Ok, so I was adopted at the age of 5. My foster family before I was adopted was amazing, they cared about my twin and I so much and they were fair with us, they treated us like their own and I adored them.. So when it came to leaving, it was very upsetting, but I soon settled down and we saw them every month or so. What I didn’t know, because I was so naive at the age of 5, was that my adoptive parents had dropped our social worker, so that they could have total control of us, so that they could change us to be like them..
At the age of 10, I began to hate my life with them.. The reason? My adoptive brother was sexually abusing me.. I didn’t know it was wrong, and I was scared not to do what hesaid, so I did it. Luckily though, he didn’t take my innocence, although he asked me for sex and I knew that I was too young and was innocent and worried that it’d make me pregnant. So he fobbed me off after that and hated me ever since, I hated him, too, when I learned what he’d done was wrong.. I didn’t tell anyone until I was 16 because him and my twin and threatened to kill me if I said anything at all..
Then, at the age of 11, my foster Father died.. He was the most amazing person I’ve ever met. He died from cancer and when I found out he was dead, a part of me died and I’ll never forget that day, when I broke down, screaming, crying, all the while feeling a part of me inside, disappear..
At that point, that was another person that my adoptive parents (Shana =Adoptive Mother Patrick = Adoptive Father) had off their hands, another person who couldn’t save us from them.
Ever since the age of 13, they threatened to kick me out when I’m 16. Their reason (which they didn’t tell me, I figured it out)? They didn’t want me there because they’re narcissists and they didn’t like the way that I was so truthful abotu them, I’d tell people what they were really like. We’d argue, they’d try and pick fights with me, and blame me for anything and everything that happened, even if I wasn’t involved.. I’d tell people what was bothering me if they asked.. Shana and Patrick didn’t like that, didn’t like people to know they were treating me badly.. To make up for all the things they blamed me for, I’d do all the jobs around the house, I’d talk nicely, wouldn’t answer back, even if something was completely out of order.. It did nothing, they just took advantage of it and treated me like a slave.. They treated me like the black sheep of the family. A 14, I started self harming. They picked up on it and laughed at me, and whenever I cried, they’d tell me “go and slash your wrists you pathetic, stupid attention seeking b*tch!” and I would, purely because all my efforts of things being ok with them were a waste of time and effort. That was when I had my first suicide attempt. I was in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, crying, thinking “why the hell are you crying?! It gets you nowhere, but being made fun of!” and that’s when my first attempt happened. In front of that very mirror.
That was the one thing they didn’t know I did. Then I got together with my ex. He was all up for loing his virginity, I wasn’t.. But he was so impatient, he couldn’t accept that and attempted to rape me, but I was strong enough to push him off – just. I didn’t dump him, because I was scared of what he’d do to me. Then I met my current boyfriend of 2 years. I fell in love with him after asking him to help me with my confidence when I sing. I dumped my ex and the same night, got together with him. I told him about my ex and he was fuming, but didn’t do anything about it, due to me begging him to leave it.
He was upset by my self harm and he made me realise that what my adoptive family and my twin was doing to me was really, really wrong. So, I started to be my own person, I wasn’t going to be a liar and a cheat just because that’s what would stop them from hurting me.. I had Connor there and he helped me when I needed it.. They tried to split us up so many times, told me he didn’t love me, that I’ve got no friends, that I’ve lost them and I’m going to lose him.. It just made us all the more stronger..
So, Shana found out about my ex, and said in front of me and the teacher who told her for me, that she didn’t blame me like I thought she would, she was pulling back my hair and my hands from my face so that she could see that she’d upset me, that she’d made me cry.. She loved to see me cry because she knew she’d hurt me.. Then, as soon as she got home, despite promising not to tell anyone, she told the whole family and said it was bulls**t, so I was deeply hurt and didn’t tell them anything after that.. Not that I did before anyway.
After that, I continued being brought down by them, and continued with the self harm and suicide attempts.. Eventually, after writing numerous songs and journal entries, I noticed that some of my lyrics had gone missing along with some journal entries.. I found them in Shana’s drawer and confronted her.. and she said tat she didn’t put them there, i did so i told her not to lie to me, so she contradicted herself and said she took them to prove how crazy/mad/psychotic I am.. So I said she was a liar and wnhy would I beso stupid to plant my presonal stuff, that I didn’t want them to see, in her drawer!? So, she grabbed me by the scruff of my t-shirt and slammed me into the solid pine/glass door 6 times.. I managed to push her away, but then she pushed me into the corner of a unit and a chunk got taken out of my hip. I ran upstairs and grabbed my phone, because Connor was due to be phoning me.. When I got downstairs, Shana was holding the door open, pointing outside, looking at me.. I stood next to her and sadi “so you’re kicking me out?” and she said yes, so she shut the door on my back and locked it. Connor and his dad told me to phone the police and I ended up staying at Connors for a week, and we made a complaint to social services where Shana works (believe it or not!!)
By November, I’d found a supported housing place to live.. All myself, the only thing Shana and Patrick did to help was just get rid of my stuff by dropping it off at the place I was to be living. Connor and a friend of ours helped me to move in, unpacking the important stuff.. The next day I had college and a performance, so was quite unprepared. I tried explaining it to the lecturer who was organising it and he said that it wasn’t a good enough “excuse” for me not being fully prepared. So I went out and bought the clothes I needed for the performance.
I found it hard to sleep the first night because I was unaccustomed to the new surroundings and tonight was the same. Eventually, I got used to it. After living there for almost 6 months now, they’re thinking of moving me on to a bigger flat, which is good news. But, just 7 weeks ago, I was supposed to be going out with a couple of friends, but the plans changed so I didn’t go.. One of the guys that I was friendly with where I’m living asked if I wanted to go out for a drink so I thought why not? Nothing better to do.. Big mistake. e had my wallet and my keys because I had no pockets to keep them in and he bought my drinks.. I wasn’t neccessarily watching him.. When we got back to our supported housing to go to our rooms, he walked ahead of me, still with my keys and wallet, so I had to follow him back to his room to get them back. Another mistake.. He raped me after the door was closed and I hadn’t even got my keys or wallet back.. I cried and screamed and told him to get off, and he did.. But then got back in aain.. In the end, before anything could happen, I pushed him off and ran out and was sick.. After that, I collapsed.. So, now, all of us who know are guessing that he spiked my drink because one of his friends arrived, who had been taking drugs and possibly had them with him in the pub that we were in. So anything coul dhave happened when I wasn’t watching..
Connor arrived to find me on the floor of a corridr fitting, with people surrounding me panicking.. An ambulance was due to arrive and when it did I was carried back to my room and once the paramedics had left, Connor asked me if something had happened with the guy I’d gone out drinking with.. I told him of course it did, he asked did he rape me and I said yes.. He told me to tell security now, but I couldn’t. I felt so sick, so weak and so hurt.. I was in a lot of pain from the force of what he did.. Eventually, I made my way to security’s office and told both him and Connor what had happened. If it hadn’t been for Connor turning up, I’d have said nothing, no-one would know.. The next day, I phoned the police and told them ad the guy was taken in for 12 hours for questioning and examination.. I was also taken to Yeovil for questioning.. It was horrid, the worst experience of my life. I didn’t eat a thing that day, and we didn’t get back until 5.30pm, so I was exhausted after being questioned for 3 hours..
7 weeks, 2 suicide attempts and 3 SI’s later, I’ve heard nothing from the police, not even got the clothes that they took, back. So, I’m phoning them sometime this week to find out what’s happening, because they said that it would be a 6 week investigation and that they’d phone me each week to let me know what’s happening. Yet I’ve heard nothing for 6 weeks.
So, more depressed than ever and on sleeping tablets because I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since it happened, I’m contemplating suicide every day.. How can they not see that? When I’e told the so many times that I can’t stop thinking about it?! They’re doing nothing for me, the dr’s! I can’t take it much longer, not knowing whether he’s been proved innocent or guilty is killing me.. I have to see him every day at college too, and everytime I do, I freeze and break out in the shakes and I have collapsed a few times because of that. Does that not say something? Does that not say that I need to know asap, so my mind can be ut at rest? My adoptive parents don’t know, as far as I know because they’ll make things way too difficult for me, they’ll start saying I’m lying or something and I couldn’t deal with that too..
I just feel like the biggest waste of space, time, energy and Oxygen, because of all the betrayal and the lies about me and all of the nasty comments from people. I have coped so far, but how much more can I take?