My Life Made Me Depressed

I can't ever say that I am proud of my parents. I have no idea what is wrong with my skin, but what my mom said about it hurts. It's nothing big. Small spots either on my legs or around my torso. What she called me before about that was, "rotten girl." I cried for years about that. I am not proud to have a mom like that. She has always hit my siblings and I as well. I still remember what she did. My sister (2 years-younger) accidentally broke the light bulb in our room while cleaning. My mom got mad at her for that and pushed her. My sister fell on our bed and she hit her lower back on the metal bed rail. My mom didn't even care. My mom just walked away telling my sister to pick up the broken glass. My little sister was crying (probably like 4 years old at this time) about something and wouldn't stop crying about it. My mom got tired about her crying, so as a result to shut her up was by smacking right across the face. I know that it was late and all, but thinking about it now, it makes me think can she really consider herself as a mother? For my little brother, almost the same case except a year younger. He was crying and my mom got tired of it. She tied him with a blanket where some people would carry their baby on their backs. She propped up a bottle for him to drink if he wanted it. She still gets onto me and never tried to support me. Everything that I wanted to do, she makes me think over it again. Now, she doesn't really hit us anymore. Instead, she makes us feel stupid or pathetic. My dad wasn't the best years ago. I get hit the most from him. If my sister accidentally hit our little sister, he thought I was the one who hurt her. I remember one where my sister got in the car first and kicked my little sister. My dad said that I should've let my little sister get in the car first. I got smacked on the right thigh. He left me a hand print on my thigh. And the time of one my siblings dropped a bag of cheetos on the ground in the living room. I was cleaning it up as the responsible older sister that I was. My dad came in and hit my back and head asking me if I was stupid and why I wasn't being careful. I was the only one who I got in trouble a lot for things that aren't even my fault. I lie to both my parents sometimes. They could tell if my siblings are lying, but they can't tell if I am lying to them. I can't do anything right in front of their eyes. Even if I were to help around the house, no one says anything. When I don't do anything to help, they call me lazy. My sister and I used to be so close. I can tell her anything and she can tell me anything. She won't talk to me anymore and I can't tell her anything either without her being so annoyed with me. I find it so hard to talk to anyone. I lie to everyone. If they ask, "How are you doing? Everything ok?" I respond to that I am ok and that everything is good. Like I live a perfect life. Giving off a fake smile when inside I am so broken. I know I am stupid, I know that I can't cook, I know that I can't think, I know that I'm a burden, and I know that I was a big mistake. How was I suppose to know that my male family members weren't suppose to touch me? How was I suppose to know that I needed to do female things when I don't dress so well like one? Cook like I was suppose to and do housewife things in the house when they wouldn't teach me so early? I know I was that sick child that was close to death. I didn't need negative comments about me. I needed support and help and teachings. I needed a parent that I could trust and that is actually willing to listen to me without brushing me off. I was truly meant to be well off let for death than being here at all.