From my first breath, life was a fight. Born to a mother addicted to drugs and abuse, and a father consumed by violence and substances, my childhood was a never-ending horror.
My earliest memory is etched in my mind like a scar. I was only two or three years old, huddled with my siblings – my sister a year older, my brother a year younger – on dirty blankets scattered across a dark floor. Suddenly, a door creaked open, flooding the room with light. A man loomed over us, his face twisted in anger. He lowered himself closer, his eyes blazing with fury. Though I don't recall his words, the silence was deafening. He shook a bottle over my face, and I felt a searing sting in my eyes – possibly hot sauce, but I'll never know. Was this man my father or one of my mother's boyfriends while Dad was incarcerated?
This terrifying incident was only the beginning. My siblings and I endured multiple attacks like this throughout our lives.
When I was around three or four, my mother abandoned us with the man who had molested her throughout her own childhood – her father, our grandfather. His wife, Grandma Terry, lived with him, unaware of the evil lurking beneath his facade. He subjected my sister and me to the same horrors he had inflicted on our mother until I was about five years old.
Then, my father was released from jail, and we were forced to live with him. We moved to Banning, California, into an apartment complex where my aunt resided with her three sons in a separate unit.
Tragedy continued to unfold:
* My sister, traumatized by Grandfather's abuse, began molesting our little brother. When confronted, we revealed the truth – "Grandpa did this to us" – but Father accused the wrong grandfather, and we were branded liars.
* Father's brutality escalated; I recall the first beating vividly – age six or seven – when he ripped the thick TV antenna wire from the wall and whipped me mercilessly. My pink sweater turned red with blood.
* Starvation, homelessness, and molestation became our reality. Father even forced us to fight each other and dig a grave – intended for my little brother...
