My story

As a kid you never really pay attention to anything. I never payed attention to the fighting, drinking every night, drugs, or the days I didn't eat much I was fine with whatever I had, until the day I saw my father hit my mother. The game changed from that day on. As a 5 year old I was aware of what went on . The mental , verbal, and physical abuse. I watched them fight for hours and pretended like I was unaware. I lied for years about it. When someone asked me if I remembered it. I'd brush it off with no I was too young. I do remember though . I remember being afraid of my father . Scared that he'd do something to my siblings and I. But I played a game of pretend. Pretend I'm happy. Pretend he's the best dad in the world. But I knew better. I knew he was the bad guy. And finally my mom had enough of it. So we moved an hour away from "home" with what I eventually find out is my moms "Boyfriend". We stayed there for a while until he started to do the bad thing my father did. This time he hit me as well. I never told anyone about it because he said he'd do it again but harder so when someone asked what the bruise on my cheek was I'd say I fell outside. My mom and him eventually broke up. So we moved again this time to an apartment in Bakersfield. My mom had boyfriends come and go. Until I was about six and a half. But that was only after I'd had an horrific accident occur. One that I blamed myself for. My brothers and I never really got along with each other so while my brothers played with their friends I'd play by myself. Especially since I was the only darker toned person in that whole side of town.(it was a white supremacist complex) so i stayed in the front of my apartment with a doll and a house I made with cardboard boxes and played until my mom would tell me to get my brothers for dinner. So my mom called for us . My two younger brothers came but my older brother didn't. So I went up the hill to go get him from his friend's house (Dylan) I knocked on the door and Dylan answered and invited me in to wait for him so I did. Dylan shut the door behind me and I hear a click noise but I didn't think of it. He took me to his room and said that my brother was in the restroom. So I sat in there and started playing with his WWE dolls. He then grabbed me and said " if you scream or make any sound I'll kill you " he was 13 years old and I was 6. I had no power . He then proceeded to touch me and take off items of clothing. I began to cry ,at that moment he slapped me and told me to smile and say "give me more" I still cried. So he pulled my dress off and pulled his pants Down, then his underwear and in he forced it in . I began to scream and then he shoved a pillow on my face to muffle my screams of pain. This continued for what felt like hours. Finally when he finished he said " put your clothes on you bad girl before I tell your prostitute mommy what you LET me do" I listened to him and then he grabbed me and said "oh yeah your brother left hours ago and if you tell anyone anything I'll kill you and your family " so I didn't say anything that night at dinner. I waited until the next morning. When I was alone with my mom. She called the police and he was taken to jail. From then on I was known at school as the nasty one. That was until we were taken from my mom and put in foster care. After we'd been in the Jamison center for about 3 months we finally got placed in homes. My younger brothers together and my older brother and I together. I remember not talking to anyone for 9 months when I was first placed. Only communicating with head nods and shoulder shrugs. When I finally was comfortable in my living situation my mom took a turn for the worst . She was hospitalized for liver failure. I was only 8 at the time. I remember slowly watching her deteriorate. I remember having to put on yellow hospital suits in the ICU. Visiting her was confusing me. I never cried because of how sick she was or anything. I just sat and watched her leave us behind in this cruel world. And after 6 months of slowly dying in the hospital she passed away September 16,2008 . Then her funeral came around. I still hadn't cried. It took a whole year for me to finally cry. And I cried for weeks. I didn't eat or talk to anyone. I fell behind at school. Then my brother ran away. I was alone with no one to talk to. I attempted suicide at age 9 then 10 and 11,12,13, &15. I had a few good years where all I did was cut. Finally I put everything I had into school. I'm 16 now and no one knows my story. They think I'm just a happy swimmer and cheerleader who just magically gets good grades . They don't know what I've been through or how often I become depressed, or how I have anxiety attacks when someone touches me , or how I can't even have a boyfriend without shaking every time he kisses me or holds my hand. And using the excuse "because I'm cold" in the summer doesn't work. But it's okay I'm fine. I have people who love me and take care of me. I just have to pretend that I sleep at night, and I'm having a blast with everything I do . Just fake a smile because someone out there has it much worse than you .