Branded a Witch
Being branded a witch by my own mother shattered me. I withdrew into myself, hiding in my room, crying silently into my pillow. Outside, I wore a mask, pretending I was fine. Inside, I was broken.
Sometimes I asked God if I was cursed. Why me? Why would my family turn so completely against me? But deep down, I knew this was the devil's work. He had found his way into our home, and I was his main target.
Then one night, God answered. In a dream, His presence filled me with peace. He revealed that my pain was only the beginning, not the end. The attacks, the hatred, the isolation... they were shaping me, preparing me for something greater. He reminded me that though everyone else had abandoned me, He never had. I woke with tears in my eyes, but they were tears of peace. For the first time in years, I felt hope.