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I was scared of the move. I had lived with my stepfather's abusiveness for four years by now. I knew he was able to make a great first impression. It seemed most people we knew liked him… all the people we knew before him couldn't stand him, but were gone from our lives… he had managed to remove my mother from all of her friends from before we knew him… now he was moving us to a place where we knew NOBODY! That scared me. I had heard that abuse gets worse when the abuser is able to fully isolate their victims… the only worse it could get was beating us up… I had convinced my self it was "OK"'what he was doing to me, because who cares about me, and if he is abusing me, then he has his victim and so he won't bother any body else… (how decieved and proud to think that way). The way my brain was working doesn't make sense to me either anymore, it wasn't OK, like I let him do what he wanted, I faught and screamed and hit and kick every time I could. But somehow I comforted myself with the idea that maybe I was protecting the world from him by giving him a victim… but moving… to a place where I knew nobody, had no place to escape… what was I gonna do?!?!??
I had two offers to stay with people, but that would have meant sleeping on the floor… and then what after High School… I had to go. I knew it down deep inside I was supposed to go with my parents.
Made some special memories with some special people that summer…

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