A place where home is, a safe place to be, protected and secure from all hurt and fear. I didn’t mind home and my parents all that much, a kid at 9 knew this inside. In a moment all of it disappeared in a flash. Tick… Tick… the time past, wasn’t sure how long or what time it was, I knew something wasn’t right. Pants pulled down my father stood up and pulled his grey bottoms up. Time past… I sat there, light on, pants now are pulled up. Bed sinks in beside me. “Did you like that,” he asked, “Do you want more?” he asked. “Say yes you want more, you liked that,” he persisted.

Pants… 9 years old…

“Go hide in the closet now!” he told me. I did. Laying on top of boxes and painful objects, covering myself fast and slowing my breathing down. Door opens. Door closes. I remain still and dead. No one must know, no one.

5 years later… My brother and little sister and my mom all went to my aunts for the weekend. I got dressed in my PJ’s came down stairs. Father was making a float, I walked to the fridge and saw a half cut pill and powder beside the cup. “Go away, go find something on T.V.” He told me. “Will you watch a movie with me?” I asked. “Yes, go watch TV” I did, he brought me the float. It was different, never had one before. There was crushed stuff, “Dad why is there like sandy stuff in the cup?” I ask. “It’s from the ice-cream,” I drank more. I began to feel dizzy, I began to sweat drips of water off my face, my stomach started to hurt. I lay down on the floor and came in and out of sleeping. “Dad, I’m not feeling well, I’m going to bed… I’m tired.” “Aren’t you going to drink the float, it is good?” I drank more, until it was gone. Stumbled upstairs to my bedroom, fell on my bed, and could not move, the light never bothered me, things became black fast. “Hey, you’re going to bed this early now?” “I’m tired and I feel like shit,” he turned my light off and left. I heard him go down stairs.

Float… Tired…

Steps coming upstairs, getting closer I heard my door open. I remember seeing his face. His black shirt on, everything goes black fast. I wake up in the morning, like someone had violated me, my head hurt so badly, I felt so sick. I got up and went and held on the back of my bed leaning down almost in tears, I knew something happened but I couldn’t remember. “Dad, I’m not feeling well. I think I’m getting the flu. God it hurts.” “Okay okay, take two Tylenol and you will be fine.” I took them and past out up stairs. Woke up a few hours later nothing changed that much besides my painful stomach ache.

Violated… sick…

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “A little better.”

Few months later…

“You’re a fucking ungrateful daughter!”
“I wished I never of had you!”
“Get lost. Get out of this house now!”
“I’d rather put a bullet in my head to not see you!”
“I’d rather die of a heart attack to not see you!”
“You cause so much shit you don’t even know!”
“How about I drive us into this river and kill both of us…”

Dying… Blood… Blade…

I sat in my dark room on the floor for hours staring at nothing. I was scared to go down stairs. I ate my meals in my room. I wrote in my room. I hid my writing. I hid my *SI. Layers helped me keep my secret from others. Inside, I wished I would die. I lost my family at 14, I told myself they’re not my family.

16 and 10 months old March 22, 2010…

Pain killers I inhaled. I drank the last bit of what I stole of alcohol to help complete my death. I had enough, packed my bags, left and got myself to a hospital. I refused to tell anyone what was going on. Only the ER doctor knew. Puke was perfect. I was Shaking, Weak and Tired. I was transported to the Psychiatric ward. I wouldn’t let them call my parents. I refused to talk about it. I refused to go back home, I demanded to go in a group home, I begged them.

March 5th 2011 and 17

11 months spent in the group home, is now closing. I was forced to move into a homeless shelter and go on Government Assistant. On May 1st I’m now alone. I’m Sharing a home with strangers, paying rent, going to a food bank. I finally turned 18, my counsellor let me go because I’m now an adult. I really felt alone.

Sex became an outlet. Slept with, 12 different guys more than once for a year. Had sex over a hundred times plus did requests.

January 2012 OD

I shoved pills into my mouth *, I took in a total of * of the substance. I called 9-1-1 hoping I would die, they would just complete it for me. I was rushed to the hospital. Marks on my wrist. Tubes and wires and countless holes for blood work every hour for a few hours during the night. They pumped an antidote into me fast. Heart monitor hooked to me. I sat there hoping I would just die. I refused to talk to the Psychiatric doctor and I lied to them, that it was my emotional pain and not an attempt at killing myself. It was in fact to kill myself. 5 days in a hospital, 3rd day my level of toxic still never improved. 4th day it reduced quickly and 5th day I was released. Every day a few times daily they asked me, “Are you thinking of killing yourself,” No,” I reply (yes I was saying inside). I couldn’t let myself be dragged to a cell in the hospital or room and everyone around me talking about their lives and shitty stories or freaking out.

My life now…

My fathers face haunts me all the time, he tells me it’s my fault. I deserve his punishment. For sleeping around, getting an STI, I deserve it all. I recently started to *SI again, after *SIing for 2 and half years and stopped for about a year. I’m so numb by him and his demons, *SIing makes him disappear.

19 and today…

Molested… drugged… group home… hospital… OD… numb… sex addiction… random men… and my demons.

*edited by the Support Team for triggering content