Chapter One

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A long time ago it started on the third of October. The day I was born, a day I'm too grown-up to remember. I don't remember much from my childhood. But what I do remember was that it wasn't a bedtime story. It's not a fairytale, it was a living, breathing nightmare. It all start with the fire. I remember so faintly seeing my mom cry, the cops take us away. I remember a big bright white room. It held three small beds and a blue tv. I never had toys growing up. Even then the tv was not allowed to be messed with.

One day we were sitting in that room our foster parents had gone out, they left us with the babysitter. A tall, white, brown haired boy. But the only reason that it was a male instead of a female. Was because he was different. Different how? He was gay.

Yeah, and as soon as my brother and sister had fallen asleep. I remember him grabbing me and grasping me in places that hurt. But instead of stopping. He started punching me in the face... ripping my clothes off punching my body. He inserted himself in my rear, and thats the last thing I remember because he'd had slammed my head onto the floor. I woke up in the hospital with injuries all over my body.

Nobody had found me until the next morning... he just threw my body into the freezing cold grass and no one noticed I was gone. Until my little brother the next morning had walked out and found me. Lying in a pool of blood, and piss.

After that things changed... from what I wanted or needed it came with a cost. If I wanted a bath, my foster parents named Tera and Rich said, "If you want one you sleep in the tub." If I got one they'd lock me in the bathroom.

I remember this thing, it had red glowing eyes. Typical scary movie right. But I remember grabbing onto it. It felt like plastic and I remember it visiting. Not only was it there. But one night I had gotten in trouble for talking during dinner, after they'd whipped my butt with a belt until it bled. I was sent to bed. Then it appeared at the end of my bed and I once again grabbed onto it. It almost ripped my body under that bed.

I seem crazy but I was three when this happened and I have scars to prove it. I used to go into meetings with black and blue eyes. Whip marks across my body. I remember saying to my mother, "When will I wake up?"

After their house my brother, sister and I had moved to an elderly couples house. They had toys in a chest and a big brown table in the kitchen. I remember a little pale boy with black hair and eyes. He only visited in my dreams. Only came to me in my sleep. I dreamt about him in the corner, us playing hide and seek. But I remember being so terrified to play because he said if he found me he'd kill me.

I woke up once. I woke up under that big brown table, when my eyes opened that boy was walking around the table. As soon as they opened the soonest he was gone. I looked around and the grandmother like woman had came down and held me until my cries had faded..

That was the first time I ever felt safe... because after that my life lost its meaning.

Our next stop was a gang house, I was held in a room locked for three days listening to the walls crack and bang. The girl who was there was thin and pale but she said she was dead. I remember lying on that cold hard floor one night, the sirens wailed, and the walls began to shatter. The gunshots streaming through the cold room. I remember not hearing anything. I couldn't hear. I was deaf from those bullets. She laid there with me all night long.  I remember everything and it scares me.... it truly fucking scares me... You guys have no fucking idea how hard it is to tell someone about this. Let alone let everyone read it... its killing me. Making me want to just delete it all....but I won't. Because I was exposed the day I was conceived....

I should've killed myself a long time ago... Then I wouldn't be where I'm at...