Perhaps the most asked question, WHY?

Abused as a child,
By my family and their friends,
Most of them knew, my parents included
Yet not one person stopped it, all that mum and dad ever did,
Was to laugh at me as I cried, then scream at each other a minute later,
After that they would drink warm beer and cheap wine
The smell of cigarettes lingers in the air,
Descending over me with the pain, like a grey, misty, hazy fog,
As the beatings ensued.

When they weren't hitting each other,
They would hit me instead,
Daddy’s little girl,
His darling princess,
Forgave him everything he did,
For he was my God, my Idol, my Hero,
It was easy to forgive him, but I never forgot,
All the beatings that left me curled up in a ball,
My skin redder than red, closer to purple, really,
Lost track of the times I cried so hard I threw up,
Can't remember how often I ran and hid,
Only to be found by my mother...

Mummy’s little monster,
Scared of her mother,
Voice raised in a screaming-below,
Her fists ‘tickle’ my face
Split lips, blood drawn,
Told not to tell, ‘Or else’
I cried and I cried,
Held a damp rag to my mouth,
Told to, ‘Shut the fuck up now, or I'll fucking give you something to fucking cry over!’

My older half-sister watched,
She got me the cloth,
Told me to tell my teachers I fell.
Used to it by then, I did.

Grandmother was crazy,
Not crazy insane,
Just a psychopath,
Took pleasure in creating pain
Used to hold me still,
Then let her dog bite me
Just so that she could throw her hands in the air,
And get some attention,
Not just a bite,
But skin torn, blood dripping,
Should have had stitches, instead I have scars
Made to strip so she  could ‘check’ my body for wounds
Then she would scream and wail some more,
Till her boyfriend came in,
Then he would look too,
And she would laugh  when he said with a leer, ‘Growing nicely, isn't she?’

Pinned down, beaten,
Starved and abused,
Neglected and worse,
Why did no one do anything?!

I disowned my father,
Wish I could disown my mother,
Disowned my fathers mother, too.

Emotional, physical, psychological and sometimes sexual

That’s what I mean when I say abused.  

A hatred of women, a distrust of men,
I am female, barely 17, the confusion I live with is intense.
Tried telling my friends, they laugh it off, think I'm joking, call me sick
When I talk about it with my family, they deny it ALL.

But I know what happened, where and HOW I got my scars, physical and not,
I know why I had therapy as a 7 year old. Because I wanted to kill myself. To this day my mum refuses to admit that that is the truth. She dares to claim I had a happy childhood, that everything was okay.
She even says she was beyond surprised when I attempted suicide last year.  I personally think it was predictably. I'm so sick of the lies I have to tell my family to keep them happy, of denying my past so that they won't be uncomfortable being around me. Mum says she doesn't understand why I resent her. I’m exhausted with the fake-happy smiles, of hiding my pain, of trying to play happy families and failing. What’s worst is that my family deny it all, I understand my mother doing this, but my sister??