Chapter 1: Part 1

Chapter 1
Love Lost

Everyone craves love, even those who are loved by family. You could say my family loved me, but it was their love that made me afraid to love anyone.

My parents separated when I was young, and fought over me like a child’s toy. Needless to say, my childhood was interesting, though I was loved.

The Light Half:
My mom worked full time with my grandfather. A woman with no education and a child to think of, she had to do what she could for work. Lucky for us all, my grandfather owns his own business. Still, I didn’t spend much time with her. Five days a week she worked – on her two days off, for as long as I can remember, she split her time between the family and her new boyfriend; they eventually had a new child, my half-brother J. We lived with my grandmother (her mother) until my mom was pregnant with her new child, and my grandmother did what she could to raise me.
My uncle is an airline pilot, so he wasn’t home all that often. It was awful – all the men in my life were part-time figures in my life. Every young girl needs steady role models, and I was at a lack for a male one of any kind.
My grandmother had infinite patience even as I devolved. She was always keeping me in line, and supporting me through all the shit that went on in my life while my mom was busy with other things. I probably owe what success I’ve had to her.

The Dark Half:
My dad was a cocaine addict. I guess in theory he still is a coke addict, he just doesn’t use anymore. His wife was from Brazil and they would go get huge things of cocaine and bring it back to the United States. They had my half-brother K, whom I love dearly. My dad is Bipolar, just like me.
He’s had a ton of girlfriends. One of his girlfriend’s son raped me. Goes to show what kind of girls he dated.
His mother is a hypochondriac that eventually ended up with Diabetes among other things because she ate so poorly and took so many unnecessary medications. I stayed with her a lot during my visits “with” my dad.
K has ADHD. He’s starting to mellow out with age.



Mike and I sit in my bedroom at my dad’s house. It’s Summer, the nights are warm, and we’re talking about the only friend I have up there – Blondie. Mike has a big crush on her. He is trying to convince me to give him her number. I am reluctant to agree, because
I have a mild crush on Mike. Innocent. Harmless.
C walks in, tells us both to get up, waving a knife. We both get up. C orders us downstairs, into his bedroom. He pushes me down on the bed in front of Mike. He looks at Mike and tells him to kiss me, and use his tongue. At this time, I was 8 years old, and Mike was 14. C, 17, goes up to Mike and puts the knife to his back and tells him to do it.
My heartbeat is all I can hear as Mike is forced to kiss me, using his tongue. I feel violated, disgusted, nauseous. C yells at me to kiss Mike back and when I refuse he slips around Mike to hit me, and Mike runs out of the room and out the front door. I feel like screaming after Mike not to leave me, but C is on top of me, covering my mouth with his hand and telling me to lie still or he’ll cut my throat.
My face stings, and is starting to go numb.
He rips my tights, hits me when I resist, and shoves himself inside me. Hurts. I can’t cry, I’m not getting enough air.

That’s all I remember until the next day. No one knew what had gone on except C and me.
I never trust teenage boys again. Ever.

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