Fear had controlled my life since birth.

I don't know why it had, it just had always been that way.

Growing up only being raised by my two brothers,

Surviving off of delivery pizza or maybe it was Digiorno.

My mom did not care, she was never at home.

All she did was work and drink.

Arriving home drunk every night,

but nobody could tell unless I lifted my shirt.

I was covered in bruises.

From a young age, I was taught that the only way to get out your anger,

Was to leave scars and bruises on somebody's body.

But what about when I got angry at myself.

I was the only kid out of three my mom would beat.

Why me?

I left scars all over my body.

Permanent scars.

Nobody could hurt me as much as I hurt myself.

At least I thought.

Days went by and I aged up.

My protectors left my house.

I was all alone.

I found new protection, drugs and alcohol.

That would mask all of my pain that I had ever felt inside.

Except one night, a young woman, at the age of fourteen made a poor choice.

Intoxicated with vodka and ecstacy, she went to an eighteen and older club.

There she was sexually abused, taken advantage of, raped.

That girl was me. 

I tried to tell my mom, my dad, anybody who would listen.

Nobody would.

All alone, I wallowed in the pain and the nothingness I felt.

Everything I had ever had had been taken away that night.

At this point, it was life or death, 

And death looked like the better option.

I was living for everyone else.

Never have I ever just lived for myself.