End my life long hurt.

I was born in the slums. My mother was a drug addict, alcoholic, prostitute and stripper, as well as homeless with two kids, one of them being me. She never cared about me, she would starve me, and beat me. She used to physically abuse me so bad. I was less than six and my first memories are about abuse. She used to throw anything at me. Wet cable cords and she used to beat me with leather belts, not like you see in movies, were it’s like a spank but beat me endlessly. I became afraid and as a little girl I didn’t understand what was going on, and what I had done to deserve it. She never acknowledged me except when she offered me drugs or a drink or to beat the crap out of me. I had a brother, who was a thug and belonged to a local gang. He didn’t have money, and was too young to sell drugs responsibly and wisely so he just was part of the gang. But of course the gang didn’t let him off easy. He need to pay a price, and he had nothing else to offer than me. I was dragged to this trap house and raped everyday for months. One by one they went in and out as they wished. They put porn movies on and made me do whatever they showed. This was serious, I was tied down and held against my will. I wasn’t offered the luxury of a bed and laid my body on a hard floor. My brother just watched as this went on. My screams and fight didn’t affect him. My cries went unheard. So this went on, day by day and no one offered me any hope. I wasn’t “home” too much, I wondered the streets and as a young girl, I was bait for any man that had a penis. They lured me on so smoothly, offering me a meal or something of value. So it was like the gang wasn’t enough, I needed more sexual abuse. What I was experiencing wasn’t enough. So it happened. Random men took their chance and damaged a part of me that was meant to be pure. And one by one, odds stacked up against me. Homeless wasn’t enough, drug addict mom that didn’t care about me wasn’t enough. Starvation and malnutrition wasn’t enough. The slums weren’t enough. My bother beating me harshly and taking advantage of me wasn’t enough. The gang and the men weren’t enough, I had a ton more to overcome. And this was true. Time went by and my pain, fear, anxiety, desperation, and hunger grew. My life sucked. I was threatened to death if I dare tell anyone, plus who cared? My mother didn’t and why would she. But I did, and that wasn’t enough. My tears weren’t wiped or counseled, but flicked off by careless hands. I wore depression as a sweater and nothing guarded my heart. My mother never noticed me. Sometimes I wonder if she ever thought twice about me, if she ever regret it. I guess not. So one day, I overheard some lady say she was going on a trip. I simply asked to go with her, and she told me to ask my mom. I asked my mom, and she said yes. So I went with her. Up until recently, this was my biggest regret, deep down my mother did no wrong, I just wanted my mother to love me and hold me and I wished I had never left if it meant I got to be near her. But i left, and I told the lady what all had happened to me. Before I knew it I found myself at a police station, telling the police all my information and details. We left and I was in another office, with the Lady, and she told me she would be back tomorrow and she never came back. This was especially hard, up into this point I had my mother and brother, now I was all alone. I was alone as in lonely before I left but now it was a horrible alone. One where I was scared to face the unknown. But the pain went on, and not once for moment did it stop. So I was at an orphanage. And that was different. Now longer was I allowed to feel alone, the 100+ kids there experienced the same struggles I faced. How do you live with that? That all of your pain torments so many others. It wasn’t something that I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. So my time went on, and I then I was transferred to another orphanage. I arrived into yet another world, and unknown world where yet again I faced the unknown. Years went by and the orphanage told me I was being looked at to be adopted. What great joy that was! Someone wanted me! Someone did care!!! Say what!!!! Oh my, I felt like a million bucks! So I channeled all my energy into feeling wanted! I was told they were American, and that made it a thousand times better! Americans were seen as rich, or at least compared to us, and America was seen as a worldly heaven. I could go to Disney!!! So they flew from America and came to get me, I spent a few days with them and then I was gone. Again into the unknown! This family was loving and sweet, as well as rich, and I loved it. My life finally had meaning, and it couldn’t be better! But I was deceived. It was too good to true. And before I knew it, my life was worse than it was originally. The family all the sudden stopped loving me and finding my flaws. And my flaws were all the sudden magnified. The mom had some grudge against me. She diagnosed me with Reactive Attachment Disorder. And I had all the sudden became mentally ill. My world turned upside down. My parents made sure I felt horrible about being labeled RAD. I attended specialized therapy for my special diagnosis. It was like all the sudden it had hit my parent “why would we think about adopting a child like her and not a normal one?” “Gosh”I thought, I thought I was done