When I loved with my mom. I was only 4 years old. We went to McDonald's and my mom fell for cashier. They went on a few dates. Then a few months later marriage. He was okay in the beginning. But it got worse. Every night screaming at my mother. Yelling at me. Using my body for his needs. I was only 5. I was the mother to my baby brother who was 4, and my baby sister who was 2 or 3. I was Mom. I wasnt sister. It wasnt "Sissy come play with me!" It was, "Mommy I need help with my bath!" It was like that for years. And I was only getting worse. He hit me. He beat me. He raped me. For 4 or 5 years. On a constant. Then I called the police when he hit my mother a little to hard. He yelled a little to loud. I screamed a little to much. And I was never the same. Waking up in the night sweating and crying. Waking up screaming during school if I were to fall asleep. I was broken. And it only got worse. During 6th grade. I met a girl, her name is not to be said. But she knows who she is. This girl helped. Weather she knows or not is up to her. But I love her. Not romantically. But I love her. I cant say it enough. When I moved to where I am now, I met a group. A group in which I love. It contains, 9 people. The best 9 people I could ever have. They helped to. Then I have my two, my two lovers. Let's call them A and AJ. They are the best. That's it.
