My Roommate. My Savior.

Chapter 3

(Mrs. Carpenter/ Ali's paper)

Story of my life: by, Ali Forester.

You know how sometimes in movies or books the star will be a young girl with the abusive parents or maybe just abusive dad? Or the ones where the young girl had a druggie parents so she went into a foster home or orphanage? Well if you know what I'm talking about, than mush those two together and you'll know my story just by a different author.

I could tell you, I was born in an ally. My mom was a dope head. Her boyfriend raped me and she beat me after. Then when I finally got away I went into a foster home and they did basically the same thing. But if I said that, it wouldn't be very heartfelt. So instead I am going to tell you all of that but in depth.

Year one of my life was in an ally, with my biological mother and my "sperm donor." They were both so very deep into drugs I never really had a chance to be a baby. I didn't ever do normal baby things. I think I was probably about one before I had my first meal. But I managed to stay alive.

Year two, was about the same but "mom" and "dad" had made more money since my first year of life so I was able to eat more the second year. They weren't the most healthy meals ever but they were meals none the less.

Year three, now that is the year when it got interesting. I had just turned three the first time "dad" raped me. I'd like to say when I told "mom" that"dad" had hurt me she made him go away. Sadly she didn't. When I told her she told me she already knew and that she had just sat there and watched. I broke.

Now keeping in mind that I was three, when "dad" raped me, I didn't give much of a fight. It was easy. He decided that he would do it everyday in the afternoon and if it got harder he would put me in my place. With "mom's" help obviously.

Years four and five were basically the same. But at some point "mom" and "dad" taught me everything I needed to know about living on the streets as a criminal.

Year six, this is where it got more exciting and busy. "Mom" decided it was time to put me on the streets. I was sent out everyday with a bag full of every drug you can think of and then some. My job was to sell to those who could afford it. I would walk around all day no matter what the weather was I was on the road. Just as the sun hit the horizon I would head "home." And let me just say I was only late once and I swore, never again. Mostly because "mom" and "dad" had their fun if that's what you call it, with me. But also because, can you imagine all the creeps that are on the streets at night. No thank you.

By seven I was a criminal by definition. I could pick a lock I could force someone to buy dope, weed, pott, heroine, etc. even if they didn't want to. I knew all the back roads to use if I was ever in need of them. And can I just say, through all this time my only dream was to get out. Now, that is not a big deal but any seven year old girl you talk to will tell you that she wants to be a princess, yet here I am and all I want for myself is to get out. Talk about depressing.

Eight and nine were pretty normal. Everyday I'd get up and go to "work" then I'd come "home". When I got home I'd give my bag to "mom" then "dad" would come and take me for a while. He'd do his deed a few times then he'd take me back to "mom". When I got back with "mom" she would tell me weather or not I had gotten the required 3,000 dollars. If I hadn't she'd beat me and if I did she'd beat me, just not as bad. That was my life for three years.

Ten years old and my life changed. One day I'm walking down the street and I bump into him, my savior. Everyday I wish I had gotten his name but sadly the only thing I knew about him was that he was a police officer and that he saved my life and just in nick of time too. The officer was not very happy that I had bumped into him. I was jumping up and down inside but he was just cleaning the fresh coffee off of himself. After he had taken in my appearance he asked me, "What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Now, I'm ten years old and at the time I didn't know I was breaking the law all I knew was that I was doing something I didn't like. So I told him the best I could, "I'm working for mom and dad." He hmmed and nodded. "Do you mind if I look in your bag?" Where someone would be saying, 'Who the hell do you think you are tryin' to look in my bag?!' Nope. Not me. I gave that thing to him quicker than you can say drug.