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AngelGrl87

I was S.A.ed for 9 years from 7 yrs. old until I was 16. in My Story

  • April 1, 2026, 5:34 a.m.
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I wrote this back in 2011.


I simply copied and pasted this story to my prosebox.  I originally wrote it in a blog that I was going to dedicate to sharing not just my story, but my love for Jesus.  When I posted my story, however, it was spammed by pornographers and hackers that would use my story as a gateway to pornography.  Since my story is about my childhood dealing with sexual abuse, I felt sick to my stomach and fell into a depression.  I’ve since abandoned that blog, obviously, and since joining prosebox—I feel safe to copy and paste my story here.

I must warn you…some might find my story is GRAPHIC.  It was very hard for me to write it all down at the time that I wrote it—even reading it aloud was hard.  But it’s my story.  Though this is a hard story to tell…my hope is that I can reach anyone that might have experienced what I experienced (or maybe still experiencing)—and give HOPE.

…because during this hard time in my life, I was hopeless.  For me, finding Jesus restored my hope and I hope that even through these dark moments that you read, you will see the LIGHT.


This is my story of 9 years of sexual abuse and in the last year of that abuse, my step father had my mother committed to a psychiatric hospital so he could rape me almost everyday for 2 months.


This is that story.



My Story: Part 1 The Beginning

As far back as I could remember, I knew there was a God.  I just knew.  Did I know what he did when he sent himself (Jesus) to die on the cross and why He did it.  No.  But I certainly knew he was there watching over me.  I was such as a niave child, but I was happy.  From when I was the age five years old and younger, I did not have a care in the world and thought life was grand!  I had extended family members that treated me like a little princess, a wonderful mother, a loving grandmother, and a brother I considered my best friend.  I did, however, felt like I was missing a major part in my life.

When I was a little girl, starting from as far as I can remember (being three or four years old), it was my longing to have a father-figure in my life.  At the age of four, I would often daydream of what my "father" would be like, if I had one.  Arnold Schwarzenegger, in the movie Commando, was a perfect example of what I thought a father should be.  At that young age, I would watch the movie Commando and my favorite parts of the movie was the beginning of the film, where it shows John Matrix's (Schwarzenegger) relationship with his daughter Jenny (a very young Alyssa Milano), and my other favorite part of the movie was the ending of Commando, showing John rescuing his daughter from the terrorist group that had kidnapped Jenny in the film.  While the movie is not as important in my testimony, nor does there need to be any details on what the movie was about, it was an example of what I longed for in a father.  As a little girl, I wanted a father that would be there to be strong, to protect me, doing "father/daughter" activites with me, and most importantly to love me unconditionally.  When I saw other children with a father in their lives, I envied at what they had and wished I was in their shoes.

My mother, who was so young, went from different jobs trying to support my brother and I (a few years before my sister was born) while trying to take care of her children so there were times when she did not have time to find that "father-figure" that I had always wanted.  When she did have time to find a boyfriend, I never liked the guys she would be with...needless to say those guys did not last long.  My mother had a pretty rough life growing up and a lot of why she had a rough life was the men she met along the way (her testimony I will not share at this time).

One day, when I was five years old, she did meet a guy that I trusted from the moment I saw him.  She brought him over to our home, one day, and I had just awoke from my nap and there he was sitting on our couch. He had dark hair and had a warm smile on his face.  He was wearing a clean-cut military uniform.  His name was Scott.  He was in the Army, he was extremely nice, and he was dating my mother.  When I first saw him, I was reminded of that movie, Commando, and I was in awe of him.  When I first met him, I was thinking to myself, "Wow, mommy brought home a man that could be my daddy!" It was like my wildest dreams were coming true!  So, being the forward child that I was, I introduced myself and asked the man if he would be my daddy.  He smiled at me and told me that he wished he could be.  And for the next few months, my mom was around him all the time and Scott, my mom, brother, and I would do things together and I could not wait for the day when I finally got to call him daddy.  After September 3rd, 1993, my mother and Scott had finally got married...and I was able to call him "Daddy."  I remember being so happy and being excited when my new military dad would come and pick me up from the school I was attending...and seeing the reactions of my classmates when they would see my new daddy walk into my class to pick me up from school, while wearing his army uniform.  I was extremely happy. Things could not have a better happy ending.  


Or so I thought...


...you really don't know someone until you know someone.  I wish I could sit here and tell you that my mother marrying a man that I saw as another Arnold Schwarzenegger was my happy ending.  I wish I can sit here and tell you that this was my fairy tale ending.  A little fatherless girl had her dreams come true and she finally got the daddy she always wanted.  I wish I could tell you how happy I was when Scott was now my father figure.  It was, in reality, the beginning of the horrors that were to come.  It was the beginning of my trust being betrayed and my innocence to be stolen.


Scott was not the man I expected.



The Beginning of my Abuse

A month or two after my mother and (now) step father had been married, my family had moved from where we were living in Tennessee (where I was born) and moved to Houston, Texas where his foster family had lived.  It was the beginning of a new life for us together as a family.  At that time, Scott was still envolved in the military.  At first, we moved in with his foster family.  They were also really nice (well to my brother and I at least) and my brother and I loved being outside in their backyard with their dogs.  I felt like we could not have had it better made.  I loved my new school that I was going to, when I started first grade, and I loved having my "family" come and pick me up everyday.

After my family had been at my step dad's foster parents house for a couple of months, we had moved into the house across the street from them.  Not long after we moved in, the military was sending my step dad to North Korea for the next 6 months.  For the next 6 months, I didn't get to see him as much.  So my mother, now a stay at home mom, was left at home with my brother, me, and my foster grandparents.

To fast forward 6 months later, my mom had to be rushed to the hospital so they sent my step dad back home  My mother had tried to attempt suicide, due to lies being told to my step dad (by my foster parents) that my mother was cheating on him.  While my mother was in the hospital, my step dad was left to take care of my brother and I.  During that time, I wanted my mother so much...not just because I missed her, but because I needed her to protect me.  For the time she was gone, certain things started to happen.  I will list them below, along with what happened.  This all took place when I was now 7 years old:

Sexual Abuse 

I woke up one morning, I went in the living room to either watch television or make myself some cereal.  My brother was still asleep at the time I woke up.  When I woke up and went into the living room, my step dad also came out of his room, walked into the living room where I was at and laid on the couch.  After laying on the couch, he asks me to massage his leg for him.  I hesitated and started massaging his leg.  Afterwards, he starts to masterbate in front of me and makes me watch.  This is just one of the many things that happened while my mom was in the hospital.


Physical Abuse

  • Suffocation : if I had been crying, because I had got in trouble, he would take his hands (which are considered giant for a 7 year old) and cover my mouth and nose so I couldn't breath.  He would hold his hands there for a minute before letting go.  Sometimes I would black out for a second.
  • Beatings :  if I was in trouble, instead of spanking me, I was beaten, slapped, so on and so forth.

Emotional/Mental Abuse


....and so on and so forth.


For me, I thought I was in a nightmare and I could not wake up.  I remember having all kinds of emotions run through me while all this was happening.  Most of all, however, I felt alone, hurt, confused and betrayed.  This was a man that I saw as my father.  "How could he do this," I often wondered.  Another thought I would sometimes think was "I thought he loved me."  I was never the same after that.  When I was a child, before I met my step father, I had all the confidence in the world.  I was willing to make new friends my age and was at times the center of attention.  After having my step dad in my life, I had a low self esteem, no confidence, vulnerable, and depressed all the time.

After my mom came home from the hospital, I was so relieved and happy to see her.  I was happy she was home because I didn't have to be alone with my step dad anymore and I can be with my mom.  As she was home for a couple of days was when I discovered what my mom did, how she tried to commit suicide by taking all of the pills in our household, and the horrific words that she carved into her the skin of her legs (words like F*** Life, Die, etc.).  And I found all this out because my step dad decided to tell me in front of her.  I knew at that point that things in life, while my step dad was around, were going to get worse.

My Story: Part 2

As the years went by, I became "programed" (so to speak) to becoming use to the abuse I went through.  If I was being yelled at by my step father, I would stiffen like a concrete statue and not argue or utter a word.  I could be right or wrong and not say anything.  It was much more than being taught not to argue, out of respect for the parental authority around me.  For me, if I argued or tried to explain my situation, that would mean that my step father would come to me in the middle of the night and beat me...or worse.  If I yelled, much less whimpered, I would possibly be suffocated by my step father's hands covering my nose and mouth.  That was his way of getting me to shut up.  I was in fear of my step dad.

Before I continue, please note that there are two different types of fear...and we all have one, or both, of these fears.

1. A Reverent Fear: This, by all meaning, is a fear that you have when you want to respect those you love and those who have some type of authority over your life.  For example: You might have a fear for your parents because you love them enough to respect them.  This would mean if, when you were a child (if you no longer are), you got in trouble and felt bad that they may have been disappointed in your actions.  Another example, and a big example, is the reverent fear in God.  For those who are Christian, like myself, we fear in God because of his ultimate authority that he has on every living thing and for how great and mighty he is.  If you are a devout, born-again Christian, you have this reverent fear for God because he is the Alpha and Omega.  You fear in God the Almighty.  When I gave my life to Jesus and when he came into my room and wrapped his arms around me (which I will go more into in my testimony) I felt at peace, I felt love, and I felt a Godly type of fear that made me realize how powerful he was.  When he was holding me with his huge arms, it made me realize how big he was. I was a 5'8" teenager and God made me feel like a small toddler when he was holding me. This type of fear is derived from the awe of God.  When you unconditionally love someone, especially those that are headover you, you want to respect them.  You trust them. When you respect and trust someone, you usually are disappointed in yourself when you disappoint them or you just want to respect everything about that particular person.  You have a conviction about certain things that you no longer have a desire to do (or you never had the desire to do those things).  This fear was created by God. This is a fear of reverence.

2.  A "Distressful" Fear:  Now this fear is completely different from the reverent fear.  This fear causes panic, anxiety, stress, apprehension, etc.  This fear is not derived because you respect someone.  This fear is caused when you feel like you are in some type of danger,  feel like you are at risk of something, or you are in harm - physically, emotionally, etc.  You have this fear when you no longer have trust for the particular thing or person you are afraid of.  You are apprehensive about the environments or persons around you because you want to protect yourself from that particular thing that you are being tense over.  It may be a minor fear of getting in debt, getting cancer, etc.  It may be a fear of getting harmed by someone or something.  What ever the fear is, it's not a fear of love, nor a fear that's from God.  This fear is caused by a lack of trust of your environment, your situation(s), certain people, etc.  Just know that not everything (nor anyone) that you lack trust in can constitute as you being afraid of them or that particular thing...but with this fear, what you fear in, you are lacking trust.


Continuing to what I am about to say in my testimony, the type of fear I had of my step father was number 2.  I did not fear my step dad because I had reverence for him.  I feared him because I was afraid of him hurting and abusing me.  Growing up with my step dad, I was afraid of what he would do to me...and later I became afraid of what he might do to my family.


Another Level in the Sexual Abuse

It was in the Spring (almost Summer) time of 1995 and I was still seven years old.  Our family had moved back to Tennessee in January because of my foster grandparents hurting my mother.  We were living at this apartment complex called Waterview and it was slightly cloudy outside.  My mother and brother had to go to the store real quick.  I remember not wanting to be alone with my step dad and wanted to go with them.  Unfortunately, I had to stay home and do some homework.  While they were gone, it was another one of those things where I had to massage my step dad's leg.  However, this time was different than before.  In the beginning it started as a "massage." It then escalated to touching his private area...and the next step disgusted me even further.

He had exposed himself to me, which he had done before in the past.  At first, I was expecting that he would masturbate in front of me...which that, by itself, made me uncomfortable.  Instead, he asked me to give him oral sex.  I was taken aback for a minute and I told him "No, Daddy.  I don't want to do that."  He kept telling me over and over and over that it would make him happy and that I would be a good girl if I did it.  I hesitated for a while and I kept insisting that I did not want to do that.  After a while of me refusing, he puts his hand behind my head and forces me down in between his legs.  It was the first time I would commit such a sexual act...and being that I was a little girl, I did not know that there was a such thing as oral sex.  Afterwards, he told me that if I told anyone that I would get in "big trouble" and that I would be the cause of hurting my family.  At that time, I took it that if I told anyone, HE would hurt my family.  So for a few years, I kept my mouth shut...and was more timid than before.  This would be the only time I would have oral sex with my step dad up until I was thirteen years old. 


Needless to say, this would be the beginning of why I had become an Agnostic...I thought to myself  "...if God was real, why did he not stop this from happening?  If he was, he didn't care about me".  To me, I was alone. I was alone with no one to turn to.


The First Time I Tried to Tell Someone


Over the years, the abuse continued along with my silence.  The more I was silent, the worse it would get.  Every time I was alone, my step dad would chase me down, I would try to get away from him, and he would make me sit in his lap and press himself against me (in between my legs) or have me massage his leg, like always, and (this time) make me touch his private parts instead of him masturbating himself.  And I would still stiffen like a statue if I was yelled at or had got in trouble for something. 

Well, when I was twelve-in-a-half years old (now living back in Houston, Texas), I was going through puberty and my first time I ever started my menstrual cycle...I was laying in my bed.  It was late at night and I was trying hard to fall asleep (but for some reason had a hard time doing so).  As I was laying there, late at night, my step father comes into my bedroom.  At this time, I'm not sure what to expect.  I was scared out of my mind.  I wasn't sure if he was going to start hurting me, physically, and start suffocating me...or if I had to do my time-to-time "massages" to my step dad. When he came into my room, at first, I pretended to be fast asleep...of course, I knew that most of the time that wouldn't work.  He kneels down beside my bed and starts lifting up my shirt.  Since I was now fully developed (since starting my puberty), I was freaking out.  I stopped pretending to be asleep and started trying to tell him to stop and that I wanted to go back to sleep.  I even tried pulling my shirt back down.  After a few attempts to try to stop anything from happening, he succeeds in lifting my shirt up.  The next attempt, obvious to say, was the most uncomfortable experiences I faced so far in my abuse.  My step dad began kissing and sucking on my breasts.  Disgust, violation, humiliation, and helpless are words that I can not even describe to you how I was feeling.  For me, it was the worst feeling in to world.

When he was through, my step dad left the room and I made an attempt to pray to God.  My prayer was this:


"God, I don't want to go through this anymore.  I am going to tell my mom, tomorrow morning.  I don't want anything from you except that I have the confidence to say something to my mom. In Jesus name I pray, Amen."


The next morning, I was getting ready for school.  It was a Tuesday morning...a cloudy morning.  I was scared to death, but I knew that I had to say something.  My step father had just walked out the door to go to work when I asked my mom to come in the room...so I could tell her something.  She comes in my room with a smile on her face, which makes me feel worse in telling her the truth.  I told my mom that my step dad had molested me and that the night before he put his mouth on my breasts.  My mom flipped.  She did not give me  a chance to tell her how long I was being molested when she ran out of my room, grabbed two kitchen knives and ran out of the house to catch my step dad (before he got in his car).  I could hear her screaming, "You've been touching my child! You've been touching my child!"

But then I heard my step dad say something like this..."No, she's lying! I haven't touched her, I love her!"

Well, I missed school that day.  My step dad didn't go to work and my mom held onto those two knives like they were a favorite toy.  My step dad looked me in the eyes, without looking away or blinking, and told me that he didn't do what I claimed he did.  I was upset when he told me that.  Then he challenged me and told me to look in his eyes and tell him that he abused me.  So I did, without blinking, telling him that he abused me.  My step dad starts to cry and looks at my mom and tells her that I needed help.  My mother goes from being outraged to confused.  I started getting confused, myself.  I was thinking to myself, "I don't understand, it was real...it felt real" and I said that comment out loud.

My foster grandparents came over and was telling my mom and step dad that they knew that I would say something like that because I was a pathological liar (Note: these are the people that was telling my step dad that my mother was having an affair...when in reality she isolated herself in our old house.  They even told her one time that I had molested their dog when I was 6 years old).   Well, at that point, I had to see a psychologist right away to see what was "wrong with me".  When I was there, I was so nervous that I was laughing a lot and I didn't want to be the one to tell the psychologist what I told my mother that morning.  She also talked to my step dad in private, as well.

When the session was over, she told my mother and step-father that I was using my mother's past, from when she was abused, and was using it as my own (Note: did not know my mother's full history at that time to know that stuff).  She also told my family that I was drug seeking.  Everyone believed her, though my mother was never the same around my step dad again because she did not know what to believe.  So everything went back to normal like nothing happened...

...except for me...who was in deep confusion.  I was mad and hurt by God and definitely considered myself an Agnostic.

But that was the beginning of my abuse...becoming like I was a rape victim.

My Story: Part 3

After the first incident where I tried to tell someone what my step father was doing to me, my step dad decided to work out-of-state for the next 6 months...and I was left for those 6 months confused and unsure of myself.  So for those months, it was my mother, brother, my newest sister (who was now 3 around this time), and myself.  I must say, for the 6 months my step father was away, I felt the most peace than I did when he was around.  No abuse took place.  No fear of someone coming into my room late at night.  Nothing.  I was left, however, with the torment of my thoughts and the confusion that came when I was told that none of what I was saying, about my step father, had happened.

I felt like I had no control over my life.  I had tormentors plaguing my thoughts, my heart, my emotions...everything!  Instead of my step father being there to torment me and abuse me, I was being tormented by things I could not explain.  This would be the very beginning when I would have thoughts of suicide become more than ever before...and newer thoughts would be created within my mind as well.  I started having thoughts of homocide.  Darkness covered every part of me.  I could literally feel like I was in a black smog that I could not come out of.  I even felt the typical "dirt" that young girls feel when they were being molested.  I became an open door for things to come in that should not have been there.  I had even experiemented with "Wicca" and other forms of witchcraft to try to make my life seem "better"....or at least gain that control that I knew I could never have.

Six months had passed and my step father came home for a little while.  During the six months, he came back a few times to visit (and to attend his real mothers funeral), but this time he came back for a little while. It was decided that things were "okay" again...and my step father wanted all of us, as a family, to move with him back to where he found a better job that paid more money.  It was in Delaware.  I said goodbye to my closest friends and my family and I moved with my step dad up to Delaware with him.

Delaware's evironment matched the gloomy presense that I had within me and around myself.  It was cloudy (almost) all time.  It rained alot.  And there was a certain type of supernatural "presense" that I sensed when I moved there.  It wasn't good...more like a darkness that veiled over the area I moved to.  It was fitting for a girl, like myself, at the time.  This state would be the place where my abuse got a hundred times worse than anyone could imagine...even for me to imagine.  It would also be the last place that it would happen.  The very last time.

A month's period of living in Delaware, I was exposed to familiar things that I had experienced before...like the oral sex I encountered when I was 7 years old, and I was exposed to newer things (like "fondling" and "grinding").  This time, the newer things were magnified and the horrors increased.  I am going to be honest with you...I did not know what the word "masterbation" was until after my step father told me, for the first time, to masterbate in front of him. I did not know how to "properly" have oral sex until my step dad tried to tell me to do "certain" things.  Boy, did I feel like dirt at the time.  All my first sexual encounters were with my step father...the man that I was suppose to see as my "father".  This time, my step father would climb on top of me and grind up against me like I was his wife in private.  If I said no, I was given a reason to why I should do it...and this time I was told that if I told someone, no one would believe me and how much I had already ruined his life.  Even after the "act" was done, I was told that I was nothing but a little temptress....that it was my fault for why this had happened. 

I was a slave in my own home.  I was no longer just the timid little girl that was being molested.  I was a slave to whatever my step dad asked me to do.  Give my step dad oral sex...I did it.  Wear my mother's lingerie, which was over-sized for a girl like me, and climb on top of him...I did that too.  I no longer had rights to my own body as a young girl.  I was afraid (in the beginning of my worst) that if I tried to defend myself...I would being hurt by my step dad.  Or maybe my family would be hurt...I wasn't sure, but I was terrified.

Trying to Tell Someone, A Couple More Times

I had been living in Delaware for about a year the two times (after the first) that I tried to tell someone.  I, again, wanted to tell someone what was happening to me.  I knew I wasn't crazy...but I, too, had some doubts about whether or not if what I was saying was true.  I, too, fell into the trap of believing that none of what I was saying was true.   I stopped praying to God for him to "give me strength" because I thought, "If he is there, he's ignoring me."  Plus, if I thought that I may have been lying, I didn't want to involve God in any part of that.

Again I went to my mother and tried telling her what was happening...and every time I told her, she would be outraged and go to my step dad.  But, like always, my step dad would give a made up answer to why he didn't do it.  That I was confused.  No one knew what to believe.  My brother came up to me one time and told me that if I was making it up, I needed to stop lying.  I cried so hard when I heard that, but I didn't blame him for what he said nor do I blame him now.  My step father had everyone convinced...although, my mother never felt "normal" around him again. 

I want everyone to know that I tried everything within my own power to make all this stop happening.  I had tried to tell someone about what happened to me so the abuse would stop.  In fact, I tried to say something four times.  When I tried to say something within my power, I fell into a bigger hole.  And my abuse got worse.


Physical Abuse Worsens...And I Start Fighting Back

So you all better understand why I started getting physically abused, as much as I was sexually abused, and why I start fighting back, let me just start from the beginning to why this was happening.  It started...because of a guy I liked.

When I was in middle school, 7th and 8th grade to be exact, I had a crush on this guy in my class. I started liking him in 7th grade, but did not mention him to my "parents" (when I had included my step dad as a "parent") until the spring semester of my 8th grade year...when this guy from my class asked me to be his girlfriend.  My mother, in the beginning, was thrilled that I got my first boyfriend when I was fourteen.  My step father, however, hated the thought that I was dating this guy.  Because I had another guy in my life...my step dad hated it. 

Now, in most families, it could be understandable if a parent thought a child might have been "too young" for a boyfriend or girlfriend based on their maturity level and age or felt that their child's boyfriend or girlfriend did not deserve to be with their child (for whatever reason for that being so).  And as a result, the parent may intervene in someway to try to prevent  their child's relationship with that person. Let me start off by saying that that's what a parent should do because a parent is suppose to protect their child. 

To continue, my step dad gave all the reason's that I had listed in the paragraph above to why he did not want me dating this guy, but that was not his real reason.  In reality, he was jealous.  Regardless if it was or if he was jealous or not, it would be my breaking point for me to think (to myself) that I just about had enough of my abuse from Scott.

So for the next several years, instead of preserving myself in fear and remaining in silence...and instead of me trying to tellpeople what was happening to me, I did what most teenagers do best...argued and screamed at my step dad.  But unlike most teenagers, who argue with parents regardless if the teen was right or wrong, I did much more than just "argue" and "scream" at him.  When he would take me some place in our house (like the basement, for example) if he wanted me to do some sexual act with him, I would hit him...or at least leave some type of mark.

The first time I hit my step dad was when he was trying to climb on top of me.  I looked at my step dad's neck and thought, "If this is really happening to me, if I left some kind of "mark" on him...then I would know that this was real....and maybe someone else will too." 

While I was still on the floor and he was on top of me, the next thing I did was wrap my hands around his neck and started strangling him, as my nails were digging into his skin.  My step dad was caught off guard...and more or less pissed off at me.  He started hitting me and strangling me as well to try and stop me from strangling his neck...and when he did, I moved my legs and feet from under him and started pushing with my legs and feet on his chest to get him off of me.  When I did that, as I still had my hands around his neck, it made five scratch marks on each side of his neck.  I, too, also had some scratches, which I could easily hide with a turtle neck or a scarf for the next couple of weeks after that.

My mom noticed the scratches on my step dad's neck and asked him, "What happened to your neck?"  It caught me by surprise because it was a clue not just to myself, but now other people that I was not "imagining" that I was abused or "that I needed help."  I kept silent, again, as my step father told my mother that our cat, Luna, scratched him as he was trying to pick her up to hold her.  On the outside, I pretended that it was the first time seeing and hearing about those scratches....but on the inside, I was enraged.  I was so mad and upset that if he got closer to me at that second...I would want to kill him.  In my head, I thought about how manipulative he was and that he was a lying snake.

I no longer had a shred of love for him or saw him as a "father".  I tried giving him many chances and thought "well maybe he could change"...but the more I was abused or watched someone be lied to when my step dad wanted to hide what he did to me, I hated him and revolted him more.  And my homicidal and suicidal thoughts increased. Still, even when I had these thoughts, God had plans for me.

My Story: Part 4

Well, for the few years I was in Delaware I had gained the confidence (or lack of care) to stand up to my step dad...but I was still afraid of him in some way.  I was especially afraid to say something (again) because I was in fear that my step dad would intervene again and convince everyone that I was imagining things or taking my mother's past to create an illusion that something was actually happening in my own life.  I already knew at the time that I wasn't "imagining things" or taking my mother's past as my own.  I didn't expect, however, that he would use the same tactic on everyone else...my mother especially.

Insanity in the Household

The last couple of years of my abuse was like being in an insane asylum.  It was getting worse and it was affecting everyone.  Now, I had been to a mental institution...and let me say that NO ONE should have to be in one.  However, I felt like my home life was more like a prison than any institution I have been too.  Near the end, I noticed that the atmosphere that my step father was leaving behind was affecting everyone...and not just myself.

It was in the fall of 2003. My mother had went upstairs in our townhouse, for a moment, to do something that I don't exactly remember.  I was on the computer, which was located in our living room, alone with my step dad.  Now, it was "normal" that whenever I was alone somewhere in the house that my step dad would grope me some place on my body, like my chest.  He did it a lot of times when I had to go do the dishes and everyone (my mom, my brother, and my baby sister) was enjoying their evening together in the living room.  This time, however, I was in the living room and everyone, except my step dad, had went upstairs for a moment.

My mother was going to peak her head down stairs (which was located right next to our living room), basically to be goofy and play peak-a-bee from at the top of the stairs...when she saw my step dad's hands reaching from behind to grab my breasts; while I was hunched over with my arms trying to stop him from doing so.  What she saw was true, and she freaked...meaning she got extremely upset.  She came running down stairs screaming at my step dad.  I, myself, was scared to death that she caught him.  My fear, however, turned into an inner anger...due to what my step dad did to her next.

First, my mother asked me if he did anything to me that made me uncomfortable...looking for a sign either in my face or in my response that she could use to get me out and put my step dad in jail.  At first, I kept silent...and I hesitated to answer her question.  As she was trying to get the answer out of me, my step dad jumped in front of her, telling her not to put me in the middle like that (as if to "stick up for me") and that nothing was happening. 

He calmed her down and she started crying, "I swear, I saw something" and she looked at me, tears streaming down her face...and she asked me again "Amber, did anything happen?"  I looked down at my feet from where I was sitting...and I looked up at my step dad, who had looked as though he had some kind of poker face...but the same time, I noticed the slight downward-narrow look in his eyebrows, as if to tell me that if I said anything that I was going to get in huge trouble.  So, I reluctantly said,

"No....."

My mother looked down at the floor, shook her head, and said "I need help...I starting to see things now."  My step dad grabbed her hand and told her, "Everything is going to be okay, we will get through this together.  I'm here for you. We are all here for you." I stared at my mother, numb.  I watched her break down and cry and tell herself that she didn't understand what was wrong with her.  It was later that night that my mother told my brother and I that she was schizophrenic and that she had that problem for a while...as long as she had been married to Scott, I believe she told me (much later, though).

I was boiling inside because of how my step dad manipulated my mom.  I had never hated someone so much in my life.  At that moment, I wanted to kill him.  I wanted him to die a slow and painful death...and I wanted the privileged to do it.  My homicidal tendencies increased to another level. 

It was around the time I was listening to bands like "Kittie" (an all female heavy metal band that talked a lot about killing or hurting men in their songs)..and I listened with much intensity. I soaked in that music like I was breathing it in as an hallucinogenic drug.  It was my LSD, my crack, and my idol (or god, to be frank).  I tell you this, while praying in the Holy Ghost, because I want everyone to understand that I wasn't just in a natural prison, but in a supernatural-spiritual prison.  Satan had possessed my thoughts, my soul...my heart.  When I say "possessed" I mean it by the term.  No one, in their right thinking, would think about detailed ways to murder someone.  I did.  As I look back, I could remember listening to the song "Do you think I'm a Whore"...I would put the headphones on, sit at the computer in the computer chair, and I would close my eyes (sitting completely still)...soaking the lyrics and heavy melodies of the the song. I remember feeling the dark, heavy presence come over me and I felt like I gained power from that song.  It scared me, yet excited me when I felt that way.  I would listen to songs like that over and over, sometimes.  It would make my suicidal and homicidal thoughts increase and make those thoughts my reality.


My Mother Tricked to Be Hospitalized (Again)

At the end of fall and the same year of 2003, I was picked up from school by my step dad.  He told me, right away (as if he was excited) that my mother was sent to the mental institution again.  The last time she went to the mental institution was, like I said in a former post, was when I was 7 years old.  After my mother talked to my step dad, he "recommended" that she check herself into the institution because of her "seeing things" and for her "schizophrenia."

 At first, I didn't believe my step dad.  I kept saying, "No she's not, you're just saying that."  To be honest, it was hard for me to believe anything he would say.  It turns out, however, that he was actually telling the truth. I felt like my worst nightmares were coming true.  My mother wasn't physically there for me to run to, even when she never knew that I was being abused.  My mother wasn't physically there to prevent any further abuse from happening.  It scared me.  I was literally shaking in fear everyday I woke up, knowing my mom was somewhere else.  I knew the real reason why mom was in the hospital...and I was the only one that knew, which scared me even more.  That reason was to get me alone and to do more to me than every before.  As a result, I became a timid little girl...more than I ever had before.  I believe she was gone for 4 to 5 weeks (maybe 6).  I wasn't sure because, to me, she was gone for many years.  I really, at that point, wished I was dead.


Abuse - TRIPLED!

Those weeks that my mother was gone was a living Hell.  In reality, Hell is 100,000 times worse than what I was going through.  But if I thought Hell could be compared in any way, the time that I spent in my mother and step father's bedroom (while my mother was gone), then those moments would have been the peak of Hell.  Because it was those moments that I wasn't just being molested and forced to "grind" against my step dad.  I was being raped and having intercourse with my step dad.  I hated every moment from when my step dad took me out of my own bed to be in his.  He would make me spend the whole night in his and my mothers bedroom.  The wholenight.  I would beg him to let me go, but every time I pleaded with him to let me go...it would entice him to make me stay longer.  I felt even more like a sex slave.  I had no rights to my own body...my rights belonged to him.  If I fought him, he would fight me back.  I remember a time that I kicked my step dad in between the legs when he was naked on top of me...and he smothers my head into the pillow, while beating me....and I was begging and crying for him to stop.  For two weeks, I went to my high school everyday with a none stop, pulsating headache...bruised from that night of him hitting me.

Every night, while my mother was gone, I had to go to my step father's bedroom and preform any sexual act he wanted.  I did everything he wanted me to do, including wearing my mother's lingerie (which I didn't fit into) that she had bought a long time ago.  I felt so miserable.  I thought that it would never end.

I Attempted Suicide

One night, during those weeks that my mother was gone, my step dad came and got me out of my room (after he knew that my brother and sister were asleep) to go into his bedroom...again.  As I was half-asleep, thinking that maybe he would skip a night, I reluctantly get out of bed to follow him.  Just before I walked out of my bedroom door, the thought came across my mind:

"Well, if I kill myself, I won't have to go into that bedroom and have sex with him.  He wouldn't hurt me anymore..."

I blacked out, after that......

Suddenly, I found myself falling down the stairs. I fell all the way down the first half of the stairs and hit my head hard against the wall of those stairs.  I was seeing black spots and my neck and back felt like they were in the worst condition than I possibly thought they could.  And for a split second, everything was pitch black and I felt as though I was floating above my body.  It was only a second, though.  Then, in an instant, I was fully awake and alert and saw my step dad walking down the stairs to get me.

"You did that on purpose," He said to me, in a hostile voice. 

"No I didn't. I don't know what's going on," I lied.

Well, you would think that if someone were to try such a feat, like suicide, everything else would come to a stop...like my abuse.  Instead, my step dad persisted to come with him to the bedroom...where he had sex with me.  I learned, at that moment, that me "attempting suicide" would not stop him from getting what he wanted.  Though I still felt like I wanted to commit suicide...I felt like "nature" should be the one to kill me.

Visits To My Mother In The Hospital

This is important because I want everyone to see what I mean when I became "like a little girl".  Visits to my mother, while she was in the hospital, was like going to DisneyWorld for me.  I was always excited to see my mother, but being away from her around that time was like being lost at sea for many years...which was exactly the way I felt.  Whenever I would see her walk into the room and she came over to sit with me, my brother, my sister, and my step father at the area we were at to visit her...I would go over to her side and lay my head on her lap.  I felt like I was four years old again.  I kept saying things like "I love you, Mommy" or "I miss you, Mommy." I missed her very much.  She was the only protection I had and she was forced to be in a place that she didn't belong to.  I was a 16 year old girl acting like a girl in preschool.  And you could imagine how devastated I was when we had to leave...and she couldn't come with us.


I Attempted Homicide

Now, it was becoming a custom that I would go into that bedroom...but I had learned to focus on other things, while the abuse was happening.  I would focus primarily on school.  I focused so much on school that I was on the honor roll list.  So while I was being abused, I focused on homework I had to do...or what things I liked to do in after school activities that I was a part of.  I was a part of many school clubs so I would have reasons not to go home.  I loved school because it was home "especially" away from home.  I would think of being in one of the clubs or one of my classes, picturing myself getting lost in books...or what particular club was going to do the next time I met with them.  When I was aware of what was going on, I was screaming on the inside for someone to come rescue me.

After daydreaming about school, one day while I was being abused (on a Saturday morning), I went back into reality where I was naked and my step dad was naked on top of me.  I was absolutely disgusted at what was happening.  Now, remember, I learned something new about sex when my step dad would abuse and rape me so what I saw next was the icing on the cake.  To be forward, and I apologize for the disgust of the matter, but my step father had an orgasm on my stomach and I was so shocked, so disgusted, and so petrified that I blanked out for a second.  And all I kept thinking was "I'm going to kill him, now...I'm going to kill him, now."  Any compassion or pity that I would have for my step dad were gone.  I also stopped caring about life or death at that point and I felt the only importance left in life was to kill my step dad...right then!

I went into a catatonic state...I was no longer, at that point, Amber...

...I was something else...

My step father and I sat up from the bed and he was telling me that he deserved to die.  He also told me that I could do it, if I wanted, if it would make me feel better for "hurting me."  In all honestly, he's said things like this before...which would always make me feel guilty for thinking hateful things about him.  I would always tell him, "No, Dad.  I don't hate you or want to hurt you."

The comments he would make after he abused me would be a way for me to feel sorry for him.  It was a way for him to manipulate me into trusting him again...so by the next time, it would happen all over again.

But at this point...that tactic wasn't working for me.  When he told me that I could "take his life" because "he didn't deserve to live," I just agreed with him and said, "Okay."

I got up from the bed and I was looking around the room for something that would definitely kill my step dad. My step dad laughed to himself and told me that I don't have the heart to kill him.  He was wrong, though.  He was very wrong.  I was, actually, looking forward to the moment when I would look into his eyes and watch him die.

I suddenly got excited when I saw one of his belts laying on the floor.  To me, it was a perfect tool to kill my step dad with because I could watch him slowly die, as I was choking him to death.  I grabbed the belt off the floor, walked over to my step dad, and slowly wrapped the belt around his neck...put the end of the belt through the hoop of the buckle and adjusted so it was snug against my step dad's throat.  To my surprise, my step dad was allowing me to do it...mainly because he thought that I wasn't capable of killing him.  He just sat there with a smirk on his face like I was being silly.

Then, suddenly, I tightened the belt around his neck as hard as I could and I watched that smirk my step dad had disappear...and fear took place in his eyes.  I started strangling him with that belt and for that moment, I felt like I had power.  My step father's eyes were almost bulging out of his head...and his arms were waving in every direction.  His head started turning from red, to purple, to blue.  I was laughing on the inside.

As I watched him slowly lie down on the bed, as I was strangling him, I knew what it felt like when a serial killer had his fun on his victims.  I felt dark...but I felt good, as well.  It was like me listening to my heavy metal music...but it was an ultimate high that I could not explain.  All the adrenaline was rushing through me like I was driving in a car 200 mph. Or I felt like I took a lethal dose of cocaine and I was shooting that stuff up in my system.  For me at that time, it was a spiritual experience for me.  It was definitely a rush.

Here is where God first intervened in my life...

Just when I thought that I was having fun watching my step dad die slowing, I felt a heavy, yet peace presence, come over me...and a man's voice shouted in an authoritive tone saying,

"Amber, STOP!"

It startled me because I thought there was someone else in the room...but I didn't want to lose my focus, at first.  I looked from the corners on my eyes...from the left to the right.  No one was there.  At first, I had no idea who it was and thought I might be getting crazy.  As I was thinking about who's voice I was hearing, I felt conviction sweep over like a veil.  I felt the guilt of attempting to kill this man.  I looked at my step dad and saw the belt that I was using to strangle my step dad.  I felt peace, but at the same time disgust at what I was doing.

As I was sitting there, feeling guilty for what I was doing...I felt that voice grip my soul, telling me, "This is not who I want you to be."

I loosened my grip from that belt and loosened the belt from around my step dad's neck.  My step dad took a big gasp for air.  I didn't want my step dad to know that I heard that voice, telling me to stop.  Instead, I made it seemed like I was still wanting to kill my step dad.

I pulled my step dad towards me, looked him straight in the eyes and told him, "If you ever do this to me again, I'll kill you." He said to me, with fear in his voice, "Okay, okay, okay!"

I took the belt off his neck and let him go.  And like the coward he was, He lunged for me and started strangling me with his bare hands.  While I was gasping for air, I still didn't have a care what would happen to me.  At the same time, however, I knew that nothing serious would happen to me...and that everything would be okay.

"Don't you ever threaten my life again, *****!" He warned me.  All I told him was "Go ahead, kill me.  Because I don't care anymore." He let me go and pushed me into the floor.

At that time, I thought that maybe that voice was something I was hearing because I was losing my mind.  I didn't find out, until later, that the voice that had intervened and stopped me from doing something I would regret later....would be the voice of God.


After those weeks have passed, my mother came home and going to that bedroom stopped.  I could not have been more happier.  My mom was able to make it home for Christmas, which was really special for me.  After Christmas came New Years and after New Years came the month January...which would be the beginning of the END of my abuse...

..And how God played a HUGE role of his divine plan for my life!


My Story: Part 5

The month of January in 2004 was perhaps the longest month for me.  The whole month felt like a grand-span of six months. At the high school I was attending in Delaware it became a routine that I would go visit with the school counselors, everyday.  Even though I made really good grades, I would miss my fourth period class (most days) to go and talk to these counselors.  Sometimes I would just sit in their offices and drink green tea...a drink I would always get while visiting their offices.  When I would visit their offices, I did not want to tell them fully about my situation at home...so I would use other circumstances in my home life to express how I was feeling within myself.  And since I was so use to being told that I was taking my mother's past as my own, I would talk about the abuse my mother went through...along with how my step father would talk to me.

Even though I would talk about the way my step dad talked to me and be explicit about my mother's past, the way I was told about it...I was always "hush-hush," so to speak, when it came to my abuse.  I had not once told them that my step dad was having sex with me or that my step dad would beat me if I tried to defend myself.  I just want to add that for any counselor or therapist that I had seen throughout my lifetime, they were not the ones that helped me overcome my situation and my "aftermath" of the abuse.  They were only there for me to talk to...and that was it.

There was only one person that helped me overcome everything... Jesus was the one who took me out.


After, one night, of giving my step father a "sexual favor" in order to make up for being a rebellious teenager (according to my step dad)...I went up to my bedroom, when it was time for me to go to bed, and I broke down in tears.  

I had enough.  

I laid there on my bed reflecting on every situation where I was abused.  I recalled the time when my step dad told me, after making me have sex with him down in our basement, that when I turned 18 years old that he was going to divorce my mother...and marry me.  As I sat and reflected on that comment, my stomach felt like it was going to come out of my throat.  I remember even being disgusted when I first heard it.  I remembered another situation where I resorted to acting like a little girl, while I was a teenager being abused, pleading with my step father saying, "Daddy...please stop? I beg you...don't you see me as your daughter."  I also remembered, that same moment, that he thought it was "arousing" that I was calling him "Daddy" while he was forcing himself to have sex with me. Again, I felt disgusted and betrayed.

I remembered when I was laying in my bed...and my little sister, who was 5 or 6 at the time, crawled into bed with me because she had a nightmare.  She wanted me to keep her safe from the monsters in her dream.  So I let her sleep next to me in my bed.  After a while of her being asleep, my step father came in the bedroom.  He kneeled down beside my bed, with my sister sleeping right next to me.  I begged him, "Please don't do this with her being in the bed with me Please don't do this"  He just responded, don't worry...I won't wake her up.  He fondled me right there...with my little sister laying there, sleeping peacefully.  I thought, "How could he do that with his OWN DAUGHTER laying right there next to me?!  How could he?!"  I thought to myself that if he didn't care that my little sister, HIS daughter, was laying there next to me while he was abusing me...he would do the same to her if I were to go off on my own or go off to college.  

...I could NOT let that happen.  That thought resignated in my mind and it echoed through my thoughts like someone speaking loudly in a museum.

Here's another thought I had...if I were to say anything, like I had in the past, it would all get turned around on me again just like it did over and over again the last three times that I had said something.  I would get accused of making up the story or, like always, that I was delusional and I was putting myself in my mother's past.  Afterall, that one therapist in Houston, Tx said that  was so...so it must be true, right?  I knew it wasn't, but no one else could be sure.  

So I gave up...

I gave up on trying to do it myself.  I just laid in my bed...crying and sobbing.  I felt helpless.  I couldn't do anything.  My step dad was such a good lying, manipulative, and deceitful person that if he were to convince people that there was a flying purple dinosaur roaming the skies, the people would believe it.  I was desperate for the abuse to be over...to sleep many nights, for the rest of my life, and not worrying about a predatory man coming into room for me.  I wanted it to be over.  All of it.  The beatings, the sexual encounters, the insanity...all of it.  I wanted it all to stop, but I gave up trying to do it myself.

As I was laying there in my bed, a thought came across my mind.  "What if I prayed."  I still considered myself Agnostic, but what could it hurt.  I had nothing to lose...and I was desperate enough.  So I calmed myself down, a little bit, and I began to pray,

"Lord, I don't know if you are real.  If you are, then I hope you get this prayer.  I am desperate for all of the mess I am going through in my life to end.  I have tried telling people what my (Dad) is doing, but no one really believes me.  I have tried committing suicide, but I didn't die.  I tried taking my step dad's life, but I felt something tell me to stop.  I am at the end of my rope and out of decisions.

Jesus, if you are real.  If you are truly there, prove it to me by taking me OUT of this abuse.  If you take me out, I will follow you.  I will believe you and you can have my life!  You don't have to kill my step dad or send him to jail...if you do, then it's by your will, not mine.  If you change him, that's fine too.  I just want it to stop.  Jesus, I beg you...let it stop.  Take me out of this situation.  My life is yours, if you do.

In Jesus Name,
Amen."


I made that prayer that night and I went to sleep in tears.  Little did I know that my prayer was going to be answered in a couple of days.


Prayer Answered

"Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew (show) thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not."
Jeremiah 33:3 (KJV)

A couple of days after I made that prayer, I went to school that day...normal as usual.  It was an ordinary day for me.  I did my usual thing in the mornings.  I brought my big container full of coffee, brought some type of light breakfast with me to school and I was focused and prepared for the entire day.  Like I said before, school was my home from home.  I loved school.  My first class of the day, was my ultimate favorite.  It was my Drama class.  I loved any of my art classes, but Drama was at the top.  I loved to act.  I've liked acting since I was able to memorize movies, if you remember from the first part of my testimony.  For class, that day, we were reading the script, "Bang Bang, You're Dead" which my class needed to memorize for a grade.  My class needed to memorize that script as part of our final for the semester, which was fine by me.  It was also the class that my best friend and I shared.  Her name was Sara and she and I did everything together, almost.  She, too, had a rough life growing up so it was fitting for us to be best friends.

 That day, as I was walking into my class... I heard that same voice that spoke to me when I was attempting to kill my step father.  The voice told me, strongly, "Tell your friend."  I looked over in the classroom and saw my friend, Sara, waiting for me in the area that we usually sat in the classroom.  I heard the voice again tell me, "Tell your friend, Sara, what's going on with you...and something will happen."

I had told her before, in gym class, that my step dad was abusing me, after hearing about certain things she had been through, but had stopped her from saying anything...telling her that nothing else will happen again.  However, when I walked over to her in the classroom and put my stuff on my desk...the words "Well, my step dad made me have oral sex with him again" fell out of my mouth.  When I realized what I said, I gave a fake laugh.  I didn't get the time to decide whether or not I was going to say anything.  I was like something filled my belly, literally, and the words fell out like vomit.  I was surprised that it came out of my mouth.

"Okay, Amber, that's it!  I'm going to go to someone about this.  This has gone far enough.  Nothing you say is going to stop me, this time.  I'm going to someone, today, and that's it." She told me, firmly.  I tried convincing her not too...and I tried to tell you that I didn't mean to say what I said.  But it was too late, it was going to happen.

Suddenly, my "normal" day became a day of climax!  When I say "a day of climax," I mean that the day was getting slower for me, I could not focus on ANY of my classwork, and my day became a day of being anxious to see whether or not Sara was going to say anything!  

Minutes became hours and hours became days, to me.  I felt as though I had a weight placed on my shoulders...and I felt as though I was sweating buckets.

It was my sixth class of the day.  Math.  I couldn't focus on any of my work, like my other classes.  Instead, I was eyebawling the door, waiting for it to open and one of those counselors grabbing me out of class.  My heart was racing and my muscles were tensing up.  I was scared out of my mind.  I tried to convince myself, "Maybe Sara will feel bad and not say anything...and then this day could be over with!  Maybe nothing will happen today!  Maybe everything will be okay!"

Well, I suddenly heard the "clip-clop" of a woman's high-heels walking down the hall and they were coming closer to the door that I was staring at for thirty minutes.  I started shaking.  "Oh no, this is it," I thought to myself.  I tensed up more than ever before and my heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there and behold was one of those counselors I would see every week...looking for me to excuse me from class.

"Hi, I'm sorry for interrupting...but can I please excuse Amber from class for a while?" I distinctly remember the phrase too well.  It would be the last time I would be in that classroom.  Ever.

I walk with the counselor out of the classroom and down the hall to her office.  When I walked into the office, I saw the other counselor that I talked to sitting in that office as well.  I knew already that both of the women knew what was going on and that Sara fell through with what she said.  I sat in one of the seats, with my head hung low.  Both the counselors sat beside one another and faced me...both were not smiling.

"Well, your friend, Sara, came to us today. We assume that you know what this is about," one of the counselors said.

"Yes.  I do." I was short with them.

The other said afterwards, "We, first, wanted to tell you that this does not surprise us.  You were leaving some clues that this was happening to you.  This is usually typical for families who, for generations, have been through abuse of some kind.  We were just waiting for this day to come where something was said."

"You knew that I was going through this?" I asked.

"Yes, we did.  But we could not take action if we didn't know for sure." One of the counselors said.  "Now, I just want to inform you that we are going to have to call your Mom."

My heart dropped.  "Okay," I said, reluctantly.  One of them got up and left the room to go call my mother.  I sat there and I talked to the other counselor...mainly going over what I had talked to them in the past about and how they came to the conclusion that my step dad was sexually and physically abusing me.  

Ten minutes after talking to the counselors, my mom walks through the office door.  I'm in tears and my mother looks at me and smiles.  She was thinking that it was about a boyfriend that I had broke up with, recently.  They did not tell her right away why she was coming over.  She sat next to me and held my hand.  All I could think to myself was, "Oh great, I'm going to ruin her day..."

After letting my mother into the office, one of the counselors sits back next to the other one and starts off by saying, "Well, we called you in here today because Amber has said some things that we need to share with you."

"Oh, Okay," my mother said, suspiciously.

Before any of the counselors could go on to tell her what I said, I interrupted them by saying, "No.  I will tell her..."

At this point, I could feel my mother's hands shaking.  I turned to the side to face her.  My mothers eyes looked scared and I could see her smile slowly fade away.  I could tell that my mother was trying to be strong for whatever I was about to tell her.  However, I think my mother and I both knew what I was about to say.

"Mom.  Dad has done certain things to me that he has been doing behind your back." I told her.  My mother's voice started shaking and her eyes began to water. "Like what, sweetie?" She asked.  I told her, bluntly, "He's been making me do things to him like oral sex."

I could not continue to tell my mother everything that my step dad did to me before my mother threw her head into her hands and starts crying the loudest I've ever heard her cry.  I kept saying to her over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." But she kept telling me, "It's not your fault."  The counselors told my mother that it was really hard for me to say what I had to say...but my mother didn't let them finish when she said, "We have to leave this state, immediately!"  She went from hurt, to anger and panic.  She was also afraid that she needed to take all of her kids and flee from my step dad.  She knew that if he were to find out that I had said something, again, that he would manipulate the situation or possibly hurt one of us, in the family.

"It's okay, we are going to get through this," one of the counselors said, while trying to calm her.  "Now we thought we should ask if you wanted to press charges against Scott?" one of the counselors asked my mother.

"Of course I do!" Said my mother. "He hurt my child!"

"Okay, well that's what we want to make sure of," said one of the counselors. 

"I need to leave this state tonight, though," said my mother, "I have to take my kids away from him."

The counselors asked my mother if she needed a ride to go and grab my brother and sister out of school, as if to escort her, just in case my step dad came home early.  My mother agreed and the counselors also agreed to go run to the house with us to grab our stuff out of our house.  My mother was planning on fleeing the state, over night.  It was a crazy moment.  My mother went into both my sister's and my brother's schools and withdrew them from class and released them out of those schools, for good.  At first, my six year old sister had no idea why we were leaving so abruptly...but my mom told my brother, since he was old enough to, somewhat, handle the reason why my mom wanted to leave.  Of course, he was shocked.

After getting my brother and sister from school...and getting most of the stuff we needed to flee the state, we stopped back at my high school to sign me out when one of the counselors told my mom that the police were on the phone...and wanted all of us to go to the police station to give them more information to arrest my step dad.  The police needed us to stay in state until they could get what they needed from us and go handcuff my step father and bring him in.  My mother was reluctant, since she didn't want to see my step dad, but the police told the counselors that they would ensure that we wouldn't have to see him.  We agreed and went down to the police station.

On our way to the police station, I would realize that God was real...and that he does answer prayer.

Downtown At The Police Station

It was quite a long evening for my family.  We were at the police station for about five to six hours.  From what I heard, the police officers went to my house...where my step dad was sitting in the living room on his laptop, and was taken to the police station (away from where we were at) and was interrogated and questioned.  Meanwhile, during the hours that we were watching for the police to come and talk to us, my mother had to break the news to my little sister that her father was about to go to jail for what he did to me.  During those hours, we would talk to eachother and find out that my brother was also being abused.  We found out that my step father would come into my brother's room, in the middle of the night sometimes, and would beat on him and physically harm him.  

I also found out that as soon as I told my mother what happened to me, she stopped hearing voices.  The voices that she was hearing most of the time that she was married to my step father (10 years, to be exact), they disappeared.  I did not realize it then, but when I told my mother what was happening to me while we were in the counselors office at my high school...God had healed my mother of something that most people, naturally, would have for the rest of their lives.

God sure was proving Himself to me more and more as the evening and night went on.

The police had interviewed both my mother and I, separately, to get our story and give detail information.  When a police officer interviewed me, he asked me to give detailed descriptions of what my step father "looked like"...meaning to give detail descriptions of his lower area.  It was really hard for me because I didn't want to think of anything detailed about my step father.  However, I was able to describe every detail and every marking that he had.  As a result, the police were able to conclude, after getting information from my mother and information from myself, that I was telling the truth.  My step father was arrested, after being tricked into confessing that he did abuse me, and my family was able to go home that night.

"In my trouble I cried to the Lord: and he heard me."
Psalm 120:1

My Last week In Delaware

There were so many emotions that I was going through that last week I was in Delaware, after my step dad went to jail.  Of course, my mother decided it would be wise if we all waited a month to move. She felt we could get everything we needed in that time so we could make sure we were all set for our new life back in Tennessee, where we were moving to.  During those nights, I would always sleep next to my mom and sister in my mother's room.  In the beginning, I was afraid to sleep by myself in my room.  It reminded me to much of how alone I was when my step dad would come to get me when I was alone.

Like I was saying a moment earlier, God was revealing himself to me more and more.  It would have been safe to say that I no longer considered myself Agnostic.  God supernaturally took me out of the abuse I was facing (by using people in my life that were not followers of him), my mother was healed of schizophrenia when I told her what happened to me, and he was about to do another supernatural miracle.

My mother was really concerned that I was pregnant because of all the times my step father raped me.  I was extremely late for my monthly cycle and I was also worried that I may be pregnant.  My mother ran to the pharmacy and grabbed a pregnancy test and came back home.  Before she handed me the box, she told me,

"Amber, if you are found pregnant, we are going to the women's clinic for you to go and have an abortion."

I told her "okay."  Deep in the pit of my stomach, though, I had a very bad feeling.  Something told me that it wasn't right if I were to go and get an abortion.  My mother, actually, didn't like abortion because of her own personal experiences.  However, my mother was so scared for me that she thought it was the best solution, at the time.  Despite whether if it was right or wrong, I didn't feel right with the idea.  In fact, I was scared of the thought of killing an innocent baby.

I grabbed the pregnancy box from my mother and headed towards the bathroom.  On my way, I was praying to Jesus, 

"Lord, if you say that abortion is wrong...please do not let me be pregnant?  I don't feel right about going to the abortion clinic and need you to comfort me.  You have answered my prayer before and I need you to answer it again.  Lord, please?  If you are listening, do not let me be pregnant! If abortion is wrong, do NOT let me be pregnant. 

In Jesus Name I Pray,
Amen."

I walked into the bathroom and I prepared myself to take the pregnany test.  As soon as I was about to take the test, I started my monthly cycle.  I was so amazed!  Not only did He answer my prayer, but He let me know His thoughts!  I was finding out really fast that Jesus answered prayer...and I was thanking Him over and over again that I wasn't pregnant.  When I told my mom that I started my period, a sign of relief came across her face.  She was happy to know that I wasn't pregnant and that we wouldn't have to go to the women's clinic.  I was truly blessed. 


My Family's Move To Tennessee

As the week came to an end...after having my last moments with my best friend, Sara, as she helped me pack our stuff (as she has helped me to tell people what happened to me)...after many nights of sleeping with my mother and my sister...my family got up early in the morning (around the time of my mother's birthday), ate breakfast at Denny's Diner, and we headed out on the road to Tennessee.  It was a long journey to our destination and we had made many stops.  We would cross the bridge, pass by Washington D.C., we would drive up many hills and through the mountains on the border of Virginia and the tip of Tennessee.  On my way there, I would reflect how God answered my prayer.

God rescued me and saved me from what I had been through.  It had not quite hit me, though, why He did it.  But He did.  Little did I know, though, that He did it because he wanted me all to Himself.  How He was there the whole time, but He was waiting for me to call on Him.

My story isn't over yet.  For in the next part of my testimony would be how I gave my life to Jesus...and how I would be forever changed.

Never to be the same again.

My Story: Part 6 My Salvation

After arriving to Tennessee in February of 2004, I was dealing with a lot of anger and other emotions that I was left with after my step father was sentenced to prison.  My taste in music started to change at this time.  I no longer listened to bands like Kittie.  Bands like that made me feel uncomfortable so I stopped listening to them.  Although I still listened to some Heavy Metal, I found Death Metal to be repulsive.  I couldn't hide in that anymore, like I did when my step father was around.  I no longer "meditated" on music or hide myself in it...but that type of music became an addiction in my life. 

Starting school in Tennessee, it was a big difference going to school there and going to school in Delaware.  Instead of going to school and making good grades and feeling "safe" at my school (where school was home away from home)...school became a spiritual war zone for me.  There were many times that I would make myself sick so I wouldn't go to school.  I started having panic attacks, anxiety, and later (while in class) I would feel manifestations of hands groping and touching me all over my body every time I went to school.  I couldn't focus in class many days because of what I was going through.  At home I still had these problems, but I was "coping" with it by watching a bunch of movies or listening to music on the computer.  A lot of times, though, I wanted to get out of the house.  So I would hang out somewhere with one of my siblings at the mall, the park, or wherever I wanted to go, just to get away.

Another way I would get away, many times, was to talk to a friend from Delaware on the computer through AOL Instant Messaging.  Talking with this friend would take me away from the realities of my own life...temporarily of course.  Sometimes I would talk to this friend on the phone.  I had known this person since middle school and before getting reconnected with this person, this friend of mine use to be into the religion of Wicca...and form of witchcraft.  The times I was talking to this person on AIM in Tennessee, this friend of mine gave up the Wiccan religion and started getting into Christianity.  I am not going to lie, I thought that my friend was going through a phase in their lives...but did not think much into it.  I would talk to this friend almost everyday...or every week at least.  We would talk about a lot of random things...school, friends, and even the church this friend went to.

One day, I was reflecting on everything that had taken place....with my step dad, my sudden move to Tennessee, my life at school, and my "condition" that I was faced with.  I got on AIM and started talking to my friend, who was on at this time.  As I was talking to this friend of mine, I was in tears.  I told him that I didn't want to be other women that I had heard about, who have been abused.  I didn't want to keep trying to find ways to cope with my "problems" and then ending up selling my body, doing drugs, or end up a drunk because I couldn't cope with it.

My friend asked me, "Are you serious?  Do you really want much more and want that all to change?"

I told my friend, "Yes. I really do.  I don't want this burden anymore."

My friend paused for a long time and then gave me the poem, "Footprints" which I had seen before...but never paid any attention to.  I read the poem and I was in more tears than I had before. After my friend sent the poem, this friend sent me a prayer they said for me and told me that the only way that I could possibly have something different was to give my life to Jesus.  This friend asked me if I would like to do that.  I said "Yes" and this friend gave me another prayer for me to say to except Jesus into my life.  I said the prayer and it was the end of that conversation.  Although I said the prayer, I wasn't entirely sure how to give me life to Jesus.  "Do I say the prayer and that's it?"  I didn't have a real conviction...but it was definitely a seed, for which I saw later on.  I didn't know what I was getting myself into...but I would soon find out a little later on.

April 2004:  Rachel Joy Scott

For those of you wondering, "who is this girl?"  I will tell you, but you will just have to continue to read.  For those that doknow who Rachel Joy Scott is, you should know that the events about to unfold involved her...or at least her relative that was there to tell her story was.  It was in April of 2004.  That month I had started my outpatient counseling with a psychiatric facility known as Cornerstone.  It was a nice sunny day on this particular day.  My principal at my high school, Mr. Cordell, had arranged for a speaker to come and speak to the students at the high school.  It was late in the morning. 

Everyone arrived in the gymnasium, where this speaker was setting up the audio before her presentation.  I sat by myself, in the front row of the gym bleaches.  The presentation begins and I find out that it is one of the relatives of Rachel.  I remember her being her aunt, but I could not recall her name.  In this presentation it told of Rachel's life, her spiritual walk with God, her visions of what would happen to Columbine, and her last words to the shooters when asked if she believed in God.  Her story really touched me.  I remember listening to her story and thinking to myself, "I want what she had..."

At the end of the presentation, the people involved with the program was handing out books called, "The Book of Life" and it was a book for teens to reach them for Christ.  I grabbed the book and took it home with me later that day.  I would not realize until later that this book would change my life forever.

Later that night, right before I had to go to bed, I went into my book bag and remembered that I had taken that book I was given by the people at the presentation that day.  Now, keep in mind...my intentions wasn't necessarily to read that book.  I don't think I was really interested in reading it at first.  I took the book home because it was something that I had got for free.  However, I had pulled the book out of the bag and it reminded me of how touched I was on hearing Rachel's story.

I took the book with me out of the bag and sat beside my bed and skimmed through the pages.   The book gave facts on teen depression, from what I noticed, and other situations that teens experience during their years in middle and high school.  As I was skimming the pages, I stopped on this one page...for which I could not find later on after reading.  I read this page and it was talking about Jesus.  This page talked about the price Jesus paid for us.  It said that Jesus knew me before I was thought of.  In this page, it talked about how Jesus knew my struggle, knew my hurt, and knew my iniquity...which, by His own will, took every crack of the whip...

...every hit and mark on His body...

...the crown of thorns He wore...

..the nails driven through His hands and feet...

...He suffered for hours hanging on the cross...

All because He loved me enough to die for my sins.  He died because He knew what would happen to me...what I would do to Him, as a result of committing sins that disobeyed Him.  He loved me that much.  On this page...it told me that most teens are in bondage by what the world tells them.  There is no hope for them.  But there can be.  On this page...I was told that I could be free from that bondage...if I would surrender everything to Jesus.  To call on His name and surrender all my hurt and all my iniquity to Him....and I would be free.

I shut the book and I pondered on that page.  As I pondered, I realized how true those statements were.  I began to cry.  I felt like I finally found what I needed to do the change my future and where my life was leading me.  So I got off the floor, shut the lights off, and crawled into my bed.

That night, I prayed desperately to Jesus.  I prayed:

"Jesus, I want something more.  I have nothing left to give but myself.  I've been hurt and I've done things I shouldn't.  Please, Lord?!  Be the father that I never had...I want you to come into my life...I surrender everything to you.  I NEED YOU, LORD!  I realize that now...I want you to be the air I breath.  Please, Lord?!  Come into my life and let me be yours?  Please...let me be yours..."

That whole night I was awake, I spent it crying and pleading to God to let me be His.  I cried and cried and cried...all night. 

As I was laying there, crying out of desperation to God...I felt something that almost took me by surprise.  I felt these huge, muscular arms wrap around me like a father holding a small child.  They were firm and strong. I looked around to see who was holding me...

...no physical person was there.  I still felt the arms holding me, but I was surprised that I didn't see the person holding me.  Suddenly, I felt a wave come through me...like a massive waterfall rushing down a cliff and hitting  the top of my body.  I felt like I was drowning from how heavy this presence was, but I was in peace.  The arms were holding me even tighter and I never felt so safe in my life.  And for the first time in as long as I could remember...I felt joy.  True joy.  As I laid there, there was a voice that came in almost a still whisper.  The voice said to me, "You will always be mine.  I will never leave you."

I knew right then who it was.  It was the presence of Jesus in my room...laying next to me and holding me.  I felt the love of Jesus all over me...and I felt immersed in His presence.  His presence stayed with my until I fell asleep.  I no longer, from that point, had one suicidal thought...or thoughts of homicide again.  While God still needed to do some healing within me...

...it was the moment that my life was not merely my own, but of the Lord's.




TIMELINE

Step Dad's Arrest: January, 20 2004

Family Left Delaware: January, 27 2004

Arrival in Tennessee: February, 1-2 2004




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