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Though I've lived in the same city for my whole life, I've moved 3 times. Times are tough. Anyway, the second move by far put me in the worst situation. My grandmother and I moved in with my aunt and one of my cousins. Things were fine at first. We got along, had fun, and were civil to each other. I can't remember the moment everything went wrong; frankly, just mentioning this is making me uncomfortable. But I can definitely recall the 3 worst experiences of living with them. My cousin was the one who did the damage. He has a short temper, violent tendancies, and access to various weapons. Not a good combination. First, there was the day our internet went out. By necessity, the modem for the internet was kept in my cousin's bedroom. See, he had a desktop computer, so he needed to connect it directly to the modem to get internet access; he couldn't use wi-fi, like the rest of us. He didn't want anybody in his bedroom without permission, no matter the reason. So, try to imagine this. You're somewhere you know you aren't supposed to be, but you don't need to be there for long. Just long enough to press a button, then leave. Then, you hear the front door open. You pray it's anybody but who you think it is. Your aunt. Your grandmother. A burglar with a gun; ANYBODY but your violent cousin. Then, you hear something else. "You're fucked!" In an instant, he's upon you, connecting with blow after blow. The beating only lasts a few seconds, and is followed by a screaming match, in which you desperately try to defend your actions, to no avail. Nobody else is home; nobody can help you. It's you and this monster. I'm thankful he didn't shoot me, or break my phone. But my stomach hurt for days afterwards, and one of his punches busted my lip open. I later found out that he knew I'd do that, and set me up. I wasn't the target of the next one, but it was still scary. I honestly forget what set this off, but this was a fight between him and my grandmother. While I didn't see the fight, I heard it, and locked my bedroom door to keep him away. He broke my grandmother's phone, threw hot noodles at her, and spit in her face. Not to mention the raging and swearing. With my phone by my side, I dialed 911. In case you were wondering why I didn't do that during the last incident, rest assured it wouldn't have helped. Police did show up, but, despite my insistence that he was in possession of drugs and a firearm, nothing was done. Likely the most scared I've ever been was when I broke my cousin's prized mortar and pestle. He kept them on a shelf in the bathroom. I had just gotten out of the shower, and grabbed my underwear, which I had put on that shelf, as well. Suddenly, I heard something shatter. No. God dammit, NO!! The stick part - I forget what it's called - hit the tile floor and broke into 2 pieces. I thought, without exaggeration, that would be my last day alive. I wanted to run. To run and not look back until I was sure this demon couldn't find me. My grandmother, much to my horror, ordered that I tell my cousin the truth. So I did. Honestly, I'm still surprised I'm alive to type this. He screamed at me, and threatened to kick my throat in. But he never actually struck. He insisted that what I broke was irreplaceable, despite my telling him that I had found plenty more online that I was willing to buy as a replacement. We made up last Christmas, but I still have flashbacks. My grandmother and I moved to an apartment complex, where we live now. I actually don't live too far away from that house. I don't dare go back. I accidentally had something shipped there, because I forgot to change my shipping address online. Whoever lives there now can keep it.