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My father liked me to be dressed a certain way. It seemed like I always looked like the poster child for an orphanage. Nothing ever fit, and all the colors that was once there had been warn out. Wearing second-hand jean dresses, shoes too big, and always had long ratted dirty blonde hair. I remember being in the city with bright lights and many hotels. A place of gambling and acceptable sin, my birth place Las Vegas. I am in third grade now. We always lived in some sort of Motel most of the time. A room with one bed, a couch and a small bathroom is where the four of us would stay. My dad would have the bed and us three would take turns sleeping beside him in the bed, the other two would be one on the couch and the other on the floor. We never stayed in these places long. It was normal to go from one city and state to the next, always having to change schools and never knowing why. When it was time to move the rule was "If it didn't fit in the car, then it didn't go," needless to say there was no room for attachments to possessions. 

While you walked the halls with the kids when you went to school, did you feel like you were different? I always have. One by one walking the halls with my classmates touching the walls, feeling like I was just there, something to take up space. Even though the buildings changed, and the kids were different, the feelings were always the same. I never got use to starting over, hoping to fit in and make a friend, not like it would last long. I was always a chatter box, being told "you talk too much" as a kid, and would walk with my head down if no one spoke to me. I was different though, a mother was missing in my picture, I always moved every few months, and now my first darkness began to show itself.

My two brothers didn't seem to really like me that much, who really likes to have their little sister tag along on their daily mischief outside the walls of which you called home. I don't know if it was because I was so little or because I talked too much, or both. I use to tell on them if I knew they were going to go walking to my dad first before they had a chance to ask him if they could go. That way when they did as him he would then tell them they couldn't go unless they took me with them. Unfortunately this was one of the only ways I could get them to hang out with me, even if it was a burden. This would make them so mad that they had to bring me along. However shortly after leaving the complex they would always walk faster then me to where I couldn't keep up. By then they were already so far ahead that I had to turn around and go back home by myself. I hated that they did this to me.

I did get to tag along once after school with my brother who was closest in age to me to a store named Vons. I was excited he wanted me to go along with him. I would walk up and down the isles of the grocery store looking at everything on the shelves. I didn't know why we were here, our dad didn't give us any money or a list to get anything. Walking down the isle where my brother was he handed me some candy and told me to hide it, "they would never suspect you," he said. This felt wrong and confusing. Why would he have me do this? Why would he want me to take this without paying for it? Despite my child conscious telling me no and to put it back, I did what he said to do. I felt like if I didn't he wouldn't want to hang out with me again, and I already felt like no one liked me. So I hid the candy inside my backpack. As we were leaving I was so scared as I came to the automatic doors to exit the store. Looking around for employees to approach me, afraid I was about to be in big trouble for what I had in my backpack. However I didn't get caught, and walked out the doors without suspicion. I felt like maybe my brother liked me now, for doing what he told me to do, it was nice to feel accepted. 

I was a well behaved kid at school, always did what they asked, the pledge and morning songs. Walked the halls obediently, and enjoyed participating a lot more then most kids. I mainly would have something said to me if I was talking too much in class. I remember meeting a boy in my class who I just seemed to connect with. He was one of those quiet yet mysterious ones that most people tend to stay away from, not me though. I'm drawn to the unknown. We were suppose to do a creative writing story for class that was fictional. Him, myself and another girl decided to be partners in this assignment. I remember it being dark, writing of horror and murder with an ax, it was quite fun. I still laugh at it when I think about it, the imagination and creativity you can concoct in writing and having someone to banter back and forth about it. Whenever I talked and hung out with him he made me feel like maybe I wasn't so different, and it was nice to escape from the hell that was my own. He made me feel like my darkness was beautiful, even without knowing what lies within. That I could be my silly, dark humors and chatty self and he didn't mind being around me one bit.

Over time it seemed like out of the two brothers the one that was two years older then me was the one who seemed to take the most interest in me. I don't know if it was because we were close in age or if it was because I would do what he told me to. One day we had gotten home from school and our dad and older brother hadn't gotten home yet. I remember him asking me if I wanted to try something. He was wanting to play with me, so of course I said yeah. He told me to take off my pants and my underwear and to lay on the floor. Confused at what he was asking me to do, I asked if it was "going to hurt," he replied "no". He then, took his pants off and underwear exposing what was physically different about him. I was scared and afraid at what it was he wanted and was about to do. He then crawled on top of me, and he put his private in his hand, spread my legs and he tried to stick it into mine. "OW!" I yelled as he tried. "It hurts!" He would tell me it would only hurt for a little bit, and then it will feel good. As he continued to try putting his private inside me I remember looking at the door way of the bedroom hoping someone would come home and stop him. Seeing that no one was there, I finally found my voice and told him it hurt too much and to stop. Though he was unsuccessful to penetrate me, he finally stopped. He then told me that if I said anything to anyone I would get into big trouble, that he would tell on me for taking candy from the store. I was so afraid of getting into trouble very early as a child that despite what just happened, getting told on about the candy seemed far worse. So I kept my mouth shut so he wouldn't tell on me.

Not long after I remember coming home from school and it sounded as if someone was already home, which was odd. Usually me and my brother were the first two to get home since we went to the same school. I walked into the only bedroom and seen two people sitting up in the bed. One was my brother closest in age, the other, the girl who was my other partner from the story assignment at school. She lived in the same motel complex that we did, but her and I weren't really friends. I remember being confused to see that she was hanging out with my brother. I asked what were they doing, my brother replied nothing just talking. Both of them were under the covers, my brother without a shirt with the sheets by his stomach, and her without a shirt having the covers pulled up under her armpits. To me this didn't look like talking, they were naked. Standing there looking up at them two I was kind of jealous. Shortly after the day he tried to play with me, he stopped and found someone else. It was difficult enough not feeling like anyone wanted anything to do with me and since I wasn't able to play the way my brother wanted to, he found someone that could. 

When one starts to learn of secrets and forced to keep them inside, it starts to do something to a person, especially a child. It starts to fester and build up an emotional turmoil. Constantly absorbing things that are not mentally or emotionally healthy and yet having to continue holding them in no way to release them back. Guilt is so heavy on the mind and body, creates a sickening madness within you and follows you everywhere whether you are awake or asleep dreaming. I remember my father taking us to a place, it was a Mormon church. I had never been to a church before. I remember tagging along walking in between these long wooden benches. Touching the books that were in the back shelves of them, opening and smelling the pages. I don't know why but some smells to me are so soothing. I find when you bend the pages of a book and fan them back towards your face the cool clean and ink like smell that comes from them is quite comforting. We had come across a room later in our tour, but it was no ordinary room though. It had a giant tub, that was filled with warm water behind a curtain. Not like a bathroom though, it was a lot bigger and had chairs for people to sit and watch the tub and the people that got in it. Thinking about it now, almost sounds like this is something that should be intimate and not something that should be on display for everyone to watch. The man who who was showing us this room had spoke to us about baptism, being reborn and cleansed of your sins. I was in third grade and I already felt like I was so dirty and covered in shame and full of sin. Maybe this is what I needed to free myself of all the guilt and darkness that I already had. At that moment I told my father I wanted to be baptized. He didn't know my reason behind it, he believed and said that I just wanted to take a bath, but agreed to let me do it. 

I remember that day when I was baptized. I was wearing a white zipped up gown over my clothes and standing on the outside of this tub that had a step down into it.  Taking the mans hand I met the day before, he was already in the tub and in his own white gown. Looking out over the edge I see my dad and two brothers sitting in the chairs with a few other people looking back at me, but I didn't really want to look at them. I remember stepping into the warm chlorinated treated water and holding his hand and him looking down at me as I left the step. He started speaking words, but I did not hear them nor cared to listen. As he spoke all I saw were the horrible pictures I have already been through. All the secrets and memories I didn't want to be apart of me anymore. I felt so guilty and ashamed, I wanted all that filth to wash away from me, to let go and be clean. To be a good girl. As he lay me back, down into the water I was so scared not having control, to trust someone to do this to me. I held my nose and he gently pushed me into the water. When he pulled me up though, I felt like I was free from what I brought into the water. As if I had been holding my breath for so long unable to breathe. Unable to speak. Finally given that gasping relief when you take that first breath from holding it in, and I felt a release from it. As I stepped out of the tub I felt like I was leaving all that filth and guilt behind me in that body of water and the weight of it all was finally lifted. 


Edited by AReasonToFight


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