I get a girlfriend within 4 days. I make friends with my corp, with my sergeants, and with one of the Military Police Officers. (side note this camp is held on an army base, fully functional so the MP’s are real and the law) While we are supposed to be practicing, Im in one of the sound proof practice rooms with my best friend his lady and my lady. Cuddling and just hanging out. In cadets there is a rule for this sort of thing. Its called “The 6-inch Rule”, meaning there had to be 6 inches of space between you and another person at all times! Why is this important to my story? Because befriending my sergeants meant I could get away with things the rest of the base couldn’t.
Enter this Douche Canoe. There was a guy, who I had had problems with the year before… and he was from my home squadron. We weren’t friends, and we rapidly became enemies. At EVERY chance he would try to steal my girlfriend. He would stir up trouble for me just to get me away from her. Like a real A-hole. Now, this summer my younger brother joined me at the camp and this POS figured if he couldn’t get to me he would get him. Calling him all sorts of names, threatening him with violence and of course calling him the N-word. NOW I hate the kid. He wont come near me anymore because he is a coward. The last time he came near me, I told him to ffff off, he called me a nigger and spat at me. Well by the time the spit hit me I was already up from being seated on the floor and trying to get after him. It took all 4 of the people in the room, plus the 3 officers to pull me back into the room where I turned and punched a huge dent into the metal wall that made up some of the sound proofing. Scared the poop out of everyone that witnessed it. Fast forward about a week, he threatens my brother and word gets to my ear, I head down the dorm hallway and he is waiting with a knife. I cuss him out and warn him that if he so much as looks at my brother again, I would force feed him his own heart.
Apparently uttering death threats is against the law, so the MP get involved and sit us down. He threatens me in front of the police so we are split up, I get moved into a new squad but my brother doesn’t, so he is stuck there. About 2 weeks later, I had made a name for myself as The Protector. Bullies had no chance of getting away with anything on that base without me hearing about it and dealing with it. I was so well known that the staff wouldn’t even intervene anymore. Id get written up along with the person I had just handled, and that would be it. Until the DC took a shot at my brother again. By the time I made it to the room where he was he already had his knife out again… this time, I didn’t say anything. I tackled him before he knew what was happening. Broke his hand by slamming it on a bed frame so he’d lose the weapon. NOW it was on. This goof was about to bear witness to the evil that was now at the center of my being. We wrestled a bit, before I noticed the window was open. We were on the third floor of the dorm, so when I stood up with him in a headlock all I thought was “enough of this shit” and out the window he went! Lucky for him, there was a MASSSIVE MOD Tent outside that he landed on. He broke his leg, but much to my frustration that was it. MPs were involved, officers were involved, blah blah blah. During the initial investigation, enough people had witnessed his racism and ignorance that I was let off with a week detained, he was kicked out.
Now this part of my story is important because of what happened next. ONE person. One SINGLE human, chose to ask me in private “Whats going on?”. THAT WAS IT! ONE. FUCKING. PERSON. Asked me what was going on to make me so angry… and in that moment I felt free of the darkness so I told her exactly what was happening to me at home. I was no longer angry, I was hurt, I was devastated, I was broken. Yvonne is her name. or Sergeant Gaudet at the time. What I didn’t know was that she had to tell the officers in charge because it was her responsibility with the child safety act or something like that. They told he police, and the Zebra Foundation took the lead and started the investigation that would wind up with my brother being removed from the house and eventually fuckface being arrested.
It was a hard road after that, once shit-for-brains was gone I went off the deep end. With no fear of anything anymore my life quickly devolved. I wound up at a house party one night, beat upa few people and was immediately hired to be the bouncer for that house… which started me on a wonderful gang related lifestyle.