My Story

Dear Reader,
I don’t know who you are or what you’ve been through. But, I know at some point in your life you’ve hit what you believe is rock bottom, where you stop and look up to the sky and say I can’t take any more, I just can’t do it.
“What doesn’t kill you, will only make you stronger.”
I thought this saying was completely wrong, but now I know better. My rock bottom almost killed me and for a long time I’ve believed that it was because I was weak. But, I’m not, I’m strong. I survived it and though it was a battle where I bled inside and out I am stronger now.
Like I said in the beginning, I don’t know you. I don’t know why you decided to pick this up and read it. Maybe you’re looking for support, someone that’s going through what you’ve gone through. Maybe you just wanted to read about someone’s hardships to compare it to your own. Maybe you’re at the doctor’s office and there’s nothing else to read, whatever the case may be I want you to understand that I wrote this for one reason and one reason only.
“To tell my story.”
I don’t want to put anyone down or make them seem worse then they really were. I don’t want to make anyone look good. I’m not trying to get sympathy and I’m not trying to save the world. All I’m doing is telling my story, finally.

She ran her hands through her perfectly red and blonde highlighted hair as she sat cross legged underneath her all white down comforter. A silent tear ran down her blush stained cheek and fell to her perfectly tanned shoulder. She let out a deep sigh and closed her painted eyelids, hoping the memories would fade. When she opened her dark brown eyes, the pain in her heart remained, and she threw back the blanket that protected her from the world. She slipped into her Coach sneakers, touched up her black eyeliner, ran strawberry smacker lip gloss over her pouty lips and walked out her bedroom door with a smile on her face. She unplugged her new cell phone, read a few missed text messages, replied carefully with the appropriate haha’s and aww’s. She adjusted her shirt and walked out the front door, not ready to face another day, but doing it anyways.
She arrived at school, with her head held high, met up with the usual girls and strolled the hallways with them, like they owned the school. She knew she looked stuck up, but she didn’t care because they wanted everything she had, or at least they thought they did. She was the master at fooling people. They envied her perfect grades, new clothes, friends, and unfrazzeled hair. While she looked past each one of them like they were invisible she begged God to let her switch places with any of them, even if it was just for a day. She only half listened to her friends’ stories, carefully smiling at all the right times and laughing when she heard others laugh, but her thoughts were lost. In class, she always had something to say and knew she would win whatever it was that she decided to argue about that day. Not that any of it really mattered to her, but no one questioned her sad eyes or sharp tongue and that really did matter to her.
Home was a different story, though. She made it through the day and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and escape the world she hated so much, but her parent’s wouldn’t have that. They always wanted to talk and she knew if she sat out in the living room to long they’d see a lonely tear run down her cheek and then there’d be no more pretending. So, she broke their hearts day after day to protect her secret. To protect his secret…
I grew up being referred to as Rodney and Daniel’s little sister. And up until the summer before sixth grade the only thing that bothered me about that was that I wasn’t their brother. Sometimes they let me go climb trees and run around outside with them, usually in exchange I had to cook them and their friends lunch. I learned how to cook grill cheese for a reason; spending a day with them was the best I could think of. They made me cry a lot, but no one else did. I knew I was annoying to them, but I didn’t care, they were the coolest things I’d ever seen. There was always a group of teen boys at my house and I loved it. I learned not to cry in front of their friends because then I’d be sent inside. I never played with dolls; I hated dresses, and despised the color pink. Other then the fact that I had to sit when I peed and I was 8 years younger then my oldest brother, I was one of them. I may have thought that there was only one Barbie doll, but I could throw a right hook better then half the guys in Hillsdale High by the time I was eight. “It’s going to be easier for your dad if we’re closer to the water”, my mom explained to me, as we rolled our valuables in newspaper and carefully placed them in card board boxes. I was ready to move away from our small town because the more I noticed I was not a boy and boys were pretty cute, the more I desperately wanted the “Rodney and Daniel’s little sister” label to leave me. Public middle school in a new city was amazing. Sixth grade was that time for me when I really started to develop. I got a shape and started wearing my first skirts, not often, but it was a start. I hung out with girls and got my first kiss. I got into a little trouble in Monroe, but nothing out of control. I pierced my belly button after my parents told me no and I got caught shoplifting. When that school year got out, we moved back to Hillsdale.
I was ready to move back, city life was a little to over-whelming for me.
I was a year older and looked a lot different then when I left. Enrolling into Davis Middle School, life didn’t look so bad. Then, the label came back, but this time instead of wrestling with me, guys didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t the little girl that use to cook them lunch anymore, but Daniel was still my older brother and he made it very clear that no one was to look, touch, or talk to me. During Daniel’s football games he actually had this boy named Devin follow me around and make sure no boys talked to me. I hated it. I wanted my freedom and Daniel would have no such thing.
In Hillsdale, the freshman and seniors go to football camp together. One night Daniel stood up on a table and told all the football players there that if anyone so much as looked at me he’d kill them himself. My brother stood six foot two and weighed about 225 lbs. He was known for fighting and having an attitude, no one doubted his seriousness. Halfway through my seventh grade year, someone that went to school with Daniel told him that his little brother thought I was cute. After seeing him on his way home one day, Daniel drove his Suzuki off the road, onto the sidewalk in attempt to run him over. Over all, I liked Hillsdale. I made what I thought was going to be life long friends and some of them I still think are going to be.
After Daniel graduated he moved to Tennessee with some friends, Rodney, my oldest brother had stayed in Monroe with his girlfriend, Kristy, and we were moving to Florida, the day after school got out.
I hated Florida. My life pretty much consisted of talking on the phone and instant messaging people on the computer from Michigan. I didn’t have any friends down here and I’d talk to anyone who sympathized with what I was going through. This is where Adam comes in…
His parents called and asked me if I would write to him while he was going through training in California, trying to become a Marine. Kind of funny now that I think about it, that he was one of the people that gave me the right to write this book. I grew up around Adam. I really can’t remember a time when he wasn’t around and I was always like a little sister to him. I wrote him letters and he wrote back. When he got back to Michigan he added me on MSN instant messenger and we talked every now and then. He wanted to know how the family was and just basic brother to sister talk. Adam and his parents came down to visit for a day that summer and we teased and goofed around. It was really good to see a familiar face in a place full of strangers. When they got back to Michigan I started talking to him a lot over MSN, but our conversations began to change. He would make comments about how I looked so grown up, but not grown up enough to handle him.
This should have been the point where I said, “Eww…you’re totally like my brother.” Or, realized that this could not be a good situation at all. But at fourteen, I thought I can handle anything thrown my way and besides he was all the way in Michigan, its not like I’d ever have to live up to anything I said, right? Wrong…
Well, I talked back and said maybe he wouldn’t be able to handle me. I’m really not sure if I knew what exactly neither of us could handle of each other, but I knew some nights he made me giggle and blush and other nights he sent chills down my spine. Not the good kind of chills that u get after eating too much of your favorite ice cream in the AC, but the bad kind you get when the lights are all out and the tree outside your window is making funny shapes on your wall. This went on for awhile, these obscene conversations between and a full grown man and a girl, trying to find her place in a new world.
All this got put on hold, though. My two brothers and Kristy, my oldest brother’s girlfriend, moved down to Florida. Daniel was very sick and Rodney didn’t know what to do. When he got here he couldn’t see very well, couldn’t eat or drink, so we took him to the Emergency Room. My brother was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor and my life turned upside down.
My family and I spent a lot of time in Gainesville, FL at Shands Hospital. Some days I was the happiest person alive, like the day my brother spoke, fed himself, or took his first steps. But, some days were like the devil himself had appeared. Five and a half months later, my brother was finally at home. He wasn’t the same as he was before he went in, but he came home…that’s the important part.
This took a toll on me. Daniel went from being my over-protective brother to my needing-protection brother. I slept in his hospital room with him whenever I could convince my parents to let me and I told a few nurses off that I didn’t think were doing their jobs right. I learned to be strong for him on the outside, but on the inside my tears never stopped falling.
My eighth grade year was hard. I was in a new town and I missed so much school that I never really got very close to anyone. As soon as I would start to establish my group of friends I’d go back up to the hospital and lose that small connection I had made. At the end of eighth grade we had to choose which high school we wanted to go to. I chose the school that most of my classmates weren’t going to, so I could start over again.
I’m not really positive when Adam came back into the picture, but soon we were talking on the phone as well as instant messaging. He was caring and sensitive, just the kind of person that I needed at this point in my life. Sure, he said some things that were out of line, but he was a family friend, he was to be trusted.
You’re friends will be the first to screw you because you’ll never give your enemies the chance. I had to learn this the hard way. I trusted Adam because he’d been around since as long as I can remember. He was already in my life and I was blind to his plan. I want you to understand that then I truly felt like every word he uttered was gold. Now, I feel as though I was dumb to believe him, simply because I had known him for so long. And I’m sure that later in life I will realize that it was not my fault and the only thing I should be mad about is keeping silent for so long. But for now I’m just here to tell my story…
Adam was my exit. My life seemed so jumbled. Dealing with my brother was difficult, school, my parents, everything was different. I felt so lost and alone and Adam made me feel like I belonged. Don’t get me wrong, my parents have always shown me love and affection and gave me their time even in the midst of my brother’s illness. But, it wasn’t how it should be and I guess I’ve never learned to deal with change.
Currently, Wal-Mart is being remodeled and I get so frustrated and irritated when we go in there. The deodorant is by the purses, instead of the lotion and the C.D’s are by the shoes, instead of the belts. If Wal-Mart bugs me this much, imagine how much this huge transition in my life was sending me over the edge.
The summer before my freshman year Adam came down to stay with us. I was excited that he was coming down to visit and I honestly didn’t put much thought into my over-the-top conversations I’d had with him.
Adam, Daniel, and I went to Mike Greenwell’s the night he arrived at our house. It started out fun, like when I was younger and I felt so comforted to know that my brother was okay and someone I had grown up around was there. We were all having a good time, just like before. Then, Adam ran his golf club up the back of my skirt. The cold metal sent goosebumps down my legs and my heart began to race. I didn’t look at him the rest of the night and I tried to keep my distance. I remember telling myself I wasn’t scared of him and I could handle it, but still something kept me on the opposite side of each put-put hole.
When we got back to the house, everything went smoothly and I went to bed before anyone else. I usually would stay up late on the computer, but I was tired that night or maybe I didn’t want to get caught alone with Adam, either way I was the first that went to bed. I didn’t go to sleep, though. I tried to calm my nerves telling myself I was a big baby. My phone went off late that night with a text message from Adam asking about his massage. My heart raced and my palms got sweaty in a matter of seconds, I didn’t know what to say. He had asked me to go out there, so instead of ignoring his text or yelling for help, I responded. “Haha…maybe you should come in here and give me a massage, I don’t do stuff for free.”
These are the moments you look back on and kick yourself for over and over. It’s bad enough that I started this whole thing, acting like I was some grown woman who understood half of the things this man told me, but then I invited him into my room. I was scared and everything in my body told me this was wrong, but I shut it out and said something I didn’t mean. I was so naive. I thought that he would just lay out there on the couch or something. I invited a man into my room in the middle of the night and I didn’t think anything was going to happen to me. I mean I may as well have thrown my legs in the air and said no need to pretend like you like me just get it over with. But, oh no…that would have been too easy.
A few minutes went by after I sent my text as I lay in bed fearing what was at the other end of my house. Now, see this was a funny situation because I had always feared someone being outside of my house and breaking in to attack me. But, I had just invited someone inside my house to…and I can’t even say attack because that sounds so violent, but manipulate, which is so much less effort then attacking. Well, as I lay in bed scared, not that I was sure what I was scared of at the time, my heart raced and my breathing grew deep and heavy. Then, I saw his dark, tall figure standing at my doorway. There were no lights on in the house and he looked like a huge, out of place, shadow. I sat up in bed and brought my knees to my chest. I had never before had a man in my room so late at night that wasn’t my dad; I don’t even think my brothers had ever entered my room that late when it was so dark. And the air that he brought with him was so much harder to breathe then the air that had been in my room just a few seconds ago.
It seemed to only take him 0.5 seconds to make it from my door to my bedside. I was sure he could hear my heart beating out of my chest and he must have thought I was so stupid and so young and so not what he wanted. And even though my conscience was scared… and I say my conscience because I did not realize until now that I was scared of him, my actions and feelings were trying to tell me so, I just wasn’t listening. Even though my conscience was scared, I feared that he would dismiss this late night meeting. Something in me yearned for his acceptance. Even now, I’m not sure why I needed that acceptance from him, but something in me needed it so desperately. Maybe because he was the first person to treat me like an adult and that is what all teens think they want… to be an adult, or maybe I was fascinated with the idea that this older male liked me.
This is also where I need to clear a few things up. I am, NOW, aware of the fact that Adam did not like me. Much less, love me, like you will soon learn I thought he did. I am aware that when someone loves you they want what’s best for you and what I have been through is in no way, shape, or form what’s best for me. Someone that truly loves you would never urge you to pull away from others that love you, nor would they put you into an uncomfortable position, knowingly, to get their way. With that said, my story continues…
Adam sat on the edge of my bed. I was under the covers and he was on top of them. He laid his head on my pillow and pulled my head down on his chest, his heart was beating rapidly….
This next part I am completely and utterly embarrassed to tell you, but I promised my story and that is what I am going to give. I thought at that moment that he was just as nervous as I was and my feelings were normal. His heart was beating just as fast if not faster then mine. I remember thinking to myself, “Its okay Heather, everyone’s nervous when they find someone new that they really care about.” His racing heart deleted any kind of thought that Adam may have unhonorable intentions. Now, however, I realize his heart was racing so because he did not know whether or not this little trip across the house would cost him many years of his life.
Adam fit my hand into his and told me he loved me. I rolled my eyes, but my heart fluttered.
“You don’t love me.”
“How can I not? I’ve known you your whole life, I’ve been protecting you, along side your family for years,” the words flowed from his mouth in a tone that said DUH! He continued with, “I’ve loved you for a long time and I’ve finally gotten the nerve to tell you.”
Those words still make my heart do summersaults. But, then my stomach knots up because I know I was the only one that night that believed those words to be sincere.
It’s hard for me to explain the night in detail because I have spent so much time trying to block this part of my life out, but I’ll try my best.
Somehow he was under the covers with me, cuddling and kissing on my cheeks, neck, and ears. Every touch sent feelings through my body I had never known. At this point I believed he loved me and I was safe as long as he was there. His hands were no longer wrapped around mine but slowly running up the inside of my thigh. My heart was beating fast and I pulled myself towards him. His lips touched mine softly as he whispered, “I love you.” He got up and left without another word, leaving me wondering what I did wrong.
The next morning I laid in bed long after I had woke up. I was no longer comforted and no longer afloat my “love cloud”, as I had been the night before. But, I felt dirty and horrible. I let a full grown man into my room in the middle of the night. He was probably trying to see what kind of sister he had and now he knows I am a total slut.
That was the beginning of this never ending need for his acceptance. I knew I was not a slut; you can’t be a virgin and a slut. I had never given head and wasn’t exactly sure why anyone would do that. But, I felt like I had let him down. I don’t know how to explain this feeling or tell you why I had it, but I had it. Like an endless pit in my stomach, draining my soul into it.
When I finally rolled myself out of bed I realized that I did not know how to act around him. When I walked into the kitchen, he slapped me on the back and said,”Mornin’ little sister.”
Little sister? I knew it; I knew he was testing to see what kind of sister I was. I failed his test.
Later that day I was sitting in the living room chair talking to my friend Dustin when Adam came in from outside.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Dustin”, I replied acting like it didn’t bother me that he hadn’t spoke to me all day, other then those few words that morning.
Then, he walked away. A few minutes later he dropped a piece of paper in my lap. This was just the beginning of these one sided conversations, where he got to say what he wanted and then surround himself with my family so I could neither talk or write him anything back. He used my family against me, isolated me from being able to turn to anyone, but you’ll see all that later in the story…
The note read: I think it’s pretty fucked up that my girlfriend is sitting in the room talking to some other guy instead of hanging out with me.
Instead of being upset that Adam was trying to control who I talked to, I hung up the phone. Girlfriend? So, he didn’t think of me as some horrible little sister, I was his girlfriend. This new label fascinated and scared me at the same time. But, I left all worries sitting in the chair as I got up and walked outside to join my “boyfriend” and my family.
That night, just as the night before I went to bed before anyone else. I had a lot to think about….
How had I gotten into this relationship? I didn’t answer my question then because at that moment in my life it didn’t seem to bother me. I was the girlfriend of a Marine, who loved me. Now, however I realize I was not in a relationship at all. I had no say in becoming his “girlfriend”. If only I could go back in time and slap myself and explain that everything that was happening to me was so very wrong, but I can’t…Every decision I make in life I have to live with and every decision that was made for me I have to live with, sometimes realizing that is the hardest thing of all.
Adam walked into my room that night, no text message sent. He didn’t pause at my doorway, but walked straight to my bed, closing the door behind him. He slipped underneath my comforter and wrapped both arms around me. He told me that he was sorry for getting so upset about me being on the phone with a different guy, but he didn’t want to lose me to someone who would never love me as much as he did. He laid his head on my shoulder, kissing my collarbone. My heart raced and stomach did flips. Adam rolled himself over me and onto his knees, so a knee lay next to each one of my hip bones.
He seemed so big and so powerful standing over top me, in the dark. I was so scared, so defeated. Adam began removing my clothes. First my shirt, then my boxers. I was suddenly very aware of the extra pudge I’ve always had around my middle. He kissed my stomach as his hands reached behind my back and undid my bra. I always felt self-conscience about my big boobs and bearing them before him did not help at all. He pulled down my panties and his shorts at the same time and whispered in my ear, “Will you have sex with me?”
In my head, I went, “SEX?!? Are you kidding me? “But, all that came out my mouth, in a faint whisper was, “I’m not ready.”
I will never be able to forgive myself for not putting up even a small fight for my innocence, but try to understand the power this nineteen year old adult man held over this scared, fourteen year old girl.
“Everyone’s scared their first time, you’ll be okay.” And then he spread my legs apart and let himself take so much more then my virginity. Hot tears fell down my face as I laid under this man. The pain I felt in between my legs was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Every thrust hurt like I was being split apart. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just laid there, hoping it would be over soon.
I remember thinking that I didn’t know why people would do this. I don’t know how long it went on for, but eventually Adam got up and left and I laid in bed that night and cried myself to sleep.
He never mentioned my tears or asked me if I was okay. He said only one thing during my first time, “Jesus! This is like trying to put a semi into a car garage.”
I really don’t remember much else about his visit. I know I wasn’t the same person. Actually, this is where I lost me. This is the beginning of my emptiness, of my loneliness. I always had a dream of waiting until I got married to have sex. When I told Adam of this he told me not to worry about it because we were going to get married, as soon as I got old enough. Okay, I thought, then, its fine. I began to make myself believe lies because inside my head I knew that this is not what I wanted, but I slowly began to push that little voice away.
When Adam wasn’t at my house, he was constantly calling me or text messaging me, wanting to know what I was doing or who I was with or how I was feeling. I took all of this as being concerned and in love with me, but I know see it as a control thing; he wanted to make sure that I was on a short leash and I didn’t put up a fight.
Adam came back down to my house and visited a lot, I don’t remember exactly what happened each time, but I know that it consisted of a lot of him telling me what I needed to do and sex, always sex. Sometimes, I would feel so raw on the inside and once I told him about it and he told me that, that’s what it felt like becoming a woman.
It got to where if Adam was down then he went everywhere with me. One night when I was getting ready Adam came in the bathroom and asked me where I was going.
“Football game”, I replied. Then, he started to get ready, too. I wanted to hang out with my friends without him. I asked me my mom to ask him not to go and she said, “If you don’t want him there, then tell him.” So, I walked to the other side of the house, my heart pounding through my chest, and told him my mom said we were spending too much time together and that he couldn’t go with me. I will never be able to erase the look on his face from my memory. If you could see a murderer’s facial expression right before they kill their first victim that would have been the look on Adam’s face….a look to kill.
Another visit, Adam had read my journal, where I was talking about this boy I had met at school and how he was cute. He wrote me a letter that was lying on my bed when I got home from school that day:
“It’s pretty fucked up that you act like you love me and we’re going to get married and all this, but you’re writing in your journal about how cute another boy is. Maybe you should just go be with him. I’m pretty much ready to just leave and say fuck this.”
I apologized for that. I was always apologizing. He never said he was sorry for going through my journal, never apologized for invading my privacy, but I apologized for writing that another boy was cute. At the time, I felt like I had really messed up. But, now, I can see that I was a victim. I depended on Adam in the way that he wanted me too. I bent over backwards to make sure that I didn’t make any mistakes and I answered to his endless questioning, but he was never questioned by me, I trusted him with no doubt in my mind. I was a stupid, little girl….But; the story doesn’t stop there…
A few months went by of this sickening, dictatorship relationship when I missed my period. I had never been so scared in my whole life. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run to my mom and cry in her lap and ask her what was going on. I needed someone by my side to help me, but as much as I begged and pleaded Adam to allow me to go to my parent’s and tell them everything he refused. He would say, “Sure, go tell them if you want your kid’s dad to be in prison.”
That’s what I left out- I was always being “reminded” by Adam how I couldn’t tell anyone about us because he’d go to jail for a long time. He’d tell me my parents didn’t want to see me happy and that they wouldn’t understand our love. Something I’ve learned is that if you have to lie to your family about what you’re doing, it probably isn’t right.
I didn’t notice then that he said my kid. Like, I climbed on top of myself. How I never saw that, I don’t know, or maybe I did and I just chose to ignore it, like everything else.
He even went as far as to suggest that I could say it was someone else’s kid and he would still help me, but he wouldn’t have to go to jail. This was brought up, after I refused to go get an abortion. He told me that when he came down he would buy me a pregnancy test and then I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t mention his name. When Adam came down and visited, instead of bringing a pregnancy test, he decided to bring his own method of relieving himself of this problem. As I walked out of my room one day, Adam handed me a pill and told me to take it, to get rid of “the kid”.
“What is it?”
“Its ex, just take it. You will if you really love me and don’t want our relationship or your family and I’s friendship to go down the drain.” That night I rolled all by myself. I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. My heart pounded louder then it ever had, sweat rolled off my forehead, and then I’d get the chills, I was scared, and I had horrible nightmares. I felt sick to my stomach and thought I was going to die, not that it would be a bad thing. That was my first vivid suicide thought. The next day, I was walking out of the bathroom and when I turned the corner Adam punched me in the stomach. I went on about my day, like nothing had happened…
I don’t know why he had this control over me. I didn’t realize he had it then and I don’t know how I never saw it. Everything he did seemed to be justifiable to me, no matter what my standards had been before he did it. I remember me telling him I was against something one day and then him doing it the next and it being okay. I guess it was all just me needing his approvement, but I didn’t need it then and I don’t need it now. Realizing this is making me a happier person with myself, it’s a slow process, but at least it’s finally being able to be called a process.
I never got mad at Adam for much of anything, even now, knowing that what he did was wrong and deceitful; I have a hard time building up anger towards him. However, I will never forgive him for putting drugs into my body. That was the first time I ever took drugs, not the last, but the first. Growing up, everyone expected me to do drugs, sell drugs, fight, get in trouble at school, and not do so well in the grade department, because that’s what my brothers did. The more I despised being labeled as their little sister, the more I promised myself I wouldn’t do what everyone expected just because they did. He took that from me and I will never be able to forgive him for it. Yes, I took the ex, but guilt and love were very powerful weapons in persuading me to drop my standards.
I really thought that I was different. I could never have imagined any of my friends in my position, but I was always telling myself and Adam was always telling me; that we were different, we were special. I can only imagine some girl in this same position reading this and saying to herself, “That girl was so stupid, how could she not see that all that was so horrible? If my man were to treat me like that I’d end it right there.” I can imagine that girl saying that because I said the same thing. I never saw Adam’s bad everything he did wrong could be corrected somehow in my mind; in my fourteen year old mind.
Eventually, Adam was thrown out of my house. My dad woke up one night and found us lying on the coach together at 3 a.m. He had his suspicions, but he has always been very good at not accusing anyone of anything he couldn’t prove. But, this was proof enough. My dad let both of us go to sleep and that morning I was taken to baby sit. Adam called me when I got there and told me to tell my dad that I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about Daniel. I stuck to the story that he told and my dad questioned me, but I stood my ground. My dad knew and I knew he knew, but he didn’t press it and sometimes I am very grateful for this and sometimes I’m not.
So, now you must be thinking, “Phew! It’s all over. He’s out the house and she can go on with her life.” I wish that’s what I would have done, but for whatever reason its not.

My period was very irregular, so my mom made an appointment for me to go see the “girly-doctor”. Everything seemed fine…Then, one day in school I got a phone call from the doctor’s office and I called back once school got out. I had Chlamydia, a sexually transmitted disease. I called Adam, mad and crying and he told me that it wasn’t from him because he gets checked every time he goes back to base and he’s never had anything. He asked who I had been with lately or who I was with before. Then, he told me that I needed to figure it out quick because I had to tell my parents and I couldn’t tell them it was him. He told me to them a story about how I was at a party in sixth grade and someone must have slipped something in my drink, because I couldn’t remember anything and to tell them that I gave some boy head, in case the first story didn’t go through. Anyways, that’s probably what happened.
While I knew that Adam was the only guy I had ever been with, I believed his story. I don’t know how to explain it, but that’s the kind of power he held over me. He could make me believe something about myself that I knew wasn’t true. I knew I hadn’t been to a party and I knew that I hadn’t ever gotten anything slipped into my drink, but I believed what he said and I believed it couldn’t have been from him because he loved me and would never do that to me.

I stayed away from boys, at least in a serious matter, after Adam got kicked out. One reason being, for awhile I still talked to him, that is until I found out about his other girlfriend in Georgia and he told me that it was all just a game to see if he could be the first to sleep with Dan Hill’s little sister. What’s so crazy about that is I never believed it. He said it and I thought, “He’s just mad.” That’s how stupid I was. The other being that I wasn’t too fond of relationships and love because it didn’t work out so great the first time.
When Adam and I quit talking I blamed myself. I did something wrong that made him not love me anymore. If I could have just made up a better story to tell my dad, went to sleep that night, anything to keep him around. I feared him and hated his visits, but I needed him around to survive and once he left I broke down, slowly at first and then more quickly.
I kept my guy friends around and I flirted a lot. I loved to get comments from guys, any kind of comments; I just wanted to be noticed.
Looking back, I realize that I didn’t feel beautiful and when I’d get a hoot or holler for just a half a second, just during that moment, I felt pretty. All girls just want to cover their scars and have their boo-boo’s kissed. But, my wounds were invisible, needing the most attention and getting the least. I never thought too much about me and Adam, other then it was a relationship that didn’t work out. This was my downfall because instead of dressing my wound I ignored it and the infection began.
First, there was Doug. Doug was a boy I went to school with, only a year older then me. When I met him, no one really thought he was that cute, he wore grubby clothes, and didn’t do very well in school. But, he was head over heels for me and wrapped around my finger, like I was Adam’s. I didn’t want to put Doug through pain, but I wanted him to need me, like I needed Adam, I wanted Adam’s confidence, his happiness, that I never got.
I changed Doug a lot. He started to wear preppy clothes, do his hair, and his grades came up. But, I never got what I was looking for. I was horrible to Doug, I know I was. I was moody and irritable. I complained about things that I would have never brought up to Adam and Doug tried so hard to make me happy, but I wouldn’t let him do it. In the end, after lots of fighting we broke up and Doug slept with my best friend.
I was mad at both of them for awhile and I cried, boy did I cry. But, I got over it because deep down I think I knew I had bigger issues and my tears were for different reasons.
Right before Doug and I broke up is about the time I started cutting. I had so much emotional pain that I didn’t know how to deal with it. I thought that it was because of Doug, but he was just my excuse. This is the first time I have admitted to cutting outside of Ruth Cooper. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it kept me sane and I believe it kept me from killing myself. Something about being able to turn emotional, invisible pain into physical, visible pain calmed my nerves. I was always careful to cut in places people couldn’t see. Like, I said I wasn’t proud that I did this and my group of friends definitely wouldn’t have accepted it.
Stress was extremely difficult for me to handle, especially if I couldn’t have control over it. I use to baby sit for four, undisciplined boys and they were very out of control. I would vision myself stabbing them to death or strangling them. Not just a flashing thought, but to where I could feel it in my joints, where my fingers would curl and my teeth would clench. Sometimes it was like it wasn’t even me in my body, like I was someone else.
I remember one time I was driving to school and my mom was in the passenger seat, I had my permit at the time. In the lane next to me there was a group of laughing teens and I actually visioned myself steering our vehicle into theirs and killing them. I didn’t know any of them and at the time I didn’t know why I thought that, but now I think maybe it was because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they seemed to be truly happy and I had to pretend.
A month or so after Doug and I split is around the time I got caught sneaking out of my house. I hated night time, in my room, all alone. I use to walk around outside in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I would fantasize about being picked up and raped and killed or tortured. I still haven’t figured out why anyone would toy with these ideas and not out of fear, but fascination and hope. I really didn’t care what happened to me, I didn’t want to be alive, but I didn’t have the guts to kill myself. Some nights I would smoke weed while I was walking around. I didn’t like the feeling it gave me. I always felt stupid and I’d get twitchy, but it let me forget who I was. I got to be someone else and my imagination would carry me away. Sometimes I was a homeless girl searching for food and other times I was hitchhiker, looking for a ride. Maybe I had moved to a big city, by myself because my boyfriend beat me and I was looking for somewhere to sleep. Then, I would vision some big, strong man coming and taking care of me. It didn’t matter who I was, as long as I wasn’t me.
I got caught sneaking out a few times and every time something major was taken away from me. The second time I got caught my trip to China was forgotten about. I was supposed to go as an American Student Ambassador, but that didn’t happen. Losing my trip to China was my fault, but if Adam hadn’t taken my soul the night he took my virginity I don’t think I would have been sneaking out.
School was worse then night time. My whole life was turning into a lie. I felt like an empty shell, moving from one scene to the next. I walked around school, going to class and studying hard, keeping my grades up and smiling at everyone, but inside I hated them all. Couldn’t they tell I was dieing?
Then, at home my parents were always complaining about how I spent too much time in my room, or too much time on the phone, or how I ignored them. Now, I realize that I was blaming them for my pain and it’s taken me a long time to realize I was doing this and to also realize that I was and am not mad at them.
At this point, I blamed them for grounding me and taking away all the things that made my pain disappear.
I went to Ruth Cooper and talked to a counselor because of my suicidal thoughts. I wasn’t honest with her at all and she never really tried to get any where with me. She got paid whether she tried to help me or not. Then, after my parents sat in a few sessions with me I was taken to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with clinical depression and I began to take Prozac.
This is when I started to blame my parents for making me feel like a freak show, plus grounding me and taking away the things that made my pain disappear.
I began to see another counselor. I liked her in the beginning, she did hypnosis and that really soothed me. With that, my medicine and cutting I was feeling pretty normal. Then, my brother got sick. I couldn’t take this stress and I blamed everyone for not realizing that. I was very fake during that time and, this is the hardest thing for me to admit but, I hated my brother for having a seizure. I needed this time to be normal and he was messing it all up. I forgot to take my pills a couple of times while Daniel was in the hospital, but I felt the same, so I decided I didn’t need them. Then, every time someone would mention those stupid pills, I just wanted to kill them. I wasn’t crazy, I was fine without those pills and I could handle life.
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just tell someone that I was molested. I didn’t realize that was what was wrong; I never realized I had been molested.
I talked my friend Patricia into letting me stay at her house for a night to get myself together because I felt like I couldn’t handle life. She was the only one of my friends that knew about the counselors and everything like that. She agreed and to ensure that my plans would go through I told my parents I had an overnight track meet. I don’t know why I didn’t just ask them if I could stay at Patricia’s, I guess part of me wanted to get caught. Well, obviously my plan didn’t work out and once again I was grounded and everything was taken away. This time, a trip to Washington, D.C. I was going to get to pretend to be a lawyer for a week and prepare and present my case in a real court room. I would have loved that. Well, when I say I, I really mean the me before Adam. Because the me after Adam didn’t love much of anything. My parents found out that I hadn’t been taking my medicine and put me back on it. I felt a little better, but I really played it up. I didn’t want to be a failure to them again.
Then, Chris came into the picture. He went to my school for a couple periods and was really stupid. Like, had-trouble-putting-together-words-to-form-a-sentence-stupid. He was brought up in a rough family situation and I wanted to help “save him”.
I’ve always been big on that; trying to save everyone, trying to save the world. It’s so much easier to face someone else’s fears and problems then to face your own. And if I took on enough people’s problems then I didn’t have time for mine, which was just fine with me.
My parents met Chris and of course shot down me dating an eight teen year old that couldn’t carry on a conversation with them.
This would be where I blame my parents for taking away someone that was going to make me happy.
During this time I was working at Hogbody’s and Chris use to come in and visit me. But, then he got very obsessive and one night he waited outside until I went on break and then he walked up to me and started yelling at me for not calling him back the night before. I told him that I got home from work late and went straight to bed and he kind of pushed me back and told me to stop lying to him.
This is where Travis comes in. Travis worked at Hogbody’s, too and he was always nice to me, but I’d never actually talked to him. He came out of the kitchen and started yelling at Chris for putting his hands on a female and every night since then he walked me out to my car to make sure I’d be okay. Travis was really sweet and when he’d walk me out to my car we’d always stand out there and talk for a few minutes. He gave me his number, in case I ever needed anything and we started talking at night. He had a daughter that was adorable and he’d been through a lot during his life. I knew my dad would never go for this tattooed and pierced nineteen year old, but Travis’ intentions seemed good to me. We went out to eat a couple times together and the last time is when my parent’s caught me with him.
I was grounded and yelled at and everything was taken away. Again, I blamed my parents for ruining my life.
I was overcome with depression and I was trying to be this perfect, happy teenager, but deep down I was miserable. Something that I’ve learned is happiness can’t be faked for very long. I thought of a plan to make me happy.
I decided that I would emancipate myself and move in with Travis and his roommate, Ronnie, because the other person that was living with them just moved out. My bills would all be split in three so I could afford it. That’s what would make me happy, being on my own and making my own decisions…
In reality, I think I wanted to move because I was searching for something or someone to make me happy instead of looking deep down and finding the source of my unhappiness. I wanted to push away people that said they loved me because I felt as though everyone was really out to hurt me and they said wonderful things about you to gain your trust. Adam had turned me against my family and I couldn’t handle seeing them hurting so much. Hurting the way I hurt when Adam had that “love power” over me. My family stuck by me no matter what I did because they loved me so much and that’s what I did with Adam, I stuck by him. Finally, I was ready for life to be done with and growing up and moving out were the next steps. I just wanted to get over with everything as soon as I could.
I talked to Ronnie and he agreed to let me move in whenever I wanted to and that day after school I told my mom I wanted to be emancipated. Immediately she started crying and refused to sign any papers to give me legal custody over myself. She told me I could ask my dad, but she wouldn’t do it. My dad shot down the idea as well. I begged him to just let me try it and if I fell flat on my face, then it was my own fault, not his. He said family didn’t let family fail. He made me call and quit at Hogbody’s and told me that if I didn’t want to be at home then I could go live with the county.
This is where I blamed my parents for my unhappiness.
As I sat in the bathroom with a safety pin and dug into my upper thigh, the tears began to cease. My breathing slowed and calmness came over me, but every time I took the pin away from my leg the emotions rose through my body, uncontrollably and I knew that this was not the way life was suppose to be. If you were suppose to cut yourself to deal with life, then they would teach you that when you were younger and I decided I needed help and I was ready to get help. I asked my parents to take me to a crisis center.
Arriving at Ruth Cooper I talked to many people and filled out many papers and the decision was made, after several hours, to admit me into the children’s section of the crisis center. My dad left me there once that was decided and with him I left all my jewelry, my hair tie and my shield. I promised myself to figure out my problem. Understand that I had made this promise before, but never to myself. I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew I needed to change and that is the only time anyone can change, when they’re ready and willing.
I sat in a white room with a glass door for hours and no one said much of anything to me, other then when the nurse brought me my pajamas. Finally, a lady came in and asked me a lot of questions, gave me juice and crackers and took me over to the children’s section. It was about 11:30, past the bed time there. One of the guys in charge brought me food and went over the rules with me and I signed more papers. Then, I went to my assigned room for bed.
There was a girl there and she was Baker Acted, which is where the police bring you in involuntary. Her parents said that she was suicidal and she had been there almost 3 days. She was very nice and I told her that I cut, but I didn’t mention my suicidal thoughts. The next morning I met the other kids there; I was the only voluntary one. Everyone wanted to know why you were there and in the morning we had what they call “group”. Kevin was our nurse and he ran “group”. When my turn came to introduce myself I told everyone my name and that I was a cutter. He asked about the boys and I told everyone about my emancipation story.
That place really gives you a lot of time to think about you and what you need to do to move on and what it is that you need to move on from. It’s like a completely different world. Kevin called me up to the nurse’s station and told me that the only reason teenage girls cut is because they were raped or molested and tears instantly began to pour from my eyes, I didn’t know why.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but when you talk to the doctor, tell him because you don’t want to be in the adult section with what looks like railroad tracks on your arm. You’re beautiful and you’re putting your inside uglies on the outside.”
When I talked to Dr. Falcone that day he asked me if I had ever been abused, sexually, physically, emotionally, or psychologically and I said no to all of them. Then, the story about Adam just tumbled out. It wasn’t even me talking because I had never told anyone the things I told this man I didn’t know.
He asked me if I fought back and I told him I didn’t and he said, “Its still rape. You were psychologically raped for 7 ½ months.”
Do you have any idea what it’s like to be told that you’ve been raped for 7 ½ months by someone that you love? That sentence still kills me to hear to this day, to even think about.
Raped for seven and a half months.
What do you say to that? How do you respond? Well, I cried and cried…and cried. I asked him if he would help me tell my parents because I couldn’t do it on my own and after much discussion we both agreed to tell them that night when they came during visiting hours.
“If an adult sends a five year old into a candy store and tells them to grab as much candy as they can and run out and they do it; who’s at fault, the adult or the child?”
Dr. Falcone used this as a comparison for the situation I was in with Adam. Adam was the trusted adult and I the naive child. I stayed at Ruth Cooper that night, which was good because the world was a place I was not ready to face. That night I blamed my parents again and this one hurt the most.
I blamed them for putting me through Adam. They knew the whole time and they never stopped it. I blamed them for my cutting and my pain; I blamed them for everything that didn’t go right since Adam. I blamed them for my horrible relationships. I blamed them for my wound and then my infection. But, then I cried because I did not hate them, I hated myself and my fear of losing them without notice took me over so much that I began to push them away. The way I lost Adam without notice. I loved him, an honest true love and he went away; and that tore me apart.
Part of my healing process has been to accept the fact the Adam did not love me and I have. But, I loved him, truly and sincerely loved him. I still don’t hate Adam, I don’t think I ever will, but I am mad at him for putting me through this and I’m mad at myself for allowing it.
When I was very little my dad told me, “The first time, it’s his fault; the second time, it’s your fault; the third time, its pleasure” and, “There are two kinds of woman: the ones that stand on their own two feet and victims.”
I always promised myself I wouldn’t be a victim, but I was, so now I promise myself it won’t ever be my fault. He may have got me, but I’m ready to fight for myself because I’m not a fourteen year old, unsuspecting, little girl anymore; I am a survivor.
My dad pressed charges against Adam immediately and I had to make a statement with a Children’s Advocacy Center, at that point I didn’t tell my story for myself, but for the next girl that was going to be taken advantage of.
I went and saw my counselor, which was a complete mess and I ended up making the decision to leave her. She tried to convince my mom that I did not want them pressing charges and at that point I didn’t know what I wanted. It’s hard to go from a secluded environment, Ruth Cooper, to the real world after just telling not only your family and counselors a secret you had never told anyone, but telling yourself. During that time I felt split in half, one side of me wanted Adam to go through all the pain I’d went through times a million and the other side of me wanted everything to be dropped. But, I wanted to feel whole and when you have your parents telling you the importance of pressing charges against this man and your counselor urging them to drop the case, instead of feeling like you were slowly pulling yourself together you feel more torn and that was the last thing I needed.
I currently am seeing a counselor at the Children’s Advocacy Center and so far I like her. I think she’s going to help me to be at peace with my past, not to forget about it because something like this doesn’t stay locked in the closet for very long; as I learned the hard way.
I’m nervous about what’s going to happen to Adam. I’m scared of the things he’ll say about me because deep down I’m still striving for his approval and I’m scared what his family with think and say. I’m very nervous to face him in court, if it comes to that and I feel guilty about going through these steps to take away part of his life. And while I feel guilty more then anything every now and then I remember what he took from me. He took my innocence, my purity, my morale, my goals, my honesty, my happiness, my childhood, my rights, my freedom, and my sanity. While, I can’t get the past two years back and I can’t get what he stole back I can take charge of my life and be the girl I pretended to be, but this time I won’t be pretending.
She smiled a little smile as her mom came in to wake her up for the day. She pulled back that famous all white down comforter and slid her feet onto the carpet. As she got ready for the day she read the messages she had wrote to herself on her mirror to remind her that she was a fighter. She didn’t feel like putting her make-up on, or wearing those suffocating jeans, so instead she slipped into some comfy pants and threw on her Crocs. Maybe tomorrow she’d get dressed up.
She walked out into the living room and sat down on the couch next to her mom. As she laid her head on her mom’s shoulder a tear ran down her cheek and they hugged each other because the both knew everything wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. She gave her dad a kiss and a hug as he left for work and thanked God for giving her a dad that could be so firm, but so gentle at all the right moments.
Her and her mom sat together on the couch for a little longer and she knew that no matter what she went through, easy or hard, she was no longer alone and she was glad that her mom was the soldier fighting next to her because she was the toughest soldier of them all.
As she walked out of her front door, no cell phone in hand, she smiled; she wasn’t facing the world because she had to, but because she wanted to…

So, that’s it, that’s my story. I’m not proud of everything I’ve done in my life, but I wouldn’t erase any of it. I am who I am today because of what happened to me yesterday and for the first time in my whole life I feel comfortable with myself. I know that I did a lot of wrong things and I made a lot of bad decisions that I’m prepared to live with, but I also now that I’m only sixteen. I have my whole life ahead of me and I’ll be darn if some creep is going to ruin my whole life. He took so much away from me and I let him control my life for two years, but no more. It’s my life and I don’t think he deserves to be in control of it.
I could never stress enough that I truly felt like I loved Adam and he loved me back. And that is an amazing feeling. To feel something you’ve never felt before. I had a lot of good times with Adam, but I shouldn’t have had so many bad time and I wasn’t ready for the situation he put me in. When you’re fourteen and you think you’ve found the man of your dreams you don’t think right and he knew it. I honestly feel like I was taken advantage of, even though I knew right from wrong, he used love to cloud my common sense. That’s something that I’ve learned…love is the most powerful weapon anyone can have.
If you are going through what I went through, tell someone. No one thinks that there’s anything wrong with you. Eventaully the monkey on your back gets to heavy to hold and you have to tell someone. The sooner you tell someone the faster you can recover your heart and soul. I could have made better decisions and I’m hoping that me telling my story helps a girl speak up. Even if it’s just one girl, that’s good enough.
“Every 18 minutes a teen gets raped.”
Parents’ rules suck. Plain and simple. Every teen wished their parents’ rules were different, whether it be to be allowed to go to the party, wear whatever clothes you want, or be allowed to sit in your living room. Every teen wishes their home life was different- either they want parents’ that would get out of their business, parents that pay attention to them, and some just want parents. I thought my parents’ rules sucked- I still do. But, I’m not the only one. I’m okay with rules now, unlike before. I use to despise rules, but I’m beginning to understand why we have them and while some I’m still convinced are to torture us, others I know are to keep us safe. Parents only have 18 years to mold us into something that we’re going to be proud of when we’re 80. For a long time I believed that however I turned out, good or bad, would be because of me and while that’s true to an extent, it’s not completely accurate. Everyone knows that if you’re successful you think you’re parents for sticking by you through all the tough spots and if you fail in life you blame them for not guiding you the “correct way”. My parents are amazing. They took me from a baby, where all I did was eat (if THEY fed me), peed on myself, and pooped on myself to what I am now. I’m sure that I would be a lot better had I listened to all their rules, but I didn’t and I’m sure that I’ll mess up a few more times, I’m still going to argue for a later curfew, and I’m still going to get mad when things don’t go my way, but I’m okay with that. I have a crew that has my back not matter what goes down. And since I’m not sure if all the parents reading this are going to get that, what I’m trying to say is Thanks.