![]() ![]() I feel another hard hit to my face, and I can taste blood. Jimbo was reaching for my brother's crib, so I swing the toy with all of the might a three and a half year old has. I feel a hard slap against my face, and then it felt numb. The man yells for me to get out of the way. ![]() It had wheels, and when you “walked” it, it would make a little barking noise. I grab some sort of toy I think it was one of those plastic dogs on a leash. Jimbo comes barging into the room, staggering drunk. I'm scared and confused, yet my first instinct is to run to Wesley's crib and stand guard. Wesley was in his crib, crying, and in another room, someone was yelling. One in particular involved my brother and my mom's boyfriend at the time, a guy I only remember being named, Jimbo. I can remember certain moments of being abused.
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