Hi, everybody! My name is Mercy and I am sixteen. Have you ever heard of the expression that
says children are punished for the sins of their parents”? Well, I am that very kid. I suppose the main cause of my problems is
that I could never see my biological mother as my mother. Even though I knew her for my whole life and
I found out that she was really my mother a long time ago – when I was eight. It was then that my father, Ben, told me that
my older sister Annice was, in fact, my mother. Oh my God, how happy was I! Annice lived in another city, and I did not
see her often, but I waited for her every time as if it were Christmas! This also meant that Annice’s children were
my real brothers and sisters! And I knew that Annice was expecting another
baby who was going to be born soon. Of course, I asked my father if we could go
and see Annice as soon as possible! When I looked out the train window and thought
about my first encounter with Annice as my mother, it had suddenly occurred to my mind
that my father was, indeed, my grandfather. It might seem strange, but this was much harder
for me to accept, even though everything had become clear now. Ben was well beyond his fifties, and he was
older than all my friends’ fathers. I was confused, trying to adapt to this new
world inside my head. But this happy feeling, that I will soon hug
my mother, still mattered most. ...I suppose that there was one single moment
in my life when I felt that Annice was my mother. When we arrived, and I, embarrassingly tongue
twisted the simplest words in the world, and fumblingly said: “Mommy, please comb me.” While Annice was brushing my hair and we talked
about the baby sleeping under her heart, I was totally and absolutely happy. And I was happy for a while after Ben and
I got back home. I did not have any close friends, but I told
everybody who would listen that I would soon be living with my mother. It's good that my life did not interest people
too much, and nobody asked me about it later on. Because after a couple of months I realized
that Annice was not going to change her life. Ben, who I had started to call my father again,
tried to comfort me and said that Annice was having a hard time right now, waiting for
the baby, and her other children needed her attention too, and that now was just not the
best time for change. But the right time never came. And I started to call Annice my sister again. Ben did not correct me, — it was easier
for both of us. Four years had passed. And suddenly Ben and I learned that Annice
had left her husband… and their three children. I was already twelve, and Ben did not hide
his shock from me. But I… I felt hope. If Annice had left them, did it mean that
she would come back to us? To ME? I did not tell Ben about my thoughts, I kept
them deep inside my heart. But since I saw that he did not approve of
Annice's actions, I argued with him, sincerely defending her and looking for any reasons
that could justify her decisions. At approximately the same time I asked him
how it happened that he adopted me. And he told me. Annice was sixteen when she gave birth to
me. She had to miss a year of high school because
of that, and then she moved to another town to finish school, leaving her newborn, me,
with her father, Ben. And when Annice came back she did not want
to stay with Ben. She had found a job and could now afford to
rent a room, so she moved out... and took me with her! But the baby, who did not yet turn two, only
caused problems. When she left for work, she left me with her
roommate, who worked from home. But once, he went out to get some food, you
know, just for a second. And suddenly he ran into a friend. It might have been okay, but he had left a
window open. It was winter, and I got a pneumonia after
a several hours of crying in an ice-cold room, dressed in just a sliders. Ben took me into his home after the hospital. He thought it would be a temporary solution. But after six months Annice got married and
left town. In the next six months she had another baby. Then another one… I was already four by that time and I remember
drawing a greeting card for my dear sister Annice… Ben’s story only made me more positive that
Annice… my mother, was going to come back to us. But within a year Ben and I learned that Annice
had had another baby and was happily living with him and her new boyfriend. I think that this news was the final blow
to all my naive dreams. And as they vanished, I sank into the darkness
of depression. But half a year ago Ben decided that we should
go and visit Annice, even though it seemed like she did not want that and kept repeating
that everything was fine. But Ben was full of determination to see his
fifth grandchild, so we paid her a surprise visit. When we entered her home we understood everything
without words. The tiny apartment was unkempt and dirty,
and in addition, it smelled awful. Annice tried to look cheerful, but she looked
bad… and it seemed to me that I sensed the faint smell of alcohol coming from her. We did not see her boyfriend who was “about
to get home any minute,” as she repeated again and again, but we saw Harvey – my
three-year-old brother. He was a thin and pale kid who cried terribly
when Annice tried to pull him from the corner, where he was sitting, to say hello to us. And I notices bruises all over his slender
arms. We left that same evening, and I fought with
Ben on our way home. He blamed Annice, and I tried to defend her
and made up any possible excuses for what we had seen. But when I came to my room, I started crying
and I could not stop. I have never felt worse. I never even heard when Ben entered my room,
and it was only when he hugged me, that I realized he was there... and he was also crying. And then he said that it seemed like we needed
a good psychotherapist. It seems to me that before I saw the bruises
on Harvey’s arms, I might've been able to misinterpret this lovely woman’s words. She said that I should not only stop TRYING
to treat Annice as my sister, but also that I should stop trying to protect her. It was not her who needed protection, but
Harvey. Just like I needed protection before, but
for me there was always my grandfather. And also just like the three other kids that
she left probably do. She said that adoption always suffers from
secrets and confusion, but a GROWN UP person needs the courage to reveal these secrets. My story is coming to an end. Soon I will go and see Annice again. And I will call her my mother, looking straight
into her eyes, for the first time in eight years and for the second time in my whole
life. And I will talk to her about Harvey. Because Ben and I decided that we are ready
to take the kid stay with us, until Annice… grows up. Now I am exactly the same age that Annice
was when she gave birth to me. But I will not repeat her mistakes, that,
one way or another, her children have had to pay for. It was Mercy. Thank you for listening to me and I wish your
families well. Please watch the videos on this channel.
