44 People Who Grew Up With A Psychopath Share Their Terrifying Experiences

My nephew (through marriage) is a crazy little s**t. Once, the entire family was playing hide and seek. He was around 9. He didn't like where I hid so he flew into a rage. He tried to hit me, I grabbed his wrist and twisted just enough to subdue him. He screamed like a freaking manic. I released him. He then ran into another room stating he needed his nerf gun to shoot me because he shoots people whenever he's mad.

I looked at my SIL and said "Seriously, you're OK with this?" Her response was that his rage was my fault, I had no right to touch him and that I should have just let him hit me since he's "only a boy." I told her, quite firmly, that if her crazy little b*****d ever even gave the appearance of causing harm to one of my children that I would put him down like a rabid dog. Fortunately (I guess?) her husband, my wife's parents and everyone else present told her that she was wrong, her kid was f*****g nuts and that this was a serious red flag.

Flash forward two years. Kid is still crazy but that's everyone else's problem because he's still "just a boy." I'm staying at their house. Things have mostly settled from that prior incident. I wake up very early every morning. So around 4:30, I find myself awake. I don't want to get up and wake up everyone else so I just sort of lie there and meditate. At around 5:20, the door opens. Thinking it's my kids, who were young at the time and still came to get us early, I kind of just glance up. Then I notice that it's the nephew and he's holding what *appears* to be an AR-15.

Now, I suffer from PTSD from Iraq. So my fight or flight response is triggered, my heart is pounding and I'm basically in survival mode. I wait. I watch. He creeps past the foot of the bed, walks up to my side and raises this rifle up to point the muzzle at my face.

So I figure, this is it. I'm going to die. Today it ends. The only goal I have for myself right now is to prevent him from harming my wife and kids. He raises it up and the muzzle is a few inches from my face. I reached up, I grabbed the muzzle and I pushed as hard as I could, sending the butt into the little psycho's face. His nose is bleeding, he's crying, he's screaming about how he's going to k**l me, how I'm f*****g dead etc.

So now everyone is awake. Lights are flipped on and I see that it's a *toy* rifle made to look like an AR-15. Apparently, this little psycho s**t was planning to stick the muzzle in my face and pull the trigger to scare the s**t out of me with flashing lights and electronic gun sounds.

I feel somewhat torn. On the one hand, I just broke an 11 year old's nose for playing with a toy gun. On the other hand, the kid had all of these tells that he was dangerous and what he was doing was super creepy and yet another red flag.

My SIL was f*****g pissed. Her chosen narrative is that I'm a mentally unstable l*****c who is a danger to all children. She calls the cops. She insists, despite the protestations of my wife, that she's having me arrested and charged with child ab**e for hitting a boy for playing with his toys.

Police arrive. Interviews take basically the whole day. I'm a little worried that, getting arrested aside, I might not be able to leave this sh*thole and go home the next day as planned because these cops might not be done with their investigation.

Fortunately, it didn't play out that way. See, this little *We Need to Talk About Kevin* a*****e wasn't just a crazy s**t around me like in the movies. He was a crazy little s**t everywhere and had been for years. The police had a file on him because the school was required to call the police every time he threatened a school shooting (which was often).

I laid out my version of events much like I did here. I didn't see him and have a flashback thinking he was an insurgent. I saw him, I knew what he has going through his head, and I wanted to try to prevent him from k***ing my family.

They did let me go home on schedule. And a week later the detective called me to let me know there would be no charges. He also told me that his interview with my nephew was "chilling" and he hopes that my SIL pulls her head out of the sand and gets the kid some help. I told him she won't ever. And when he's 30 years old and on trial she'll be crying and saying he's just a boy.

Hopefully he doesn't hurt anyone but I know the odds are stacked against that hope.

Before anyone asks, I refuse to stay at their house. If we are in town, we stay in a hotel. He is never allowed to be alone with either of my kids. And he is also not allowed in my house since he was caught trying to steal a pocket knife which he said he needed for "surgery" on the family cat (he was almost 12 at the time).

EDIT: Since I'm getting PMs asking, no, he hasn't been arrested for forced into mental health counseling despite repeatedly threatening violence at school. My SIL is a lawyer by training (she hasn't practiced in many years though she is still a member of the bar). When she can't threaten her way out of a situation, she has plenty of friends who *are* still practicing who are willing to write sufficiently forceful letters. She also scored an injunction against the school when it suspended her shitberg son thus preventing them from actually suspending him. People like her are the reason why no one takes action on some of these incredibly troubled kids.

Not me, but my cousin (eleven at the time) was caught smoking and skipping school by my mother. My mum told him she didn’t care about him skipping school (because his mother wouldn’t have cared) but told him
not to smoke by her car.

He didn’t like being told what to do, so he grabbed my brother (two at the time) by the hand and walked him out into the middle of the road, by a blind corner. He sat my brother down and told him not to move, then he walked away.

Luckily, a neighbour had seen what had happened and grabbed my brother before a car could hit him. That cousin is now in an Indonesian prison possibly facing the death sentence for smuggling d***s, by the way. Dreams really do come true, I guess.

Edit; context. I’m tired and left out my cousin’s childhood aspiration to be a d**g lord, then forget I didn’t write it in. That’s what “dreams really do come true, I guess” is referring to.

I didn't think my sister would m****r me, per se, because she enjoyed abusing me too much to straight up k**l me (lol).

One of the biggest things that sticks out from my childhood growing up with her a**se was occasionally if I was sitting on the couch (back of couch facing kitchen) she'd come up behind me and run a butcher knife along my shoulders and neck until I turned around and realized she had a knife. I think she just enjoyed the fear in me realizing what was going on, that look of "oh my god that was a knife? Why the f**k do you have a knife?"

My sister did s**t like this my whole childhood, and even after she was 19 and I was 17 she'd do crazy s**t like throw a knife across the living room at me if she was mad enough at me. I cut contact with her as soon as I was able to leave at 18.

My mom was 19 when I was born and we had a very close relationship when I was little. She was always more of a friend than a mom, and that’s just how our relationship was. Before my stepdad, I was always sarcastic all the time, and we joked around a lot.

One morning my mom asked me to take the pizza boxes from last nights dinner out to the garage where we put the cardboard recycling. I jokingly told her no as I gathered up the boxes to take them out. I took them out, put them on top of the stack of other cardboard, and turned around to go back into the house and I bumped into my stepdad who had come in behind me without me noticing. He then proceeded to lift my 13 year old body completely off of the ground by my throat and pinned me against the wall of the house. He got in my face and was screaming at me about disrespect. I remember flecks of spit getting on my face. My feet were back on the ground but I was still pinned and his hands were around my throat. I was able to get one of his hands in my mouth and I was biting and scratching him. I don’t remember what happened next. I don’t remember how I got to school. The next thing I remember is sobbing in a private ensemble room in the band hall. My mom still doesn’t believe me.

Over the next two years he continuously got worse and permanently destroyed my relationship with my mother. I started sleeping with a knife under my pillow when he was home. I started running away and doing d***s. Eventually my behavior became bad enough that my mom sent me to live with my biological father. Life is better now. I am safe. I still have the occasional nightmare and cannot stand any sort of confrontation whatsoever but I’ll be okay.

My mom, brother, and I came home to find all of my mother's diplomas and certificates had been gathered into a pile on the floor of our shared bedroom and burned. My mom is blind and had not been given much schooling as a child, so she worked her a*s off once we were in school to get an education. Unfortunately, at this time we were forced to live with my grandmother and two mentally ill uncles. One of the uncles had a grow room, and the other didn't approve of pot, so he destroyed the room and blamed my mother. D****r uncle became enraged and decided to burn my mom's certificates because "You destroyed something I love, so I destroyed something you love. Your kids are next." This was a week after he shot my brother's cat because he was angry she had kittens in his boat.

I've blocked out the next couple of weeks because apparently they were pretty bad, but I'm told that we had to disappear that night with only what we could carry in garbage bags.

I had several with my brother, but the worst was when I woke up to him sitting on my chest with his hands around my throat. He was trying to choke me, but his hands were too small and he didn't get the pressure right so I ended up with a giant hickey around the entire front of my neck instead of death. All because I ate the last nutty bar.

Started chatting with a girl online and after a bit she sheepishly admitted that she had a criminal record.

We went on chatting for a bit, she was cute and VERY interested in me, but of course the conversation eventually led us back to the criminal question. Turns out she was on parole. Now I NEEDED the story of how she got into trouble.

She finally took a pic of her parole document and sent it to me. I was reading it and came to the line where it listed the offense she had committed.

**HOMICIDE**

Can you say GHOSTED?

Needless to say, we never met IRL.

My then 15 year old cousin tried feeding my sister (then 5) and I (then 9) rat p****n.

Not a family member but my mother dated a crazy person after her divorce. We moved into an apartment and he moved in with us not long after.

He had long hair and blue eyes and a beard and was the spitting image of “White Jesus.”

And he took it to heart after a few people told him about the resemblance.

He pulled me aside one day and told me that he had a secret and he wanted to tell me but I couldn’t tell anyone else because the government was looking for him. He confided in me that he was in fact Jesus Christ and the he escaped from a government facility after being captured in 1964. He said he escaped with the help of the Pope during his visit to the USA. The Popes private security force broke him out and once he was free the Pope advised him to blend in with regular people. He said the Pope told him to not draw any attention to himself...so no miracles...and tell no one. But he trusted me with this information.

Jesus Christ was a roofer in case you were curious.

He constantly carried around his roofing hammer aaaand one day it went missing.

Jesus lost his s**t.

He locked my mother, my girlfriend, and myself in our apartment until it was found. This lasted 3 days. I was 18 at the time and was much larger then him and would have had no problem physically removing Jesus from our apartment but my Mother insisted he was having a mental episode and if I hurt him or did anything it may mess him up even worse.

Turns out he left the Hammer (which is really pretty much a hatchet) at a job site and a co-worker drive over to return it.

I sat there like an idiot and watched this guy hand a f*****g axe to this l*****c and did nothing. Big mistake.

Our three day long lockdown turned into 5 days. The final 2 days was this illiterate nutcase attempting to read aloud from the Bible getting maybe 1 in 5 words right. Remember in school when the teacher would have people read aloud and go around the room and there was always a dude you knew couldn’t read for s**t and his part would last ten times longer then everyone else’s part? Imagine that for 48 hours.

Jesus would only let us eat bread and water. And the bread ran out quickly.

There was a lake outside our apartment and on the 5th day Jesus was looking through the blinds at the lake and called me over to him. He confided in me again.

He said “you know I could walk right across that lake and right up Into heaven.”

I replied...”If you do that I’ll follow you anywhere...go for it man I would love to see you do that.”

My plan was to get his f*****g a*s out of the apartment and lock the door so my mom and girlfriend would be safe...and prey to this guys dad that I can run faster then him and make it to a pay phone to call 911.

He looked at me with his crazy a*s eyes and said “YOU TRYING TO GET ME CAUGHT M**********R! I SAID NO MIRACLES!”

He raised up his roofing hammer and told me the only way I was following him anywhere was in the afterlife. It was at that point I thought...I’m going to die and then he is going to k**l my mother and girlfriend.

I came to the sudden realization that I no longer cared it Jesus’s mental breakdown would be effected by me beating the s**t out of him or not. That was no longer my problem. Mid rant about some religious s**t about two inches from my face...I swung as hard as I could and punched him right in the sternum. He still had the hatchet cocked over his shoulder (like someone throwing a football) so the blow caused him to lose his balance and fall over a dining room chair.

He crumpled in a heap and my mother...ever the cool head...screamed at me for hitting him. I had knocked the wind out of him and he was gasping for air. My mother assumed he was dying. I would learn later in adulthood my mother was not the brightest lightbulb.

My girlfriend booked out the door with me close behind after grabbing my mother’s arm and dragging her out of the door.

I called the police and they came and got him.

Last I heard he was in a hospital after he locked himself in a bedroom still saying he was Jesus. He was committed after he used a metal throwing dart to pick veins out of his arm.

Never did get to see him walk across that lake though.

Listening to my dad trying to persuade my mum they should k**l me. I was about 8 maybe. I was a difficult child and my dad often couldn't cope. I remember sitting on the stairs while they were in the lounge listening to their argument. Eventually he persuaded my mum and I heard them moving so I ran upstairs to hide. My dad came up and dragged me into the lounge. He was holding me down in the floor shouting to my mum "do you want me to do it, I'll do it if you wanted me to". She was crying and couldn't decide. Eventually she said no and he let me go and I ran back upstairs.

I think they planned to k**l me a few times but that was the scariest one. Another time my dad asked me to give him a hand getting something out of the shed. When my back was turned he hit me in the back of the head with a hammer. I turned around and he was staring at me. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out. I ran past him to go to my mum who was making dinner in the kitchen. I was crying and shouting about what just happened but she didn't look at me or say anything, she wasn't shocked. It was like she knew what he was going to do.

Edit: Thank you so much for your kind messages. To answer some of your questions and give more info:

We were like a normal family in many ways. I went to school, went on holidays, I went out with friends, just bad things would happen at home that nobody else knew about. I think the worst things happened before I hit puberty. As a teenager it got better but we rarely got on, I would barely speak to him and he used to get really angry that I was ignoring him but there wasn't anymore physical violence. I remember when I was 15 maybe, we were arguing in the living room and he came charging towards me. It was the first time I stood up to him, I charged back at him with my fists raised, I was so angry and I thought I could take him. He backed off straight away. He looked like he was hugging himself as he ran off. From what I remember he didn't try to hit me again after that.

I don't know if this is true but I was doubled up with stomach pain one night. My dad told me my mum tried to p****n me, he brought it up in a few arguments. My mum was a sweet woman, I can't imagine her wanting to k**l me off her own accord. I think my dad persuaded her to p****n me.

I left home at 18 when I went to uni. I don't understand why I didn't leave sooner, I know I was scared of how I would cope in the big wide world and that's what stopped me leaving. I felt broken like I wouldn't be able to support myself. I moved into a house with my best friend and 6 others. I remember thinking it was so weird how nobody shouts at each other.


No I'm not in contact with my parents, my dad died a few years ago from brain cancer. I barely spoke to him before he died. I don't speak to my mum, she denies anything ever happened, that he never hit me and we just had some bad arguments sometimes. I don't feel like I could have anything to do with her until she acknowledges how things were when I was young. I think she is scared of the truth coming out.

I was 26 when I first told someone about some of the a**se. I had been practising meditation every day for a few months and I think it helped to unlock things I find difficult to think of. I had some flashbacks to a time me and my dad were in my bedroom and my dad pinned me down on the bed face down and I felt so weird, I was being shaken and he was pushing my head down. My interpretation is he r***d me. At the time I didn't know what was happening, A couple of weeks after remembering this I rang my friend up and told him. He was very supportive. My dad would sometimes get into bed and touch play with my p***s. Sometimes we had to do a 'naked health check' where I had to take my clothes off in front of him and he would examine me. Sometimes he would sit down next to me and just grab my p***s, sometimes pull it so it hurt. I didn't see it as sexual at the time.

I remember telling my primary school teacher that my dad was trying to k**l me, she kinda laughed it off, told me he wasn't doing that. In year 6, so around 12 years old I didn't want to go home and came close to telling my teacher I don't want to live at home anymore. But I thought if he doesn't take things seriously straight away, I will probably have to go home and if my dad found out I had told someone he might k**l me so I didn't tell him.

We had quite a docile labrador crossed with something unknown. I came home one day, opened the living room door and my dad pushed the dog towards me and he was shouting "go on get him" the dog bit me on the arm but not very hard. I remember at least one occasion he made me hit the dog and sometime later when it was just me and Sandy the dog, she growled and looked scared of me so I couldn't go near her. He made the dog unsure of me and that really bloody hurt because I loved that dog.

I'm going to take a walk now but I'll come back and answer the rest of your questions.

With regards to my dad hitting me with a hammer, it was one strike with a typical hand-held hammer. I don't know how much effort he put into it as I was facing away from him. He asked me to look for something at the back of the shed when he hit me. He struck me on the top of my head. He had ample opportunity to hit me again but he didn't, he was just stood there shaking and then I ran off to find my mum. I think he wanted to k**l me then but couldn't go through with it. I had a lot of nosebleeds and some seizures that weren't investigated but I don't know if these were before or after being hit. There was another time when we were in my bedroom and he was speaking softly about something. All of a sudden he just flipped and started punching me in the side of the head as hard as he could then he darted out of the room. I physically couldn't move my body for an hour or so.


To most people my dad was a polite, gentle man that loved his family. He didn't drink or do d***s, had a full-time job which he held for 20+ years before passing away. He was very nervous around people. He had no friends but occasionally spoke to his brother on the phone. He resented his dad. His dad left him when he was young, and then went on to have more kids and he was jealous of them.


I started looking for mental health help about 2 years ago. I was depressed and stressed every day. I got a referral from my Dr to the mental health department, we did several tests for mental health issues such as ADHD, Aspergers and autism. I showed signs of ADHD more than anything. All results came back just under the level for any diagnosis. We mutually agreed to end support as I was doing OK. A year later I asked for another referral from my Dr as I wasn't coping with remembering sexual memories with my dad. I had already spoken to my mum and her brothers and sisters about what they could remember, my mum had contacted my Dr to say I was being delusional, remembering things that never happened. I was referred back to the same mental health Dr, who had already heard my mum's version of the story. I was prescribed anti-psychotic medication as they thought I was experiencing delusional memories. I went to about 5 appointments then stopped going as I felt like they were dismissing anything I was saying about my childhood because they believed my mum, and so giving me the wrong medication. The main reason I stopped going was that I thought they didn't believe me.

My younger brother (who I’m still living with) has about 2 months ago started to get very aggressive towards his classmates and has also been kicking our dogs and things like that my parents have tried to punish him but the only way they feel as if they can get through to him is through spanking him and what not (he has told me all this does is make him more angry) and about 2 days ago he told me “you’re pretty unlucky you don’t have a lock on your door” some nights I also wake up to weird noises in the hallway connecting my room to his, so yeah that’s worrying...


UPDATE: they went to a therapist and they believe that he may have depression and some form of social anxiety I do know that’s a pretty quick diagnosis but I trust the therapist and her opinion, he should be getting some more therapy for it and medication if he can get it, thank you all for the advice and help in the situation!

I grew up with an a*****e father. Both emotionally and physically, although he "dialed down" the physical a**se when I was around 11-12, due to the fact that my golden-child older brother had learned the ways of abusing me, physically as well.

Anyway, when my parents got divorced my brother went to do a year at a boarding school, so guess who was left alone with an emotionally a*****e father who'd just lost his wife. His a**se increased exponentially, and it was of course even worse after I had spent the weekend at my mom's.

People who've experienced a**sers know that it is all about being in control. When my parents got divorced, my father insisted that me and my brother kept living with him. My brother went of to boarding school and my father lost his job, plus the house we lived in was too expensive, so we had to move out. That's a lot of control to lose for an a****r, especially on top of a divorce, so you can probably imagine the abuse was at top level.

One weekend I was at my mom's, I fell very ill with the flu, so I ended up staying for a week. Then monday the deal was I went to school from my mom's and after school I would come home to my father's. I was so sad at going back to that place, but back then I had no idea what a**se was, or that my father and brother were a*****e (I was 13 at the time). My father wasn't home, so that was nice. He didn't come back before I had badminton practice, so I made myself some dinner and went to practice.

I was home around 9pm, and my father was absolutely f*****g furious! He yelled and screamed at me, demanding to know where I had been, and before I could answer he went on and on about how he had called everyone and no one knew where I was, and the deal was I was to come straight home from school. Completely shocked and baffled, I told him I had badminton practice, as I have had every monday for almost 3 years straight, and it always ended at 9pm there was nothing different about tonight. then He got even more mad at me because I never told him when I was going anywhere, and he screamed at me that if it was always on monday, then I should write it on the fridge calender, and all his misery was my fault because I couldn't even think enough to myself that I had to write it down, and he screamed at me for so long I can barely remember what else he berated me for.

It left me completely hollow. I went to my room and just sat in silence, trying to understand why he was so mad at me, and I felt so ashamed of myself (a bitter side-effect of an a*****e upbringing). Then, after a few minutes he came charging up the stairs, barged into my room and said "get in the car, we're going for a drive".

In my 30 years of life, I have never ever, even come close to, being as scared of dying as I was when I sat in that car, waiting for my father to get in. He just started the car and started driving. I cannot describe it. I was so sure he was going to k**l me.

Turned out we were just going to see a house he thought of switching to. He even got mad at me for not asking where we were going.

I don't talk to neither my father, brother or mother anymore.

My aunt has two kids, both adopted, and all I know about their bio-moms is that they were d**g addicts. One of them (we'll call her Jane) is my age, and we were always really close, but her older brother, "John," never really hung around us to the point that I barely knew him even though I spent a ton of time at their house.

Anyway, when we were maybe 12, Jane, my sister, and I built a massive blanket fort in the basement and were hanging out in it. John was maybe 15 at the time and I don't know why he originally came in, but for some reason he decided to "mess with us" - by taking a large kitchen knife and randomly stabbing into the fort. We were trying to crawl away but he could hear us and followed to whatever section we were in. I'm not sure if blindly stabbing at your relatives can ever really be playful, but this was not it. Jane was screaming at him to stop and my sister and I were crying. It was terrifying. Finally, my aunt heard us screaming and came down and yelled at him. John claimed it was just a joke, and said we were having fun.

He's now in the middle of a 25 year prison sentence for m****r.

I have a male cousin who I strongly suspect is some kind of sociopath. When I was a child, I'm female by the way, I lived next door. He was in h**h school and I was in grade school. His family had a pool and we would often go over and hang out, which I dreaded b/c this cousin would, when no one was looking, sneak up on me and either throw me into the water or get in with me if I were already in and hold me under until I was so out of breath I would actually breath in water and go limp and he would pull me up with me coughing and choking or I would claw desperately gasping for breath, he was laughing all the way. It was horrendous and it was creepy how jovial his expression was. He did this all the time and his parents or one of mine, usually my grandmother, would either mildly admonish him if caught or he would do it when no one was around. For some reason I was afraid to tell the extent of his a**ses. There were smaller things, little acts of harassment like scaring me, taking my stuff, pulling my hair, taunting me, but the near drownings were the worst! This all went down b/w the ages of me being 5-9 and he was 14-18.

He also picked me up and literally held me, feet first, over the railing of the Royal Gorge Bridge on a family vacation. I think I went into shock and I just recall becoming very still. For that he did get in trouble at least. He apologized b/c he was forced but his eyes were always kind of dead but with a sparkle if he were doing something egregious. Like a happy kind of twinkle.

Oh yea, once he had his brother hold me down while he poured tequila down my throat, he did get caught for that b/c I had to go to the ER.

As a kid he was always running away and once k***ed a stray cat by choking it with barbed wire, he had on some kind of leather gloves. Weird thing is is that all the neighborhood boys thought it was cool rather than call out his crazy. When he turned 16 and drove he would purposefully run over stray animals and laugh and brag about it. NO ONE DID ONE THING! Enablers for sure. Talk about normalizing/minimizing bizarre behavior.

He was extremely good looking-like model material (but not to me b/c I saw what he was under the skin), the h**h school quarter back, adored by all, girls fought over him, he played football on a scholarship at a Division 1 SEC school but suffered a knee injury that ended his career.

In h**h school and college he was always getting in trouble, frequent fights and DUI's, but he got bailed out every time and again, probably due to his athletic ability, it was swept under the rug. He also bragged he had his girlfriends do his school work.

He has been married three times and has stuck with his third wife who is a martyr type. Scary thing is he is now a h**h school football coach and has been for decades and was just promoted to assistant principle. Scary, because I think he has no business working with minors.

I wish aggression toward animals was taken MUCH more seriously. Not only is it cruel in itself, but to be able to harm/k**l a defenseless/weaker animal for no purpose but joy/entertainment is a HUGE sign of not having empathy (which often leads to serial k***ers).

My dad has NPD, and is generally an emotionless a*****e. When I was in middle school I stepped on a stick in our yard and a piece broke off in my foot. My dad is a software engineer and used to go on site to build databases and help switch patient data to digital through the 80s, 90s, 00s. It gave him a real complex about not being a doctor and he stole tools and little pieces of equipment and would wear scrubs all of the time. It also meant he refused to take me to the ER for a super simple thing. He heated up a pair of medical scissors and cut the heel of my foot open while pretending to play doctor. At several times my mom opened the door to tell me to stop screaming so she could hear her phone conversation.

A little late to the party, but my younger step-brother suffered from a host of mental issues, most visibly conduct disorder for those in the know, related to neglect from his time with his birth mother. Despite my parents every (and I mean EVERY) attempt to get him psychological help, nothing seemed to work. Tough to know where to begin with describing childhood with him. He would initiate constant arguments over the smallest of things, occasionally reaching the point of violence. Most of this violence was ultimately harmless (hitting walls, etc), but it got more dangerous towards others as he got older.

On a personal basis, our relationship was fine; I was his favorite brother and, due to his smaller size, never felt truly unsafe. That is, until he discovered weapons. One time my parents found him hiding a large knife from the kitchen block under his bed. When he was confronted, he flew into a rage, a 5' tornado of screams and fists. Despite his small stature, he was a powerful kid once he got into a rage, and it took myself and our other brothers to subdue him. It's tough to remember if any death threats were specifically thrown during this breakdown. Regardless, the threat was implied by previous death threats to members of the family. What made it real was that it was the first time I'd seen him truly begin such a lethal plan. Our bedrooms were right next to each other and my locks didn't work, so I quickly learned how to sleep with one eye open. Things got better and worse throughout high school, but I never became comfortable sleep in the same house as him. We had a tough relationship for a long time while I was away, with my selfishly ignoring him and the problems I left at home when I left for college.

But the story does have a happy ending. My brother lived with some other family members for a period of time, and eventually went out on his own at an extremely young age. He had a couple of tough years, refusing to contact home and ask for help. Somehow, he overcame his cognitive shortcomings on his own and found a service job in a major city that provides him a steady income, as well as a serious girlfriend. He has reached back out to our family, and we now have a pretty good relationship that's moved beyond our past.

I have a cousin who used to k**l neighborhood cats as a little kid. One day he just up and left. No one has seen him in about 13 years.

Dad was a violent, alcoholic sociopath.
One time he threw me down the staircase, obviously didn’t k**l me but k***ed the child he didn’t know I was carrying.

Sorry for the formatting as I am on mobile. I have a distant cousin who I often see in major holidays and family reunions. He was always the hyper and eccentric type. Either he was super weird funny to be with or he can creep you out enough to excuse yourself from hanging with him. What my parents then didnt tell me was that he was heavily addicted to m**h which contributed to his crazy behaviors.
He often obsessed on local town girls, claiming that she is his GF or he is in the process of pursuing her and may have stalked a few girls.
Around that stage of his life, we the younger female relatives are not to be left alone with him.

Sadly all hopes of rehab failed on him, and he legit became mental by the time I was in college. And he was confined at his elderly moms home which is also conncted to my nieces house ( duplex).
I wasnt there when it happened but my niece had to barricade herself one time as he came for an attack. She wont tell me if it was an attempted sexual assualt but for sure he was intent to harm as he had a weapon. Good thing her dad, my other cousin, came in time. It was a huge mess and took several people holding down my nieces dad from trying not to k**l him.

Sadly that crazy cousin didnt last long. After a year, the toll of heavy d**g use affected his heart. He died in his sleep. His mom, brokenhearted followed suit a year later.