P3 of why I don't like living with my aunt...

To continue the story from last time, I remember vividly that one time we went to the coast and we stayed in a hotel room for a night. I am still talking about the story about my dad. By the way, to catch you up I remember vividly because the two beds were right next to each other, and I was watching TV. I turned to look at my dad because he was saying weird things in his sleep, and the blanket was off of him because it was too hot in the room. I watched him reach down into his pants and grab out his man part and pull it out in front of me, saying very awful things about me in his sleep. I was so disturbed; I had to flip over and cover my ears. I was so scared, and I didn't know what to do. I went outside of the room and stood out there. I felt the cold night breeze on me. I was so furiously disturbed and scared. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call my aunt, but this was at the time where my family wasn't believing me, what I was telling them about the stuff he was trying to do and doing to me... At that point, I really wanted to go home To this day, I'm still disgusted and disturbed by the things that my own father did... Because that is not the dad I grew up with. The dad I grew up with would never have acted that way. Because of the loss of my mother and him drinking too much, I'm sure that's what caused it. Not an excuse; just a thought. He would drink nearly every day. He would even drink with me in the car It was really scary because sometimes he would get super violent... There was a point where my family finally took me away from him, and I never got to see him. He had somebody taking care of him, and he was slowly decaying from alcoholism. He would send me flowers every once in a while. They were very pretty. I even kept some of the baskets and the candy jar that came with one of them. I still have it to this day; it's one of the few things I have of him.. I sometimes miss him, but I miss the old him, not the alcoholism him, because the alcoholism.