I stopped visiting my dad and his family because I was scared of his wife.

She would randomly say nasty things for, in hindsight, no reason (I mean, what reason could an adult woman possibly have that would justify insulting a child?). And she'd always do it when you were vulnerable. You know when you get caught up in a feeling, like happiness for example, and for a moment you let your guard down? That's when she'd swoop in to ruin your fun. And it was deliberate of course. I visited for Christmas once, and she bought presents just so she could snatch them out of my hands and be like NOPE. She'd intentionally build you up so she could knock you down.

And tbh there's a whole load of other stuff she did that I can't really be bothered typing out, I could honestly talk about her all day. First thing she'd do when I arrived is shave my head, for example. She only ever hit me once, with a book, and I cried.

Anyway, point is, she was a bully. So once I was old enough (and brave enough) I spoke up to my mum back home and simply said that I don't want to visit my dad anymore. And that was that. I must have been 10 or 11 at the time. I never looked back.

But I didn't stop to consider how that might affect my dad's kids.

Now, thankfully, they weren't treated poorly like I was. My dad's wife had beef with me for some reason, but wasn't nasty to her own kids. I didn't leave them alone in an abusive household, thank fuck. But I honestly could have. I had a way out and I took it without thinking. I was a kid, and I was afraid. I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself. But from their point of view, I'm just the brother who stopped visiting. No goodbye, no nothing.

I'm afraid that they've grown up hating me. It's been like 10-12 years since I left. They'd be angsty teenagers at this point, and who knows what their mother might have told them to explain why I never came back.