Okay, I'm having a little bit of trouble here. What i am about to tell you makes my body tremble in fear of the memories. But here goes: Hi, my name is Tori and i've lived through 10 years of child abuse. don't laugh at me now, but what i'm about to say is true: it all started when i was born. i don't remember too well, but my father said my mother would neglect me. she would lock me in my room and do as she pleased. one thing i remember as if it were yesterday is when i was about 1, i was locked in a room with my older brothe(3). in my brother's closet, there was a staircase that led to the basement and he decided to investigate. i was left alone for maybe 10 minutes when our mother heard him in the basement, went and got him, and put him back in the room with me. Well, soon my dad divorced her and got married to another woman. i remeber that she had triplet boys. while we were living with her, we couldn't get up at night to go to the bathroom, or we would have to hold encyclopedias in our outstreched hands. well, needless to say, my dad got out of that marriage. for a while we lived alone in an apartment with him. we went to school (me in kindergarten, my brother in 2nd grade, my sister in daycare). when i entered first grade, my dad had to go back to work with the military. at first, he could come home every day, but when i entered the 2nd grade, he couln't and my siblings and i lived with our cousin. about halfway through my 2nd grade year, my dad met another woman, who he married. for a while it seemed as though we were going to live with her for forever, but when my dad had to leave for the militay again, she would constantly abuse ME. not my brother or sister, but ME. and not only her, but her sons and daughter would abuse me alot too. i suppose they didn't like me because years of previous abuse led to my distrust of all people, even my dad. the irony in all this though, is that they would use me as thier model child and say that i was perfect and why couldn't my siblings be like me and yet they would still beat me. i didn't understand it. if i was so perfect, why hit me? for a while i drew back from all human contact. i locked myself into my closet and read medical encyclopedias. at school, (by then i was in the 4th grade)i got bad grades and acted up alot, but i never got into any trouble, whereas, if someone else did what i did, there was always some form of punishment. as i look back on this now, i realize that my teachers knew something was up with my homelife and they couldn't help in any other way since i didn't ask. up until this summer, i thought that i had done something wrong and that i deserved every bit of abuse that i took, but my youth pastor stopped that belief in it's tracks. he helped me get rid of some of the painful memories, but as i am still shaking, it is obvious that he didn't cure all of my fears. i guess only time and people who prove otherwise can do that.