My sister died in 2005. She left me alone. With them.

Don't worry. Somehow I knew, even in childhood, that she would never reach adulthood. The loss is immense yet somehow I foresaw this, the dark sister obsessed with the moon. I, the recipient of secrets, was abusive to her in childhood. Her brightness and beauty constantly astounded me. I was the target of mother and father, an abuse that was such a secret that even my sister, bright in her light, didn't know.

The abuse of sociopaths bent on a total obscurity of their actions is hard to fathom and understand. It was energetic, mostly. Their extremely toxic auras followed me. My father is a vile waste dump of bad energy that is enormous and unending. He never went through with physical touching, but his pedophilia I couldn't deny, even in infancy, when I would be forced to endure his repulsive inner nature. Once I hit puberty, I was leered at. I constantly called him a pathetic coward, which he is, through and through, effeminate and psychopathic. It led to a divorce that caused him to finally leave the house, which caused a happiness in my life that I look back on with delight. I had these eclectic friendships with weirdos that made me finally feel at home. I would invite them over on weekends, and I finally felt at home, at home, as well.

My mother is also a sociopath . She would follow me with her dead emotionless and devoid eyes as a child, giving me this sinking feeling of having nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Somehow, she was telling me without speaking: this is all in your head. She was, and is, pure evil. In the depths of misery once, I had a vision of a childhood long past. She was holding me and following me with those eyes, but they contained a malice and message that said, I want you dead. My soul flew out of my body, it seemed, as I ran away and looked for help. Would nature and those spirits help me, ones I've always known, my seven year old self begged in agony? I think I did receive help. I remember being walked home as I silently turned past, moving toward my toddler sister.

When my parents remarried each other, I had this strange feeling of the beginnings of soul loss. I knew something terrible would happen to me, and soon. He was back. At 12, I had envisioned a terrible thing occuring to me in the future due to both of them. I believe some things are predestined. What has happened since, my story, was meant to be, as horrific as it's been.

In 2005, I was raped, my sister died, and my parents began their series of abuses, all at once. I was only 19. My sister was 16 when she went back to Nature, but not before saying goodbye. I knew she had died before anyone else did because her spirit visited to say goodbye before she went far away.

It's strange, the abuse. How it felt, the gaslighting that went on for years, the visits to mental hospitals since. Sociopaths and soulless vampires take advantage of you when you are at your weakest, and I was incredibly weak. It's a kind of cording, a procedure of sorts, that makes it incredibly difficult to escape. I just knew that soon after my sister died, the energy surrounding me became incredibly sinister. I couldn't manage to mourn my sister properly. I could only cry in the car when I was alone. They were in the process of burying me. They never spoke her name, never cried, and couldn't have cared less that she died. I died too, forever loyal to her, my sister who my mother collected sun ornaments for, the bright one. The moon girl was lost, because without the sun to light her, there is no way of seeing her. She disappears.

So it begins. The mental hospitals, the mental agonies, the psychic attacks from them that left me utterly broken. I was constantly psychically attacked for 4 years straight. I was on my death bed when the spirits visited and I quickly left on a plane for somewhere else, far away. It was a massive psychotic break. The years after that was my long forgetting. My bliss at the end of the psychic attacks notwithstanding, I had lost my inner dark, the secrets a moon girl must carry, ones that tell that girl truths of who she is and where she's been.

I write this from a mental health program. Ha. They all like to think I have a mental illness, but I know better. It's interesting, my life: only the powerful have powerful enemies, and the magnititude of the psychic attacks I have endured for so long is a kind of sigul that shows me my immense virtue. A signal, a signpost: like Thor's Hammer, that I wear as a pendant. Only the virtuous have enemies this evil. If they could have gotten away with it, I'd been murdered by now.

I'm 33 now. My future is uncertain, but I'm certainly a writer. It's my bliss and my ultimate path. It has taken me a long time to attempt to write, truly write, like I used to. The writing that would always heal my soul is simmering beneath my heart. There is so much to say, and yet the words are hard to find. I've found them, here, on this forum. But only to a small degree. I have much more to share and much more to say about secrets, the spirits, and especially the moon.

One thing I have learned, that cannot be forgotten: evil ones want dominion over this earth, but they can't rise higher. Through writing, I rise higher, meeting the spirits as I am, naked and without pretense. They tell me my virtues. Maybe I can escape this terror. Maybe the ending is predestined too. What I know is, I have a story, and a power that is from Nature, a gift of writing, and a sister that flies, now, flies through the world but somehow never loses sight of where I am walking.