Child Abuse Story From Whitney1

by Whitney
(Mexico)

My mother was a raging alcoholic and my dad was dead. She left me on the side of the road when I was 3 years old. I was adopted by my grandparents (her parents). They chose to never tell me that I was adopted, so when they both passed away when I turned 10, I found out. I was all alone and was going to be sent to an orphanage. Instead I chose to look for my mom.

I was in and out of foster homes for the next three years until I finally found her when I was thirteen. She had moved to Mexico, married a Mexican and had two girls of her own. I arrived and she took me in. I was so happy to have a family. Everyone treated me like I was part of the family. My stepfather was the nicest out of everyone...he would take me to my soccer games and really participate in everything I did.

After about a year of living with them, my stepdad started taking cocaine. He was no longer the person that I had come to love so much. He began coming home and hitting me. At first it wasn't bad/ He always apologized afterwards, but after about 6 months he really started to hit me.

I remember one night I was babysitting my sisters and he came in with a rage and started to kick me and punch me while I was on my bed. I told my mom what happened, but she did not believe me, so it went on for 2 years. He never hit his daughters. He always would take it out on me. He also began looking at me in a different way. One night he came into my room, covered my face with a pillow and well you know the rest.

I hated him and I hated my mother. I could not grasp the reason this was happening to me. I was so ashamed to look at anyone, to move, to breathe and to even live. After about 3 months of living in hate...I decided to end it all. I took a razor and cut my wrists. Unfortunately, I was rushed to the hospital and they were able to "save" me. I hated that even more. I just wanted to escape.

The beatings and rape continued for 5 years. When I turned 16, I was done. I was lying on the couch, watching a movie when he arrived home. He automatically came over and kicked me off the couch (I hated him more than anyone could possibly hate another human being) so I said no and I stayed put. He then continued punching me. I then stood up and with all my hate and anger I punched him right in the nose! I grabbed a bat and went after him...then I ran... got into my mom's car and drove to where she was. I arrived with a bloody lip and messy hair. She was sitting with her friends having coffee. I went up to her screaming, "Now do you believe me? Look at me, look what he does all the time, everyday!" Instead of believing me she got angry and demanded that I go home. I left, but I never went home again. I guess I was scared that he was going to kill me.

I started living on my own and have been on my own ever since. I am now 22 years old and I survived. I am not saying that I am ok, because I am never ok, and I think I never will be. Every time I close my eyes to sleep I see him. I have a severe case of insomnia because I am too scared to sleep. This is my story. It is an ongoing battle. All I ever wanted was a family, and instead I received punishment for something I will never understand. I wanted to feel loved and instead I was abused.

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