On June 11, 1973, I was born to a single mother who told me once I got older that she never wanted to have me in the first place. I was faced with obstacles before I ever came out of the womb. My mother told me on several occasions that she tried to do everything to abort me. At that time abortions were not legal so she had no choice but to carry me full term. Once I was born she refused to feed or hold me at the hospital until one of my aunts suggested that she take a look at such a pretty baby. She decided then to take me home but that was not the end of her trying to give me away.

Around the age of 5 years old she met a woman that did not have any children. They became very good friends. My mother then decided to give me to this woman. She packed all my things one day and just left me at her house. I was scared and did not know what was going on. For weeks, I cried because I wanted my mother. Since I would not stop crying the woman called my mother and asked her to take me back. God I wish to this day that she would have left me there. Years went by and I still never felt a mother's love. I can't remember as a child my mother every telling me that she loved me or her ever showing me any kind of affection. She kept me sheltered from the rest of my family for reasons to this day that are unknown. I spent most of my childhood involved in the church choir, Sunday school, and church activities. I can't say what it would really be like to have real friends because I could not use the phone, watch television or play with other children for any long periods of time.

My mothers' boyfriend played a significant role in her life. She lived her life as she thought that was comfortable to him. He was alright at first but once she allowed him to make changes in her life things went down hill. Before my mother met him we lived in a nice neighbor with a good school district. He would visit more and more. The more that he came over things were changing everyday it seemed.
As a little girl I loved to go to work with my oldest sister. Then one day my two older sisters were not there anymore. As I got older I found out the reason for them leaving. My mother did not believe my sister when she told her that her boyfriend was trying to have sex with her. My mother believed him before she believed her own daughter. Since he could not get close to her he looked for his next victim. At the age of 7 my mother decided to move in with this man and my other three sisters. We did not like the decision she was making but what could we say. At first I looked up to him as a father figure but over the weeks things changed. He started treating me differently than my sisters.

When I was a little girl I would get sick a lot. My mother would not stay home from work she would make me stay home with him. I didn't think anything of it at first. I trusted him when things started to happen, at first I did not understand. I use to think to myself why is this happening to me? I would ask myself; do I trust people too easily? He used to say to me could he have some "sugar". One night I was sleeping on the top bunk bed when he walked in the room while mommie was at work and put his face between my legs. He would tell me not to say anything. There were other times when he would take his penis and pat it back and forth between my legs until some white stuff came out. He would give me money, and take me shopping. Mommie would never say anything but I had feeling that she knew what was going on. My sisters knew what was going on because they would tease me about it. If they would ask me to do something and I wouldn't do it they would use that against me. Believe me it was the simplest form of torture.

I could remember as if it were yesterday when he caught me outside playing with my friends. He told me to come in the garage. When I stepped inside he closed the automatic door. He had on a white jumper with brown shit on him and he smelled of sweat. He locked the other door so basically I was trapped. He told me if I scream that he would choke the life out of me. I stood there feeling afraid and helpless. In an instance I heard my mother calling my name. He grabbed me by the throat and told me not to say a word. She kept yelling my name, and I had no chance of giving her an answer. When he felt he was finished he let the garage door up. In a dash I ran around the corner and acted as if I came from down the street or something. When I came in the house mommie asked if I heard her calling my name? I told her no. She asked me if I was in the garage with him I told her no. She told me not to lie to her. The next thing I know, the pot of greens that she was cooking on the stove was on my back. She scolded my entire back. I ran under the bed. My back was burning but I stayed there. I was too afraid to move. I didn't go to school for an entire week. She had one of sisters stay home with me. Fear was instilled in me from that day on. My mother was not a very patient woman when she wanted to know something or when she wanted things done. There were many times when I wanted to tell her what was going on with me but never had the courage.

In the early 1980's my aunt died. My mother had to go to Chicago for the funeral. I begged her over and over again not to leave me at the house with him. It did not matter how much I begged her she did not listen. He tried to touch me the entire time she was out of town. I didn't have anyone to turn to for help. As I got older I started to say no to him. I did not think that I could talk to anyone about what was going on because of the way that my sisters treated me when I wanted to tell them what was really going on. Years passed and I put what happened behind me. I would not look at him or even allow him to say anything to me. continue