As a child growing up, my dad used to hit me and my brother. Alot. Hard as well. Whenever he got pissed, he would take anything he could find, pipes, sticks, even rulers. Then, he would tie us up and beat us. Sometimes, he would even take us out to a place to leave us there. But in the end, we always forgave him. Cuz he was our dad. After a while, he stopped beating us. But then, my uncle started taking an interest in me. I was 7 when he first molested me. It went on for 5 years. Somewhere in those 5 years, another uncle tried to molest me as well. I didn’t know what was going on until I was 10. Even after that, I couldn’t tell anybody. I didn’t want to ruin my family. It was eating away at me from the inside, so I cut myself for the first time. Eventually, I became addicted. Then I met a guy, someone I thought I could trust. We became best friends, and then eventually, he asked me out. We confided everything in each other. I was amazingly happy, and even stopped cutting for a while. Then, he started getting abusive, throwing temper tantrums. He hit me for the first time, and I forgave him for that. Then, he started hitting me even harder. I broke up with him. He threatened to tell everybody my secrets, and he did. Every one of my friends abandoned me. Then, I finally started my freshmen year. Life was amazing. I had my best friend back, and we hung out everyday. Then, she found a whole new group of friends and totally change. She became a wannabe. She ditched me completely. I had no one to talk to. And then, I began dating an endless cycle of boyfriends that never stopped, just to fill up the loneliness. I never really did care for them. But then, one day, I met a guy. Someone who understood me, who helped me and almost filled up the hole in my heart that life had punched through. He was almost like my first one. No, better. We became best friends, and talked for hours on end. He asked me out, and I said yes. We were happy for a while then, but I could see whenever I cut myself, it hurt him. Badly. I didn’t want him to hurt anymore, so I broke up with him, and continued on my endless circle of boyfriends. I cut myself so badly everyday, since it hurt so much. The scars were huge, ugly, and everywhere on my arms. I was stopped from doing things I wanted to do dearly, like join swimming team and go to dances. Like normal people. I started dating a senior, and he kissed me in front of the other guy (my ex). The other guy got mad, and punched the wall 3 times, so hard he broke his hand. The name calling started then. “Wow she’s such a slut.” “Nobody likes her.” “She should go die.” “She’s ugly and fat.” These words poured out of my “friends” mouths as if they never even knew me before. Everyday now, when I go to school, I can’t even look these people in the eye. I feel so betrayed, hurt and angry, and honestly, I was going to kill myself. Until my friend stopped me and gave me a challenge. To stick to life for a month, and if things got better, I would never kill myself or cut myself again. If things did get worse, I would be able to kill myself. Without consequence. So here I am today, telling you my story.
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