I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 4

The funeral was held on Monday, February 14, 2005. I had gotten to the church early that morning with my sister L to just be there.

The service started and I didn't see Tyler (my boyfriend) or Laura (my best friend) there. I slipped out the side door and tried calling both of their cell phones, but they didn't answer. After a couple of more tries with no luck, I went back inside. As the service went on, I noticed that a few of my siblings were not there either.

I started to get a little worried. This wasn't like Laura or Tyler, and my siblings should have definitely been there. After the service was over, I went and found my aunt Linda. That's when I heard the news.

"There was a car accident..."

I didn't want to hear the words.

"Jake, Em, Haelee, and Blake rode over with Laura and Tyler."

They had to be okay. They must be okay.

"The other car veered over to their side..."

Just stop. Just stop.

"They don't think Laura is going to make it."

My head was spinning. The floor was spinning. The whole room started spinning.

Two hours later, Laura, Tyler, Blake, and Em had all passed away. Jake was in critical condition and Haelee was in surgery.

I literally thought my life was ending.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 3

I finally let my boyfriend, Tyler, come in my room. He held me and let me cry.

My best friend Laura came over too. She brought me a big stuffed teddy bear. She held my hand while I cried into Tyler's chest.

They left around 2am and then Ash's boyfriend, Chris, came over.

(On a lighter note, Chris and Tyler were also identical twins)

**This may be triggering**

I thought he had come over to cry with me. To comfort each other. To be there for each other. But I was very wrong...

First, he led me down into the basement of my house and locked the door. He pushed me down and drug me to the other side of the room. He tore off my pajama's and got on top of me. Then he raped me. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

I couldn't even fight him because I was so weak from crying.

He left me down there, in the dark. I curled up into a ball and tried to cry, but I couldn't. It hurt too much.

He came back again the next night to repeat what he had already done...and more.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 2

I didn't want to believe it.

I cried and kicked and screamed.

I threw tools and cords and markers and parts of the hospital beds.

I tore down the curtains.

I broke several machines.

I punched my cousin until he was lying unconscious on the floor.

They took me to the psych ward.

I beat the crap out of the padded room they put me in.

I cried and cried until I finally fell asleep 28 hours later.

They let me go home.

I didn't want to talk to anybody or see anybody.

I didn't want to eat or sleep or drink.

I didn't want to breathe.

Ash had suffocated to death. Why should I be breathing?

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It...

We were up in Washington for a big family event. Most of my siblings, many of my cousins, quite a few uncles and aunts. We rented out the entire hotel. Ash and I were sharing a room.

Ash had a hole in her lung because of our biologial father stabbing her, so she had to do breathing treatments twice a day to make sure fluid stayed out of her lungs - once about an hour after she woke up and once during the night, around midnight.

After we had been there a couple of nights, Ash started to act a little abnormal. She kept telling people how much she appreciated them (quite a bit more than normal) and she kept hugging me and spent almost every waking moment with me.

We went to sleep that night as usual, and around midnight Ash's alarm went off to do her breathing treatment. I sat up and waited for her to be done and then laid back down and went to sleep.

Around one o'clock I heard these awful sounds coming from the other side of the room. But I was too tired to try to figure out what it was. About two o'clock and I woke up again, and again I could hear these awful sounds. Three o'clock came and the awful sounds were so loud that I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed and stumbled to the other side of the room.

I found Ash on the floor, completely black and blue and very swollen.

I screamed and ran out of the room, down the hall, to our aunt's room. I banged and kicked on the door, screaming as loud as I could. I was crying so hard that when she opened the door she couldn't understand a word I was saying.

I managed to get her back to my room. She called 911 and within 4 minutes they were there, loading her into the back of the vehicle. I rode with her to the hospital.

When we got there the doctors tried prying me away from her but they couldn't get me to calm down. My aunt begged them to let me go with Ash because she knew I wouldn't be okay without her.

They went into immediate surgery. Both of her lungs had collasped.

I held her hand the entire time.

Three hours later, she was hooked up to a life machine. All I can remember doing is lying next to her and sobbing "don't leave me, please. don't leave me."

No one else was allowed in the room because of her condition.

The doctors kept telling me that she just needed to get through this little bit and then she would be fine. But two hours later, she was slipping away.

They pronounced her dead at 11:03 am on February 10, 2005.

To be continued...

It Was Never Truly Over - Part 3

**This may be triggering so please proceed with caution**

The first time I saw my mother put my two year old sister in the kitchen oven, I passed out. I had only ever known my sister and I to be the ones to be abused in any situation. This single event made me wonder if there was any good in the world.

My second oldest brother, K-2, would trap me in a corner of the house, grab me, and then take me downstairs where he would duct tape me to a chair. Sometimes his friends would come over and join in with him. They called me crude names and took turns fondling me. Sometimes we would be down there for hours.

The church my new parents were members of taught beautiful things, I just couldn't ever believe them. They said parents were good and taught their children well. They were protectors from evil and were there to show you the good. They never hurt you and would listen to what you had to say. All of this was a load of crap, in my mind.

The only parents I had known had hurt me in more ways than anybody could ever imagine.

There was one boy my mother sold me to who did not force me to have sex with him. Instead, he held me and let me cry on his shoulder. He told me he would tell my mother we had done it so I wouldn't get into more trouble. I later found out that his father had forced him into this and he didn't want to hurt anybody. He was only my age.

It is all scattered and coming back to me in fragments. It is very hard to talk about and yet I feel this overwhelming need to tell because I can. I have that right now that I didn't have before.

Packing Up For The Weekend

My session with therapist this morning was very draining and I don't much feel like continuing my last post right now.

My husband wants to take our family up to the mountains this weekend. I must say that I am very relieved and excited for this trip. This also means no Internet so no use taking my laptop!

Is it normal to feel like you have no time in your sessions with your therapist? I feel like I get there and then I'm already leaving. Where does the time go? Before I just thought it was me "zoning out" and not wanting to be there but now I find it slightly annoying. Therapist tells me that my personalities are talking with her, which is good right? Sometimes I wonder if it is a load of crap as she sucks the money out of me each time. She's a great therapist though, so I don't think she would do that. I just want to know what is going on!

I better get to packing...we will be leaving in a few hours. I hope you all have a superb weekend!

It Was Never Truly Over - Part 2

**This may be triggering so please proceed with caution**

The first few weeks in this new home was very strange. There was always at least three other people with you at all times. There was constant noise. We had to learn ASL (American Sign Language) to communicate with our new sister who was deaf. We had to go through the testing process in the public system to see what grade we were to be placed in. Religion was thrown at us from the beginning and before we knew it we were baptized into a church we knew nothing about. Everything was very overwhelming and I was not coping well at all.

Ash seemed to fit right in with everyone. They all loved and adored her. I wasn't jealous of her because I didn't want to be the center of attention and I didn't trust anybody but her.

About a month after living with our new family, we learned of the cult our new mom was a part of. I am not sure what they did with the younger kids that were brought to them, but with the older kids they sold them for sex. I soon became the most requested girl among the cult and in the small town we lived in. For whatever reason, our new mom kept Ash from this evil. In our mom's eyes, Ash was the perfect one who should not be touched.

This is really difficult for me to write and I am leaving so much out because it is so difficult.

Sometimes at home, our mom would force one of our brothers to rape me. Mom would also tie us up in the basement for days without food or water and without clothes so we would get very cold and weak. Mom separated Ash and I so we did not share a room anymore. That was the first time I had ever contemplated suicide. There was no way I could survive without my sister.

We were placed in the 6th grade when school started in the fall. We were at a charter school in the neighboring town. That was where I met Bee. She came up to Ash and asked if we would like to play tetherball with her. Ash of course said yes right away. I hung back and did not want to talk to Bee. Ash talked me into coming and watching and I reluctantly agreed. Bee and Ash became best friends almost instantly, and Bee would constantly try to get me to talk to her or play with her but I couldn't. I didn't have enough in me to trust anybody else. Every night, Ash would sneak into my room after everyone else had gone to sleep and she would tell me how good of a friend Bee would be for me. That I should trust her.

About a year after we had first met Bee, I finally started responding to her when she would talk to me. By that time, Ash and Bee were best friends. I started to want another friendship like that.

In the middle of our 7th grade year, we had to move. We moved to a different state to another very small town. The abuse got much worse after that.

To be continued...