I was born June 3, 1988. I am now 23 years old. I was adopted by my family when I was six years old. My biological parents were killed in a store robbery. Life as far as I can remeber was great. I was cared for, and felt loved and happy. But then my sunny days darkened at the age of nine, I was raped by my dads best friend. I remeber crying alot, and not letting anyone touch me. Once my parents got tired of not getting through to me they took me to a child's doctor. I was never the same but the day came when I could hug my dad and not scream. I was eleven when things turned bad again. My parents were killed in a car accident, leaveing me and my brothers in foster care we were split up.
It wasnt but a few weeks until I was put into a foster familys house, where I was raped and molsted again and again and again. I hated my self and a few weeks before my 12th birthday, I took a stake knife and cut my arm all the way up. When I was found they bandaged my arm up, and I got beat for doing it. The kid at school who had always bullied me, grabbed my arm the next day, when the blood seeped through, he started holloering for the teacher, (guess he wasnt all bad).
I was put back into foster care, when I was 13 I was sent to a family, who said they wanted me. Life with them was ok, they were sweet and loving, but they were not my family, and by then I had figured out what a tragaty I was to people. Eight months before my 15th birthday I was raped again, this time by a man who had broken into the house to rob it, I just happened to be there alone. A month after my 15th birthday I gave birth to a little girl.
I hated her and loved her at the same time. I loved her cause she was a part of me, I hated her because everytime I looked at the little girl I saw what he did to me. As she turned two months old, I let the family I had been with adopt her. And due to thier deal they adopted me too. I broke down one day and told them of the other family who had adopted me and my older brothers form that family. They left no stone unturned until they found my three brothers.
The oldest one was dead, over doesed on drugs at the age of 14. The other two were alive and together. By the time we found them I was 17, they were 19, and 22. Because my newest family wanted me happy so we packed up and moved three states over so that we could all be together.
I was so happy, life was great again. But life f**king sucks. On my 20th birthday, I was walking to church where I was soppose to be baptised, when a car pulled up and asked if I wanted a ride. Figureing my family was already there and I was running late I got in the car. A week later, I was found. Beaten, bloody, raped, and sottamized. I had been strangled many times and my throut was torn up, in the past 3 and a hlaf years I have not been able to speck a word, and I am in a wheel chair. In the mist of him beating my, he snaped my spinal cord. I was in the hospital for close to a year. A month after I got out, the neighbor man saw me out back, comeing out to say hello, he saw the gun I had in my mouth. That was right around the same time my parents came running out of the house, begging me not to do it.
The neighbor man asked me if he could show me something, and because I refused to go to his house, and refused to put down the gun, he brought his labtop out to me.
What he showed me that day, was a story of a little girl who was kidnapped, raped and killed. She was only 4. Another story was of a family who was in a car accident, the dad was severly burned saveing his 3 year old son, and he was shown smileing and laughing holding his son. On and on he showed me these storys. As he closed his computer, and wiped my tears off my face he told me his story. A long time ago, when he was in school he was a bully. He was always picking on this one girl, and then one day he grabbed her arm and there was blood. Said that he holloered for the teacher, and thats when the little girl cried and said what had been happening.
His life changed that day, when that little girl told of the horrors done to her. He wiped his own tears away and smiled at me. "You see" he said. "No matter what happened to you, there is someone out there getting hurt worse"
That night as we talked, it turned out I was the girl from his story and he was my bully. Nine months ago we were married. Last week we found out he has a sever case of a brain tumor. The doctor gave him a month at the most. Two days ago he passed away.
For all the bad that has happened to me I am praying for the things happening to others out there. And remember, as bad as it is on you, there IS someone out there getting hurt even worse.