November 4, 1996, the day everything began for me. The pain, loss, suffering all of them had never crossed my mind as the life I would be living. My mother and father both worked all hours of the day and I mostly spent my time alone with my grandmother until Deziree my younger sister was born a year later. Then I spent my time with her. Happy and so naive.

My father had stated abuseing me when I turned a year old. He would give me what was an indian burn but on a 2-year olds arm a deadly break. He almost broke my arm than. A normal child would be spanked in punishment, I was beaten for stupid things like not cleaning up after his mess or incorrectly making him food. At the age of 5 I started kindergarden and I began to grow. School would end or Vacations would start and I would remember sobbing by the window knowing for 3 months I would be with the monster I called sir.

It never stopped there the next year my father had come rampaging into the living room pinning my mom in the recliner and wrapping his thick strong hands around her thin soft neck. I saw her eyes bluge out of her head and she would struggle to say "Go call 9-1-1" I remember him snapping at me to stay put. I knew better. I stayed still unmoving holding my little sisters hand pressed up against the wall hopeing to have a mother once this was over.

He never did kill her, nor come after my little sister and I. The abuse continued and the scars grew bigger. I turned 8 and was forced into singing and was forced to watch my weight. I was always put down and called fat and abused for being me. I was never allowed the smallest joys. That was the begining for me. I began to grow rebelious at the age of 10 cursing my fathers friends and him. I of course in return was beaten and bruised beyond belief. I remember soaking in the bath tub one night because the beaten had left marks as red as blood and raw as a sunburn.

My mother had taken me to the woman I called grandma. She was my mother when my mother worked late nights or was away on the weekends with her boyfriend. I remember ever moment I lived following my grandmother in art. I learned to sew and laugh again because of her.

My parents divorced on about 06. I do recall one thing my father never showed up to his trials and my mother got full custody and my father never once said I want to see my children. That moment I realised I was unwanted and unloved. My heart couldn't take the weight anymore. I became dark and violent. I went to counciling but it never helped me. I suffered.My grandmother my mother died in 08 and I was crushed. I had lost the only person who fully knew me.

When I got to middle school I began to slice my wrists to relieve the pain. In my 7th grade year I found friends who cared for me and I stopped. I began to live my life again.My father was found on facebook one day out of curiosity and he has 2 children. Both little girls. I died on the inside again. He had two more children that he cared for more because he had them without a second thought of me. I remember that night I cried not just for him but for my grandmother.

Now in my second year of high school I still feel pain and suffering and time hasn't healed anything in my heart. I seek help and advice I seek someone to guide me from the darkness and into the light of healing.