P5 of why I don't like living with my aunt...

Continuing from the last post, it was killing me that he had the audacity to tell my siblings that I didn't love them anymore because I told him no, and I wanted to go to my first prom. Any other normal dad would have been proud. Any other normal dad, He shouldn't have been so possessive and cruel to pit his children against each other. Telling one or the other that they don't love each other because they wouldn't do something for him—mind you, he can't even take care of his own kids. They're barely financially able to keep the house. I called him out on everything, like his lack of ability to tell the kids to take a shower; they smell like death. His inability to feed them properly is an issue. McDonald's is not an everyday food, fast food is not an everyday food, and feeding your kids only when you feel like it is not okay either!! It crawls underneath my skin. It makes me burn inside to know that I will never be able to tell them that I truly loved them. I have three little siblings: 1. My sister, Samantha 2. My little brother, George 3. My little little brother, Samson... I love them dearly. So much, it's painful. I even used my own money to get them their first Easter basket. I paid for all three of their baskets, and I had them have their first Easter egg hunt, all arranged by me. I was so happy; I was so overjoyed that I got to have my first Easter with them, and he took that away. He took it all away because I told him no, because I put a boundary down. It crawls under my skin; it even still gets to me to this day. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. It's not true. I loved you guys so much; I still do. I'm the oldest of my siblings, and I felt like every time I went over to their house, I was taking care of them. I was helping them get dressed, feeding them, and telling them what is right and what is wrong... And I so obviously know they were being neglected... And there was nothing I could do about it. And I hate it...