My birth was a burden, from the very start. They told my mom I had a genetic disorder that would cause me to die in the womb or at birth. So low and behold she cried everyday, until I arrived healthy and alive. My mother didn't want me, but the financial advantage of having me outweighed her hate for me. She let me get molested for the first time at the ripe age of two. And this continued for years until I finally told the truth. I can remember the smells and the feelings, the ones she pushed under the rug. She hid this from the world including my father who didn't even know what to do. She was a cop, it's funny how much I hate them still. To serve and protect her image, even when I was abused. She left my dad once, when drugs were riddled in their systems. When he came down of course he was the victim. She took my sisters and said she would be home, but low and behold... I was left all alone. My unstable father put a gun to his head, and when I cried in fear... He pointed it to mine. "Stop fucking crying, I'll blow your brains out to." My ears rung numb with the warning shot to the wall beside me. He put the gun in his mouth and screamed into the phone. God please help me I thought in my skull. The feds broke down the door and took me in to talk. But by the time I was in second grade I knew not to trust. My mother came to get me she had to take me back, I don't why she even did... I'm grown now with many stories in between... But to this day my momma tells them all, "She's dead to me".