P4 of why I don't like living with my aunt...

I remember vividly when my uncle We'll just make up a name for him, Terry He came out of town to where I live to tell me that my dad died. I didn't want to believe him; I screamed and screamed and cried and told him it's not true. I yelled at my aunt because at that point she wasn't letting me see him either. I don't blame her for it, but I just wanted to see him once before he died. I had a sense that it was going to happen. My father drank himself to death, which is why I don't believe in liking alcohol. I've never understood it. Every time I've tried it, I said I'd rather lick the floor; it was pretty nasty... I remember when I was super little. I would make a blanket fort between my dad's legs and put a blanket over them, then put a bunch of rabbits in there so I could pretend that I was a rabbit burrowing. I would pull out all of my rabbit stuffed animals and ask him with each individual one, "Do you like this one, Daddy?" "Do you like this one too? " I remember he would tell me, "Yes, baby, I like it." Like I said in my last post, the dad I grew up with is not the same dad who tried to neglect me was... And the little part I didn't get to tell you guys yet, I was actually adopted through family. They are not my biological parents, my mom or dad. I called them that because that's all I knew. Because my biological mom and dad were not willing to take care of me, my grandparents did. Later in my life, when I was 16, my biological dad tried to get in contact with me again. And my aunt warned me, Before anything happened, he was a narcissist and didn't really care about me; unfortunately, that was true. I remember it was my first prom, and it was the first weekend I wouldn't be able to go see him. And he decided to take it upon himself to tell my siblings that I don't love them anymore... Because I told him no... It kills me inside because I loved my siblings so much!! To be continued-