My childhood would have to be one of the most personal things of my past. I was abused, molested, depressed and one of the most unloved creatures of creation. I grew up as the 2nd daughter of a Cambodian family, I had an older brother, and younger sister as well as my mom and my dad. My mom was lazy and never wanted to do anything but lay in bed and watch Asian Drama all day long. She was neglectful and very hard to get attention from. My father was abusive in every way imaginable. One day he came home from work and he saw my siblings and I watching static on the tv again and my mom in her room watching her shows, he got upset and finally packed his bags. Over the years, he tried to see us, but my mom always called the cops whenever he was near, she also met a man who became like the devil incarnate. She turned her back knowing how bad he was hurting her kids. Whenever I saw her, she always had a swollen eye and a bruised face. They were always shouting and fighting. We went to school constantly in pain from the night before. One day, a teacher saw one of my bruises, and she called Child Protective Services and when they came over, my mom made my older brother take the fall while our new “dad” hid in the closet. When they left, he would came out and beat me until I could barely breathe. Then the craziest thing happened… It seems as if he had taken an “interest” in me. He would ask me to come into the bathroom to help him clean it. The very first time, I was blindfolded and really had no idea what was going on. 20 minutes later…I knew that this person was going to be the epitome of my nightmares. It was always oral and hands and words and tears but I was never allowed to say a word. My mom knew… I remember her talking about it with him and asking him to stop and the next thing I knew, I heard a loud smack and she was crying. I saw him standing over her, his face so close to hers telling her she needed to leave things alone and let him be a man because in an Asian family, the man has the last say, if he wants something, he is allowed to have it. A year went by and my 6th birthday was upon us. I remember a lady with a really nice silver car picking up me and my siblings from school. I asked her where we were going and she said that my mom had a big surprise for my birthday. I remember that the drive was long and very quiet. Finally we came to this big building with lots of windows and cubicles. We went inside and my mom was sitting in a chair, crying. She told us she loved us and that one day, we would be together again and that she was sorry. I started crying, not really understanding anything that was going on, the lady grabbed my arm and I latched onto my mother’s arm. I looked at my mother, begging her with my eyes to explain to me what was going on, she turned away and I started to scream. The lady dragged my siblings and I into a room and told us we had to stay quiet. She walked up to me and handed me a doll and said that she was sorry and then told me happy birthday… We went into a foster home, by then I had 2 other brothers from this new “dad”. Only one went with us to the foster home. The foster family we had did not seem at all thrilled to have any more kids. She told us we were not allowed to touch anything outside of the room she gave us, we lived in that room. It had a bathroom, a tv, beds, books and toys. We went outside for 1 hour each day to sit in the backyard and cry and think about how much we missed our mom. My older brother and younger sister fought constantly, until one day, the foster mom told us that if we could not get along, she would separate us. I begged my brother to try to get a long, to make us laugh like he used to. To try to protect us the way he used to. He laughed at me and told me he would rather die. He had developed a hatred fro me ever since we were taken from our mom. Somehow, it was my fault, all because it was my birthday. A month later, my sister and I went to a new family, while my brother and my younger brother stayed with the same family. This family confused me a lot. They ate together, said they loved each other and always laughed together. We took trips and went to church and I had finally went back to school. I grew to love this new family of ours. My sister and I grew close. I started to feel normal, however that is supposed to feel. A few months later…I found out that my father was coming to get us. Ya see, he finally found us and wanted us to come live with him. My sister was ecstatic…Me? Not so much. We had finally found a home that we felt comfortable with, it was nice. But after my sister begged and pleaded…I agreed. I later found out that my dad had a GF not much older than myself, I would say maybe 3-4 yrs older. She became my best friend. My father became my enemy. I turned my back from my sister. My father was abusive and he never let us forget that he brought us out of the foster care and took us in and gave us food, clothing and education. He never knew it was better than where we were living with him. The closer I became to my new stepmom, the meaner I became to my sister, I hurt her in so many ways, I wish I could take it all back. To this very day, I wish I could. A few years later, my dad asked if we wanted to live with my mom, I said no, my sister said yes. Once again she begged and pleaded for me to just go with her and live with our mom. I told her I already had one and that I was happy. She told me she wanted to go with or without me. I had already been separated from my brothers, I didnt want to lose her too. So I left my stepmom and came to live with my real mom. It was one of the worst and best mistakes of my life. I finally confronted her about everything. About the abuse, about how she chose a man over her own kids about how she KNEW he was molesting me and only me about the foster parents, everything. As I grew older, my hatred towards her grew. I started cutting myself. A little bit at a time. I didn’t want anyone to notice. Eventually, there was just so many cuts, I ran outta places to put them so I went over the ones I already had, making them deeper. You see, I wanted to feel something, anything, even if it was pain. I met a boy who made me laugh. A ll the time. But the thing was, his family didnt approve, they wanted him to focus on his studies and church rather than a troublesome girl. We secretly began dating. It didn’t work out. He was never there when I needed him and I felt like if he really knew about my past, he wouldn’t make it. I met another boy. He made me laugh. Even when all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and just melt away. He pulled me right back out. He came to see me every day at home, he called me late into the night and we talked. About everything. Finally, I told him about my past, my nightmares, and the horror that I called childhood. HE dint care. He told me that we would just have to make our future brighter and a lot more funnier and happier. I stopped trying to hurt myself bc every time I did, he was there to stop me, telling me that I was only hurting him more. 2 years of that and he still stuck by me. By the 3rd year, I noticed he was distant. He didn’t seem to want to see me or talk me to me. I found out I was pregnant at the same time that I found out he was cheating on me. He told me he loved me and our son more than anything in the world and that it would never happen again. Over the next several years,I finally realized…that this man…was not the same person who pulled me out of hell but he was a completely diff person. He still cares about me and we are still together. But…I know that for now, I am just a placeholder, until the one person who will come into his life is finally here. To this very day, I know he cheats on me, and still I am with me. Why, you ask? BC he is my shield from the hurt. BC HE pulled me away from the past. BC HE is the reason I no longer have nightmares. BC HE is the reason why I have my son who will never know about his mom’s past BC I will make sure nothing comes into his life but light. And BC without him, I honestly have no clue where I would be in this world. I wouldn’t know how to survive….