Child Abuse Story From Danielle
by Danielle
(Pittsfield, Massachusetts, USA)
I grew up with more than one type of abuse:
I grew up not really knowing what love was. I thought love was hitting, because they said they did it to "protect me".
I grew up not really knowing what love was. I thought love was hitting, because they said they did it to "protect me".
When I was 6 years old, I had a stepfather. He used to beat me every day from the time I was 6 until I was 9 years old. He told me if I ever told anyone he would kill me, but first he would kill my brothers and sisters and make me watch.
One day, I tried to tell my mom, but she wouldn't believe me. When she left that night, I got one of the worst beatings of my life. But what I don't understand is how she "didn't know" because I had bruises all over my body and face every day. Where did she think they came from? He used to pick me up by my hair and ears and throw me down. When I was down, he used to kick me and yell at me to get up and stop crying. I soon learned not to cry because when I did cry, the beatings were worse. It used to piss him off when I cried like a "2-year-old". He also used to rip my clothes off and beat me naked, which was the worst.
My mom always had different boyfriends and has been married quite a few times. Another one of my ex-stepfathers used to make me sit there and watch him beat my mom. I was 9, and I didn't know what to do because I had just gotten finished being abused myself for three years.
I was never fed, but here in the town I live in, we have a thing called church dinners. I used to walk a mile there and a mile back to get one meal a day. On Saturdays I didn't eat because the dinners were too far away, so I used to eat my dog's dried up food, until one day I got caught and I was beat for that too.
My mom used to have sex in front of me with several different guys, and it always made me feel so uncomfortable.
I used to get made fun of and beat up at school for wearing the same clothes everyday, but the thing is, I only had 2 pairs of pants and they both had holes in them everywhere, and 3 oversized stained shirts that went past my knees. The only benefit to that was in the winter time, I was a little warmer. I had sneakers that had holes in them and the soles were falling off. I had no underwear at all.
My mom used to smoke weed in front of me and drink to the point where she'd be completely "smashed". Four months before my 11th birthday, my mom went to jail. I was put into a foster home in Lee. For Christmas I was given coal. On my birthday they locked me in my room and put a dresser in front of my door. They had me wake up every morning and be outside by 4:30 a.m. so I could milk the goats and put fresh hay in their den, and feed the cows and the 2 dogs.
About 2 weeks after my birthday, I moved to a different foster home in Beckot. I loved it there. They treated me so good, but a couple months before my 12th birthday I went back home with my mom. It was good for a little while, but then she got back with her ex (the one that used to make me watch him beat her). It went down hill again from there.
When I was 15, we moved to a different apartment building. Throughout the time I was back with my mom, I made several suicide attempts. I was 15 when I was raped by a group of guys. They raped me every day for about 6 months. I missed so much school because of it. It all ended because I attempted suicide again, only this time it was much more severe. At the time, I was into drinking and smoking weed to try and take the pain away, but that wasn't the answer.
On February 2nd, 2006, I overdosed on 85 Tylenol PM's. I was anorexic at the time and extremely underweight. But then I started to think about what I had done and I was afraid to die, so I went to Burger King to get fries so I could throw them up. I waited in line for about 5 minutes, but by the time I got up to the register, the cops had come in from both entrances and circled me. One of the guys I worked with (I worked at Burger King) had called 911 because I had told him what I did. And since I was reported as a run risk, they sent the cops to get me. They caught me and handcuffed me, then they put me in the back of the car and started to go to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital, I was kind of loopy because the pills had started to take effect. They handcuffed me to the rails on the side of my bed and took a tube and shoved it up my nose and down my throat to give me charcoal to absorb the pills. I'll never forget that feeling. I went into a comma and I was having seizures. They called my mom after getting my information from Burger King. They told her I wasn't going to make it and they wanted to put me on a breathing machine. She wouldn't sign permission for it. They told her if she wanted, she could stop by and see me to say her final good-byes. She didn't come. Instead, she was with the guys who had raped me. I came to find out they used to pay her to go downstairs while they had their way with me.
As you can tell, I survived. It's a miracle, because with that much poison in my body and being so underweight, I should have been dead!
After that, I went to a psychiatric hospital, and then to the crisis stabilization unit, then to the key shelter, then to the key program for a year. Then I went to a foster home. I was abused yet again, so they stuck me in the s*t*a*r*r program until they located a new foster home. I now live there.
Today I am 17 years old. I am completely against abuse. I used to read other peoples' stories, and it helped me out, so I wanted to write one myself so hopefully I can help someone else out. I want to make a bad experience into a helpful one for others. I try to help people out as much as I can, and this is hopefully one of the ways. And remember, you're never alone. There are hundreds of people who have been through this too!
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