Journal

Zane was my everything. At the time, when my parents were obessing over my brothers and newly born sister i felt he was the only one there for for me.

It started out with little things. He had taken me to a dirty apartment, telling me that i was just doing him a little favor.

Zane took me to a room and said to do whatever the person in there told me to do. I was confused. Why? He told me he needed something from the man and didnt have the money to get it. So instead of money the man would get me for an hour or so. I asked Zane what he needed. He told me it was his medicine. I was convinced it was for a good cause so i went in, expecting him to make me clean or cook or something stupid like that.

It wasn't like that.

The man... he told me to call him Carl... he was older then Zane, at least in his twenties, he forced me to..     

FUCK IT

I'm gonna finish this.. I need to.

I had never heard of the words he threw at me. At least not in the same circumstances I was in then. I lost my virginity to that man. It was gross. Painful.  I had cried... Sometime I hadn't let myself do since I was a toddler. And as I sat there, huddled on the floor... fucking naked... Zane walked in. I thought he was going to save me. I thought he was going to make things BETTER. They talked for a brief moment, Carl gave him a brown paper bag. I could see it in Zane's eyes, something I had never seen in it before. Greed.  Need. For whatever was inside the bag. He glanced over at me, taking in my blood shot eyes and bruised skin. I can remember what he fucking said to this day.

"Can I get more if I let you keep her a few more hours?"

My world came crashing down. He was supposed to protect me. He was supposed to care. I blacked out after that. I remember red sharp pain. And a sence of hopelessness. I felt dead. Like nothing else mattered anymore. From that day on, Zane took me back to Carl. And I didn't say a word. I just let it happen. Like I deserved it.

I figured out later on that what I had done was in exchange fore drugs. Heroine.... He exchaned my sanity for fucking drugs.

Whatever. I'm over him. I'm over that. I WILL SURVIVE DAMN IT.

I don't understand how I let it happen. I mean, I'm a good kid at heart really and my parents are together and... I have no excuse. Yet I'm tearing my mother apart at the seams. I've sent my entire family scrambling to fit my 'needs' because I had a mental breakdown. I don't remember much of it. Only running. And running. I remember the tears running down my face and my sides burning like hell. Finally i stop in a cornfield. I don't know where I am or how I got there. So I grab my cell phone and make my mom pick me up. That's when I notice the blood soaking up my sleeves. I roll them up to find deep gashes torn into my skin with a razor. Though I don't remember doing them I know I had. My mother, fucking bless her, she takes me to a behavioral ward and is crushed to find out that they want to keep me as an impatient. There I learn words like SIRS, triggers and coping skills. I meet people who are like me in so many ways that I start feeling terrible for liking it there. My mood swings were accepted and it seemed that the more fucked up I was the more accepting they became. I learned things though. I learned more than new terms. I learned conditions... Like severve depression... and rape. I couldn't fucking take it anymore. I needed to get out, away from the problems that they wanted me to face. I ran back into the arms of my still reeling family, still an emotional wreak. I get a tharapist and learn more about myself. Panic attacks... anxiety.... Everything. Sure I cut myself to stay alive but I figured everyone had their own cross to bear. I don't know why. And though I am trying to tell myself it's not my fault my mother is still pressing me for details. She doesn't think I have a problem. It's for attention... I couldn't bear it. As I talked in detail about my heavy drug use and sexual activity I was still trying to convince my Mom that I needed this. Still trying to convince her that my father's... my brother's anger was too much. It WASN'T normal and we had to stand up and fight back before it swallows us whole. Whatever.. I'm going to stop now. This actually helped...