Some people just should not have contact with children. They’re not kind, they don’t have anyone’s best interests at heart, and on the worst of days, they’re not safe, either.

Sadly, sometimes parents don’t realize just what’s going on – and kids can be bullied into not wanting to say.

OP spent afternoons at his grandparents’ house, with the bonus of his aunt and uncle being around.

I do have many stories peppered throughout my life that I want to share, but this was the first one that came to mind. This one has to do with my childhood and dealing with a psychotic and racist Aunt and Uncle.

When I was a child, I was often assaulted and bullied for being a mixed blood kid (mulatto) by both my own family and kids in school. There are many things that my aunt and uncle did to me and got away with, which I will share the highlights of later.

This story however, is not one of those.

My uncle was the alpha tormentor between the two. Both my Aunt and Uncle still lived with my grandparents, so there was no way to avoid them because I had to go to my grandparents’ house after school while my dad was still at work.

Except it wasn’t a bonus at all.

My uncle liked to play “games” with me in order to turn me into a “fearless pit dog”, as he put it, when I asked him one day why he was tormenting me so much.

When he said that, the fact he was being completely honest as well as smiling about it, I decided right then and there that this man was my enemy and would have to deal with him accordingly.

If he wanted a “Pit Dog”, he was going to get one. After overcoming my shock of his honest answer, I said “Fang You Uncle. just Fang you.”

One “game” in particular really upset OP.

One of the “games” that he loved to play, was chasing me down the road to my grandparents’ house which felt like an honest attempt to literally run me over. He’d always do this as I was walking home to my grandparents’ house after school.

Luckily most times he ended up just chasing me off the road. The game started like this: he would stop his truck at the end of the road that my grandparents place was on and rev the engine of his truck three times.

That was the signal that the “game” was about to begin. After the third rev, he would hit the gas and come screaming down the road toward me. I would have to leap off the road to avoid being ran over.

After at least a couple of months of dealing with this, I had enough. I was tired of feeling afraid of walking down that street. I thought it over for while before I decided I would get revenge.

So, his little boy brain devised a plan.

On the days when I wasn’t being chased, I started to count how many steps it took to get to an old stump on the side of the road that was hidden by briars.

I’d walk backwards just so I could eye the distance between the end of that road and the stump so I would know when to run. 17 steps.

It would take 17 steps from the time he would start roaring down that road at me to get to that stump.

It went off without a hitch.

The day finally came about a couple weeks later. When I heard his truck, I wasn’t afraid anymore, I was angry.

As per normal, he revved his engine three times then gunned it around the corner.

I waited until he was close enough before I ran as fast as I could up the side of the road and behind the stump, throwing my backpack into a deer trail I could jump into in case my plan failed, then quickly turned towards the stump and the oncoming truck bearing down on me.

As expected, he followed me up the side of the road, too fixed on me to pay attention to where he was going.

The next few moments were beautiful. The briars parted like the Red Sea, and to my delight I saw his eyes go wide as he realized what he was about to smash into.

He yanked the steering wheel to the left, his front right tire going over the stump which launched him into the air. As he flew past me, I could see the look of terror on his face and Grinning madly, I began to shout insults at him as his truck nearly flipped in midair.

Instead of flipping, the truck roughly came back down on four wheels and he continued down the road to my grandparents house and parked in the gravel driveway.

I grabbed my backpack, ran up the trail and hid. I didn’t come out until after dark when my dad came to get me.

Actual bonus: his dad realized something bad was going on and tried to fix it.

I knew the sound of my dad’s car, a Datsun B210, so when I heard him coming up the road, I immediately came out, waved him down, and quickly jumped into the passenger seat.

My dad asked me concerned as to why I was out there. At first I just kept telling him over and over that we needed to just go straight home and under no circumstances go to my grandparents’ house.

When my dad kept asking why, I finally told him everything that happened. Without another word, he turned the car around, silently fuming, and drove us home.

I don’t know if my dad talked to my Uncle after what happened, but what I do know is that “game” never happened again. That “game” at least.

Reddit has to be on the kid’s side this time!

Every kid who experienced something similar was applauding.

Some adults are just awful.

They’re wondering why OP didn’t ask his dad to call the cops.

This person wishes OP’s dad would have done more.

Sadly, the dad didn’t have a choice.

I hate that some kids just draw the short straw when it comes to family.

It definitely shouldn’t be that way.

If you thought that was an interesting story, check this one out about a man who created a points system for his inheritance, and a family friend ends up getting almost all of it.