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My horrible life story. My mum was a prostitute

As far as I know, before I was born, my birth mother had two children in two different states before having me. She moved again and met my father there, having abandoned her second child (a son) and taking her first born daughter with her.
I was told my mother grew up in a troubled home, she was apparently molested by my grandmother’s husband, and thrown into a foster home after becoming a problem. My grandmother chose my uncle over my mother, and therefore my mother went from foster home to foster home. And, she led herself through a path of destruction, prostitution and filth.
My father grew up poor, him and his two sisters. My grandma was married to all three’s father then, and it turned out my grandfather was abusive, coming home from a war really messed him up. My grandfather had violent fits of rage, remembering his past and would take it out on his family. After that, my grandmother left him and married another man. My father has a different story in his head than what everyone else does. I do know, my father and his older sister got into fights with others at school often, and did drugs as well as drink. My father soon got into weed, cocaine, mushrooms, acid, cig’s and alcohol at a young age. He dropped out of high school, joined the military, and never disclosed to me why he left. He was never in battle, but I suppose dropped out of it. His family didn’t care to help him, and he spent his days doing drugs, living off of sandwiches and so on, he was very promiscuous, much like my mother, and when he met her, that is when I started. Obviously.
They got together because of who know’s why.. Mother tells me that my father claimed he was sterile, but lied. My father then told me that my mother forced him into marriage, and threatened that I would be taken away from him if he didn’t follow her terms. So, he complied, and they married before I was born.
My mother drank and smoked with me, and possibly other drugs. I was born 2 months early, at only 4 pounds and was weak in the lungs. More than a week in an incubator soon brought me to a healthy size, and I was good to go home. I almost wish the nurses never let me go with them.
When I was taken home, my father wanted nothing to do with me. He would leave me unattended in my high chair in front of the television with food in my mouth while he gamed, he drank constantly and smoked near me and blew smoke in my face all the time and as a newborn would leave me on the couch once again, unattended.
But he didn’t care, as long as he could play, drink hard liquor, do drugs and hang with his buddies. I used to have a cat, but he killed it by getting it high. He convinced my mom to do Cocaine while I was a baby, and he was cheating on her with a stripper while she cheated on him with some guy she met a Bass Pro.
From what I understand, my parent’s were obviously very poor, as a result of their poor choices in life. Often, when I was left unattended and uncared for, my grandmother and aunt stepped in to care for me and my older sister, who was dragged along with my mother into this odd family.
Their marriage didn’t last long, only until I was about 6 months old. Where my mother left me in an empty house, waiting for my dad to take me so she could leave with my older sister and my mom’s new plaything. My father had his stripper, my mom had her plaything, and me and my older sister were torn from each other. I was told that while belongings were being sorted, police were called (as usual) and my mother left us with nothing but a blood soaked mattress, a few dishes, a few toys for me and that was all. I would not meet my mother until several years later.
My father, was not fit to be a father, but I was left in his care when not with my grandmother or aunt, and I distantly remember many women he brought home while I was left in my bedroom. It also came to light that I may have a sister I have never met, do to a one night stand. I still haven’t met her, nor do I want to.
As I stayed with him, he would buy my love and affection, and molest me when no one was around. I don’t remember much of it, only bit’s and piece’s to this day, but I still have that feeling, that disgust and nausea overwhelm me when I look at him to this day. I was told by many people through the years, that they noticed I did have an odd relationship with my father. And with me being a child, I did not understand. I had no mother to guide me, or protect me, and no real father to look up to.
I do remember, before the age of 4, I saw many kids with a mother and father. They would show up to my daycare, or in parks or swim in the pool I lived across the street from. Despite everything, I do miss some things I had with my dad. Normal, father daughter things. Like him reading a book while I went swimming, or him throwing me a football. Or watching scary movies with him and watching him play his mmorpg games, and even showing me how to play. Hell, even him wanting me to grab him a beer. Him buying me ice cream when the ice cream man came. I was so used to this odd life, me and no one else saw anything wrong. But, that all changed.
My mother came back into my life at the age of 4, well.. Officially came back for a while. At that time, my father met my soon to be stepmother… A crazy, bipolar woman who was jealous and wanted to get rid of me to have my dad all to herself. She would mistreat me, beat me and yell at me all the time. My dad started drinking more heavily and would grab me by the neck and fling me across the room and beat me up if I disobeyed him. My grandmother would notice this, and I do remember the concerns and DFS being called throughout my childhood. I will say, DFS obviously did nothing to help.
My mother told me when I was younger I wouldn’t play with any kids, I was reserved and was afraid to get yelled at for playing. I was like this a majority of the time, I was also not allowed to get out of bed at my fathers, so I would fall asleep and wet the bed as a child during nightmares. Since I was left alone, that sparked my slight fear of storms. I was left alone during storms, and my stepmother, knowing this would send me out and I believe a few times, the door was locked and I couldn’t get in. My mother did the same, thinking it was funny.
I remember a particular time, when my memories of my mother sparked. Her husband at the time, hated me. As did his two daughters. One time I remember I had asked to be excused from the table.. Let’s just say he grabbed a wooden spoon and hit me with it, and said “sit the f*ck down and eat your ***damn food.” and I thought that was okay. So I sat down, and ate my food.
My mother claims she doesn’t know this part. But that was because she was doing whatever I suppose.. Working, embezzling money and so on. Jeff got worse with this punishments, and his two daughters would get me and my older sister into trouble for the dumbest things. I remember the youngest, threw our dogs down the stairs, and.. I honestly hate to admit this part. But, she would touch me, lick my private areas and would grab me. She would lick my behind, and I kept silent, because that was what I was trained to do. To this day, I loathe that memory, and still have trouble dealing with it.
This continued on, and when I started kindergarten, things didn’t get any easier. My father agreed to joint custody with my mother, and I was with her for a few days to a few weeks, and with my father for around the same amount of time, until my mother tried hiding me from my father and keeping me longer. At school, I didn’t make friends, except for a neighbor. I remember I didn’t really talk to anyone, and got beat up a lot. I didn’t fight back usually, not until I hit 2nd grade.
The years melded together, and I would have nightmares since I can remember. One particularly bad one, I thought was real.. But it must have been a dream. I woke up from a dream, to see a boy who looked just like me, but with white skin and black hair and red eyes. He smiled, his teeth were sharp.. He grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me down my bed. I remember screaming as the girl version of me, that looked like him, stood in the corner, grinning. I was so scared, I shot out of bed and pounded on the door screaming “Help me, they’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me” and my mother came in after a few minutes, shoved me to the ground and said “Go the f*ck to bed” before locking the door on me. Little did I know, these things were sparked by psychological trauma, I created these ‘people’ to cope with my childhood before losing my memories officially, which weren’t regained until the age of 14.
I remember I would see others all the time. The little mixed girl with pigtails who danced down the hall every morning, the scary man in the basement behind the fish tank.. Then the boy. It was at school during the day this time. I was walking down the hall (I was in kindergarten) and I look over to see a door in the middle of the hall, it wasn’t there before but.. He was my age, maybe older. About 7 to 9 maybe. He wore brown khakis, black sneakers and a striped collared shirt. I remember it so vividly to this day. The shirt was red and yellow. He had short brown hair, and completely black eyes. He stared at me as I stared at him through this doorway. Then, he looked away slowly and walked out of sight. Then, he came back, but still walking in the same direction, it was like replaying it over and over again, this boy walking into view and out. Then, there was a line of them, just walking like that over and over. They all turned to look at me, and smiled. Their teeth were sharp and jagged as they snickered. It didn’t scare me, I just tilted my head and thought “weird” before going about my day walking down the hall.

I started drawing the people I saw. No one liked me, calling me Skeleton, Ghost Girl, Freak and so on because I was a skinny, pale girl covered in bruises that hid behind her hair and looked like she never slept. I remember lying on the concrete sidewalk, drawing a little girl with her head chopped off, waving at me. A girl walked up and stepped on the picture and said “what’s that?” and I said “dead people. Don’t you see them too?” and she said “ew, you’re such a freak. Get away from me” and kicked dirt in my face.

But, back then I used to curl up and take the beating (until I grew a pair later that year) but for that time being I just curled up and stayed quiet because the teachers hated me anyways. Alright, so now, at 7 years old, I found out I had a brother I was never told about. I never knew why no one told me, but I was suuuuper excited to meet him. Little did I know my mom left him behind for a reason.

On top of being beaten and starved at my dads, being abused and bullied and semi-starved at my moms and being bullied at school, my brother at the age of 10-11 comes along and lives with us simply because his dad threw him away to my mom because the boy was an absolute terror. Mom.. Well.. fuck that word. Lets say she did not want him, but being a mom.. she took him in. We lived in a two story house, because mom was stealing money and Jeff was a successful guy in the hunting and fishing business.

Shane was in the basement, I was in one room with Reagan. While my sister Lauran was in a room with the other girl, Rachel. Me and Shane hung out often, like most siblings do.. That is until he started beating me up too. He would handcuff me to the coffee table for hours, wouldn’t give me food or water all while mom wasn’t home.

He would push me down the stairs or lock me in dog crates or lock me in closets and try to scare the shit outta me. Lets say it worked. He would take me into the woods and make sure I got hurt on purpose. Like making stuff look like an accident. I got hurt often, but was such a silent kid I didnt say anything.

At my dads, my stepmom continued to not pay for clothes I needed, underfed me and all that, I would get yelled at for the dumbest things. One day, I was in the garage with my older cousin Jordan. I was eating candy and she slapped me in the head multiple times. Well.. I started choking.
I flipped out while my cousin was laughing at me, I ran inside and vomited all over the floor and started crying. Amber sat on the couch, drinking a glass of wine and looks at me, having witnessed me choking and said “clean it up bitch” and ignored me. That wasn’t fun. At my moms, there wasn’t much food. Anywaaays, so one day my brother says “come to the basement, I want to play a game” and me being a dumbass child, I believed him.

I went to the basement and it was dark. I was kinda confused but called for him and walked into the room. I remember him grabbing me by the hair, ripping my clothes off and pushed my face to the carpet and raped me. I was used to my dad beating me and molesting me, so I cried, but didnt say anything. He got up when he was done, kicked me and I got up and ran to my room for a while. After that, stuff got blurry. Because then, my moms husband at the time would pick me up from school, and would touch me while I was in the passenger side of his truck. I didnt say anything about that either. And when my mom wasnt around, he one time grabbed me by the neck, basically tried choking me out and threw me to the floor saying “you disgust me” and just left me there. And to add on, at the age of 5 was when I remember seeing things and feeling things the earliest. It all started to make sense, slowly.

Insanus and Delerio were there to torment me ever night, but I eventually broke and talked to them. They watched over me and they told me what hell was like, and that they were sent here to protect me. I didn’t really grasp what they meant by protecting. But I had no friends, no one to turn to, nowhere to run. So, them and the dead people were my only friends.

I showed signs of odd stuff all my life, but memories of those things at night, I remember them all the way back to the age of five. But, I just didnt mention anything in fear of being beaten up and told to shut up. At school, I got bullied, had no friends and would sit alone on the swings every day. No one liked me, and called me ‘Skeleton’ and ‘Ghost girl’ and I just shrugged it off. My brother would rape me every night, and I was a little baby enough to follow his orders and go to his room every night, because while mom wasn’t home during the day, he threatened to kill me and would put knives to my throat and hit me.

Also pulled crap like throwing rocks and glass at me. Eventually at age 8 I believe.. Or 9. Mom divorced her husband and we moved out to a little duplex. There, stuff got even worse. Mom, being a single parent worked harder than ever at bars and would leave us from 9 in the morning to 3 in the morning sometimes. My older sister was getting depressed and sneaking out to go have sex and drink and do drugs, leaving me with my brother a lot. He toned down on the assault a bit, till he met two boys. keep in mind he was 13-14 around this time. He met greg. a 16 year old and zach, a 12 year old.

During the day, while my sister was lazying about or somewhere on the streets, my brother dragged me along to go break into houses and stuff and dig around for what food and games we could find. He met greg and zach because they lived behind us…

One day, they took me to an abandoned shed in the woods where they would look at porn magazines and get ideas. They would have me stand against the wall, and would hit me with sticks and anything they knew would hurt. They would molest me one at a time and would hold a knife to my throat and said if I screamed I was dead. One phrase I can’t handle now is “Just take it, shut up and take it” I flip out if I hear that. I know that they, and other’s throughout my life treated me terribly, and would put cigarettes out on my skin. But, I can’t even recall the first time..

So, one day I got so sick of the pain, so sick of bleeding and feeling nothing but pain and misery I stood up to them and.. I dunno. Something just snapped. Whether it was being bullied at school, my stepmother hounding my ass and verbally/mentally/emotionally abusing me. My dad physically and sexually abusing me, i dunno. I fought back, and they didn’t like that. So, turns out I got held down and it got much worse.

So, I was an idiot on that part. My mom noticed the bruises, and how one time I got really sick because the conditions of that shed were not the best. I had an allergy to mice and rats and my mom flipped shit on my brother. I was her baby, despite her never being around. Or so I thought.. She bought my clothes when my dad wouldnt, I even have a picture of us sitting in a diner. I would never smile, except when I was with my mama. I just didnt tell her the things that were happening to me because i didnt exactly know they were wrong..

I thought all kids my age were treated like this. And I was afraid of making her sad. I saw how many men she brought home, how much money she would steal from them then kick them to the curb just so we could get by. She stole money from places she worked, just to get us stuff. And, thats just the way it was. At my dads, All my stuff was shoved in a tiny little room and I was only there to take care of my new little sister.

My stepmom lied to my dad and stopped taking birth control simply to get pregnant and keep my dad tied to her through the kid. My dad told me he wished that amber had an abortion. he didnt want the baby. And he would get drunk and beat me for all his problems. I hated my sister at first. I blamed her for having to suffer everyday at my fathers. I was so mean as a child to her, but.. I slowly began to melt for her and treated her as my own daughter.

at age 8 i was to babysit 6 children at a time, and my stepmom got all the money and everything, I was just the little rat under the stairs as she called me. She called me ‘Spawn of Satan’ because of the things I saw, the things I could do. I could just stare at that weak minded, fat ass whore and would glare at her. I would send her all my fucking hatred and she would start screaming, grabbed scissors and started hacking at her hair and started beating at her head with her hands. She’d scream about bugs being in her hair because of me. I do remember my mom moved around hotels for a few years, after I turned 8 I believe. I did get lice often, but it would be treated within a day, my stepmom was always paranoid, and it was easy to get in her head to make her stop hurting me.

I started listening to the voices in my head, and started listening to the things I saw at night. Because I had no one and nothing else to turn to. By age 11, I had two sisters, my brother continued raping me no matter where we moved. I remember we moved to another house up the road, wait.. yeah we were left at my grandfathers while mama was out. My sister ran away from home at the last house, ran to her dad in indiana.
Because she started cutting herself and doing heavy drugs. She hated the life we had. She couldnt deal with it. And…

She promised she would be with me till the end.. But I remember standing in the hall, watching my mom throw my sisters suitcases out the door, smashing a bottle of her lotion and started yelling… I asked my mama what was going on.. Mom, she was crying, and looked at me to say “your sissy doesnt love us anymore” and that was that. I remember being so heart broken. Because she was the only thing remotely protecting me from shane.

I would sit in the living room crying till 3 in the morning, waiting for my mama to come home and just HOPING that shane was not awake. that he wouldnt wake up till mom was home. He lit me on fire, pelted me in the head with rocks, tried to hold me underwater, shot me in the temple at close range with an air soft gun, would get into motorcross crashes and stuff with me and one time, the motorcycle landed on top of me.Same with power scooters and other things we raced on.

He stood and watched me with glee as I struggled under the vehicle and begged for help. He pushed me out of trees at 20-25 feet and would just try everything in his power to kill me. None of it worked… When we moved to my grandpas while mom worked, he would have to sleep next to me in the basement and I was so scared. At night, when I fell into an uneasy sleep he would take my clothes off, get ontop of me and rape me in my sleep.

I would wake up to excruciating pain and start crying. He would slap me and put his hand over my mouth and nose to try and suffocate me. He said it felt better when I bled and squirmed. I remembered even after all those years, I couldnt bear to look at myself in the shower. I couldnt at all. My mom then got into a fight with my grandpa over stupid shit and we moved to yet another house. This one was in the middle of the woods and haunted by a mean old lady who would watch me from under the kitchen table when I got food and snuck it into my room, at this point my mom knew the things I could see, and then how I started to develop seeing colors around people..

At that time I had puppies, but slowly theyd go missing or just.. die. i guess. I was put in the basement, and shane was causing problems for mom and she would beat him up sometimes when she was mad at him. My mom was being beaten by her boyfriend. And Shane knew. Tony would give shane drugs and booze to keep him quiet. Me and shane were placed in the basement. I was without a proper blanket and all I had was a tiny twin sized mattress, a couch blanket and a tiny plastic bin for my clothes.

My brother had a futon, his gaming systems and the same dresser thingie. He would try to touch me and everything while we slept down there. But I would wait till he left and lock my door so I could sleep in peace without.. that. again. Every time I went out to explore he came with me. It was so stupid. I would run off when mom fought with Tony. I would take my dog and my stuff and run into the woods to hide out for days.
Most of the time shane followed. he was such an asshole. He would grab fist sized rocks and throw them at my head, and I remember one time I got so depressed, while he wasnt around.. I snuck out at midnight and went to an old bridge that was over a river.. People never used it, and there were metal and concrete pieces at the bottom. I threw myself off that bridge, hoping I would hit the rock slabs and break my neck, or crack my head open and drown.

It didnt work and I remember coming up for air and screaming in anger as loud as I could. I think that was the night I stopped praying to God. I stopped believing that he would save me. And I just.. went about my daily life. So, at age 11.. My dad had started a few years before trying to break me mentally and reform my mind to what he wanted.. Or, brainwashing.

He would tell me when i was like 9 up to 11 “Erika, your mom is coming to pick you up to take you to the park” and I was sooooo excited. But.. Little did I know he never called her. I sat in front of that window, watching my driveway for hours. at the 6 hour mark I started bawling and thought she forgot about me. He did stupid shit like this and eventually.. My mind just went out the back door and I started losing my memories.

At age 11 almost 12, my dad knew I was ready. He would call the cops on my mom and would say she was trying to kidnap me, and the cops would have to drag me into their car and drive me home a lot, strengthening his hold on me. I remember my last memory of my moms house… My brother hit a rock with a stick and it struck me in the head. I remember losing my eyesight for a moment and bending over clutching my head.

I kept saying “calm down erika, youre fine. youre fine.” until i saw the blood dripping onto the ground, slipping between my fingers. I started screaming and crying. I never bled like that before. and.. I mean it hurt so much.. But seeing the blood scared me the most. I was already into self harm and beating myself at the age of 7 as punishments. but.. This much blood.. I didnt inflict it myself so somehow it wasnt okay.

Mom came home and cleaned me up. Then a few weeks later.. My mom got in a huge fight with her boyfriend. well.. I was watching the movie Coraline. It was when that movie came out. I suddenly hear from the bedroom “dont fucking touch me you son of a bitch!” and my mom walks out of the room, her face streaked with tears and I remember making eye contact with her, holding the white and blue polar bear (that my dead grandmother gave to me) stuffie close and scared as Tony flanked her to the bathroom.

It was all over a ring.. My mom put Tony’s engagement ring on the sink to wash her hands and left it there.. He was beating her over that. I suddenly hear a yelp and a slam. He pushed her into the shower and she hit her head and elbow and was pretty shaken up. Tony stepped out and I was so mad… I stood up and started screaming at him. I said “get out of the house you fucking monster! get out! you dont belong here anymore! leave my mom alone!” and he looked at me, my mom was watching, and he said “my girls and telling me to get out of my own house..” but he packed his stuff and left.
shortly after my brother caused ultimate shit and finally ran away to his dad in colorado. But… Then me and my mom had a big blow up. My most recent puppy.. My jack russell terrier.. He was my best friend.. And he was the only one who didnt disappear and or die. Well… Me and mom moved back to my grandpas place and his big mean dog attacked mine. My puppy had several broken ribs and a punctured organ.. He was in so much pain I kept cryin and I told mama to fix him. She took him to the vet.. But she couldnt afford the vet bill.. So they took my puppy away. My mom then poisoned that big dog. or either put glass in his food to kill him. She then got back together with tony and I got so angry.

My dad sparked a huge argument between me and mama. I told mama I never wanted to see her again, and she said okay and left. and you know about the fights. those went on still. my stepmom started choking me, throwing things at me, puttin cleaning supplies in my food and starve me sometimes but had me take care of her daughters while she slept. My father still made sexual advances on me, a lot.

And tried sleeping in my bed and would touch me, but I would leave once he fell asleep and sleep on the floor in the living room. I ran away once that year September 25th 2011. I was super sick for a few days.. And I didnt have my own doctor registered, or even a dentist. So my stepmom finally caved in to get me to shut up and took me to a walk in clinic. she said to me “if this is just allergies, youre fucking dead” and I was just praying to whatever being was out there, that it wasnt allergies.

Turns out, of course they were fuckin allergies. just my luck. I mean this fat bitch beat me up, called me a nasty little whore, called me an ugly brat, said i was the spawn of satan, that I was an adopted little piece of shit, that I deserved to die. Make me cry on my birthdays for years, on purpose. and noooow I had fuckin allergies and it was apparently my fault. when we got home. she made me stand in the dining room, in the same spot and look her in the eyes for two hours straight while she yelled at me.

I was not to move, or break eye contact, or even speak unless spoken to. But, when she asked me questions i didnt even speak. She got mad at me being so stubborn, and she went downstairs to grab my stuffed animals and dolls I loved.. She made me watch as she ripped them apart.. I didnt move, and it hurt.. But i just watched. she grabbed my art and journals that she collected every time she raided my room (daily while I was at school) and ripped it all up. she said to me “im gonna take all your books, your art and everything you hold dear.

and Im gonna burn it! im gonna make you set fire to everything you love.. and you can watch it turn to ash. the stuff you cant burn will be given to the dogs to chew on” and she said “you look at me, and you look at me real damn good little girl. you answer my question in 3 seconds or im gonna go downstairs and bring up more of your shit” and still, I stared at her and didnt answer. She counted to 3 and walked downstairs. Thats when I ran. I ran to the garage, opened it and ran outside at 6 o’clock in nothing but thin, ripped up sweatpants and a t-shirt.

I was barefoot running down gravel roads, across the highway and eventually I started crying from the cold and I hugged myself and didnt stop walking. My head hurt so much, I felt so sick and everything just went black. I ran across two towns, and a lady found me nearly passed out on the side of the road with a 102 fever. She wouldnt listen to me.

I kept saying “dont take me home. dont take me home” my feet were bloody, my head hurt and i was bawling and kept saying “whatever you do just please do not take me home” but she did anyways… And thats when I was thrown to my grandmothers. At age 14, I started cutting majorly, and got into some real bad shit. My mom got arrested for stealing money, and I saw her on the news. I was drinking heavily, smoking and numb to everything. I felt like a worthless piece of shit. A misfit of God. One of his mistakes.

And.. I just wanted my life to end. I one night, got on my computer and got on a rp website, it was going to be my last night on there because i stole some of gma’s pills. and was gonna take them after doing something I loved very much. I started roleplaying at the age of 12, it was an escape from my life. It was an addiction and I couldnt help but want to escape to the place where I could be whoever I wanted to be. No one knew me, and that was okay. And, that night, I held the bottle in my hand and was about to log off when someone noticed me.

Long story short, my first bf. he convinced me not to kill myself, and he stayed up with me all night talking me out of suicide. So.. we dated for 3 years. he was nice during the first one. but turned into an abusive jerk by the end. he would say I didnt want to have sex with him through text enough. he said i wasnt good enough. said i wasnt showing him enough of my body and that i needed to be pretty. I broke up with him in January of 2015. So, bumpy up and downs from age 13-15. my father and stepmother continues to bully, harass, and abuse me.

he would put me in choke holds and try to choke me out and would grab me in that area and squeeze and try hurting me. he would rub my inner thigh, or slap and grope my ass. by age 12 i had started my period and started growing breasts. by age 15 i had size 32 C’s and he liked that. He would try walking in while I showered. and would try sleeping in bed with me. he would hug me and squeeze me against his chest to feel my boobs. he would kiss my neck and try ‘tickling’ me by grabbing my inner thigh.

One night, I was lying on my belly on the computer. He walked in my room and slapped me on the ass really hard. I jumped up and flipped out. I yelled “dont you dare fucking touch me again!” and I saw his colors burst in flashes or red, red, red. He was about to grab me, yelling “im your father. i raised you. i can do whatever the fuck i want to you.’ and my anger issues started to skyrocket. I cut more, I beat myself more, I would punch walls and beat my head against the doors sometimes.

I would sit in the shower for an hour and just lay there in the dark, wishing my life would just end already. by age 16.. I ran to my grandmother again for the third time. I pierced my lip, started wearing the clothes I wanted to wear. and I was.. happy. Though, my grandpa would get drunk and say “arm hair? youre fucking disgusting for not shaving your arm hair.
“You think I would hire a girl with hair on her arms? fuck. no. GIrls are supposed to be beautiful. like these magazines. not ugly and hairy like you.” and i looked at him and said “grandpa. you are a selfish, shallow alcoholic who is sad enough to watch chick flicks on netflix because you cant fuck grandma” he got pissed, and charged me. I ran to my room, and I wouldnt come out for days. Gma was always working overnights, and was fed. Gpa wouldnt cook, wouldnt shop, and ate before coming home..

So I was left to starve. again. and had to run to my cousins house during 100 degree heat, or -10 degree winters, just to fill my belly to get me by for two days. and I worked my ass off training the horses, i ignored my bullying cousins and just.. Went about my fucking horrible and miserable life. Then, on easter.. I contacted my mother for the first time in 5 years. Through facebook. She was out of federal prison by that time, and met my stepdad in federal prison as well, so they were together.

I told her all the was happening, and with my amnesia slowly fading away with years of constant music and photos. I trusted her again. I confided in her and told her everything I had to deal with.. I told her about the second time I ran away. after i was 16. the week before, my friend Nyk Day spiked my moonshine at his gf’s house and sexually assaulted me and she helped while I was drunk.

After that, i started up again with taking the steak knives to my thighs. taking pictures, making bloody designs into my skin and just.. yeah. my stepmom took my phone and saw the pictures, and she knew i was doing bad things with my bf. through text of course. but, she and my dad went to the garage to talk. which worked perfect for me. I was coloring with my youngest sister jaydin. and i told her “okay little boo, now, im gonna step outside for a minute but you gotta pinkie promise you wont follow. okay?” i didnt want her to see me run..

she said okay, and i went outside. thats when i ran off. It was during a tornado warning, flood warning and thunderstorm warning. The worst day of October.. 11th i believe. I ran, hopped the fence, ran down the street and took a sharp right into the cover of the trees so they couldnt track me. I heard my little sister calling my name, but i was too hyped on the need to run away i didnt look back. I ran to the next town.

I twisted my ankle, went through muddy corn fields, got cut up by thorns and barbed wire. I started crying after 5 hours of running. I kept saying “caleb, im coming i promise. i promise. im gonna get out of here i promise” caleb was the guy i was dating at the time, for 3 years. and.. i eventually got to a road. I was wearing boots, torn up jeans and a ruined sweatshirt. my cuts were infected, i was covered in mud and rain and plants, i was crying and eventually found my way out of the corn field.

I remember falling to the ground and laid there for a while after 3 hours of straight running. I fell and twisted my ankle, into the mud and started bawling. i couldnt stop, i covered my ears from the thunder and cried. I cried and just.. i dunno. broke. after.. about 30 minutes to an hour i got back up and sloshed through the mud to get to the backroad. There were some houses, spread apart. I forgot that my head was bleeding from when i came into contact with some barbed wire. I tried knocking on a door, saying “is anyone there? please call the police i really need help.”

but they wouldnt answer. even if watching tv. so i went to the next house. by this time i must have looked dreadful. A nice old lady walked out and sat me down, she grabbed a towel and some water. hitting the 8 hour mark, her and her husband let me in. They listened to my story of the events that day, and why i needed to get away. They gave me a phone and i tried calling my boyfriend. i called three times and started crying when he wouldnt answer. i looked to him for guidance on what to do because i was so scared and lost. but.. the old couple put my clothes in the dryer for me, and gave me some clothes to wear and even fed me.

I hadnt eaten for 4 days and i remember them feeding me a peanut butter sandwich, tea, chips and a brownie. it was soo good and the old lady sat with me while her husband phoned the police. I was taught all my life to fear the police and i begged the counties police officer that came.. I said to him “please sir, i will do anything. put me up for adoption even i dont care just.. please. please dont make me go back. i cant go back you dont understand. i cant. please sir you have to believe me.” and so he put me in his car, the old couple let me keep the clothes, and i was driven to my counties police station. it was storming so hard, the car was being pushed a bit off the road and the thunder was horrible.

I was sat down in the police station, and told Mr. Watts, a good police man, what was going on. He contacted my father, but I saw on the cameras, he wouldnt let any of them into the station on my request. and he drove me to my dads, where i was put into my gma’s car. and moved back there. sorry, a bit skipped around. so then i was back at my gma’s and that when i broke up with caleb, got my grades straight and contacted my mom on easter. she bought me my own clothes, because the only clothes i owned were all hand-me-downs and i didnt own anything of my own. they fed me, i met her boyfriend, and he treated me more like a dad than my own biological father.. and they said they were gonna save me. i remember we met up on a saturday.

they said they were gonna get the papers and they were gonna get me home. i was so happy. but.. then.. my dad got angry at me for the lip piercing and stuff. he said “imma come over there and rip your lip ring out, im gonna drag you by your short ass fucking hair home and beat the utter shit out of you, you wont be able to fucking walk little bitch” and since he was a raging druggie and alcoholic, eh… but, i told my mom.

and i got the balls to run to the police station. Kyle told me to contact him if anything ever happened. so, one day i stepped into Officer Deitzels office at school and told him what my dad was and has been doing. Kyle came by and said for me to walk to the police station after school. my family was contacted. i was really stressed and really nervous and upset.. so, when my gma called and said i was to be picked up, i refused and started crying in front of the desk lady. i remember i started shaking my head and my voice cracked as i whispered “im not going. im not going im staying here.”

and she said okay and i ran back to the lobby. I called officer Kyle and he told me that he cant really do anything on a legal standing and that i would have to walk to the station after school. so, i snuck out the front of the school after the final bell and ran to the station. my mom, as fast as she could grabbed the joint custody papers and rushed to the station.

the DFS worker there heard my story and then said to me “well, youre going back to your dads and thats that” i looked at her and blew up. i said “fucking excuse me? NO! im not going fucking back. you wanna send me back id rather die. youre a fat ass fucking bitch who gets paid extra to watch kids sit in misery. you dont give a fucking shit. i hate all you DFS workers, because all you ever did was deny the truth when i had bruises, when i had witnesses to me being abused. im telling you, lady, im NOT fucking going back and thats that.”

she got all huffy and talked to me father in the justice room. my mom came and after a while i was taken from my secluded room to sit with everyone. I was told that even with joint custody, i was being forced to go back to my dads. and.. my mom cried so hard. i did too as my bio dad had the fucking balls to look at me in front of that officer and say “erika, i would never do anything to hurt you or keep you from your mother” a bull faced lie.

so.. i was taken back to my gma’s and put on house arrest. they took everything of mine and i was to sleep in the living room. My family, of whom i thought i could trust, yelled at me and called me an attention seeking little whore. my aunt wendy said “you know everyone is afraid to hug you now? what if you say that WE molested you” and that hurt so much.. The next day, i went to school.. and then was called out of school early.

my dad was with my grandmother. they put my clothes in a bag.. and a white van pulled up.. two people in white stepped out and took my stuff. I looked at my grandma and she said “this is for the best, they are gonna fix you here” and I was put in the van and we drove away. I didnt know where I was going, didnt know what was going on, didnt know what the place was called or where it was or anything…

Found out they admitted me to Royal Oaks Hospital, 2 and a half hours away. on purpose so my mother would have a hard time getting to me. I was pricked with needles, stripped naked with only a hospital gown in a cold room, searched, given clothes to wear and left in the hallway with staff watching me close as I waited to sleep. i was admitted at 9 pm. the first night was horrible, i slept in the corner of the room with a blanket and had a dream about the previous girl who slept in my bed. Helen, she was a real person, and i felt her angry energy still in the blanket that i had to use. after 7 days of the same routine, i got used to it.. i learned everything through observation by the 3rd day. we werent allowed to touch anyone, werent allowed to talk unless told to. we had to wake up at 6 am. make beds, sit in the hall for the med cart at 8. then went to breakfast single file.
once we ate we had to set our silverware in piles and they had to check them off, they recorded how much we ate in percentages. then they took pulse and blood pressure before having us go to group therapy and all that shit. it was the same damn thing over and over and over and over every damn day. you never knew what time it was, they didnt tell you what day it was. i only got a call once a day from my mama. and i remember on the last day, my father officially threw me away to my mother like a chewed up piece of meat to a dog.

he packed all my shit (only took 3 hours and 8 boxes) and put them outside. I was still wearing the hospital clothes as I awaited for my mom and stepdad to pick me up. I was sitting on the roof, skinny, gaunt and messed up and curled up in a ball waiting and hopin this wasnt some kind of sick joke. and.. ive lived with my mom for a few months. i was released on April 23rd of 2015. so, ive been here a while.


  1. Oh my God! I feel so terrible for see all of this happen to someone. Nobody should have to take this kind of torment and beatings and horrible treatment from anyone. How are you doing now? These people were terrible and I do not know how anyone could do this. People constantly kept turning you away and do horrible things. But you enduring all of this and coming through to a much better end than beginning shows that you are one of the strongest people I have ever seen.

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