I wish we had gotten the apology from our father who abused us horribly as children. I wish he would have protected us like he did other kids. My brother killed himself February 10, 2014. My father beat us horribly as children, told us what stupid, worthless, no good for nothing little bastards we were. Whatever name calling he chose, we were it. We watched him beat our step mother for 18-24 hours at at time. He would close all of the blinds, and he would rage through the house demolishing anything in his path, while beating our step mother so badly, her eyes would swell completely shut. My brother stood between my legs trembling as a 14-year-old little boy begging me to get us out of there while our father would hold loaded guns to her head. He would tell us, “Watch, while I blow her fucking brains out.” He would then pull the trigger. My brother had severe Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have it too, just not as severe. I wish our father had loved us. I wish we would have been worth it to love and protect, to pick us up and dust our knees off to reassure us we could get through anything. He ordered my brother out of the house at gunpoint as a junior in high school. He was 17 years old. What did anyone expect my brother to end up to be? Any of us for that matter. Our father will never apologize, though. He can’t apologize to my brother. It haunts me. I want to forgive him, but where would I put all the anger and hurt. I can’t just make it go away.