How many times did you think "things just CAN'T get any worse"? That's where I was at. Here I was, 15 years old and I hated my father with a passion I've never felt before...or since. I hate my life in general. By this time I had gotten really good at hiding just how I really felt. In my family your true feelings were to be kept to yourself...unless, of course, your feelings were exactly the same as my fathers. If you agreed with his way of thinking then by all means share your feelings. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut or be prepared to have your mouth slapped shut for you.

I met a girl through a friend of mine who was older. She had "the life" I thought. No one to answer to. Came and went as she pleased. Lived where she wanted. Did what she wanted. That was the kind of life I wanted. I wanted to be on my own. Away from my father. And by this time I was starting to feel really sorry for my mother. Sorry that she didn't have enough nerve to stand up to my father. Sorry that she allowed his abuse.

One day my friend and I decided to go out for a ride. I told mom I would be back by 11 and we got in the car and left. That day brought me into a nightmare I will never forget.

We just rode around for a bit and we met a guy that she seemed to like. I didn't realize it at the time that she seemed to like any guy that had a little money in his pocket. I didn't realize at the time that life for her was just using people. She told this guy that we would meet up with him later and to have a friend with him for me. We went and did some other things that she needed to do and a few hours later met up with this guy at his place. 

His friend was a big guy. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, soft talking. I thought he was kind of cute...but then being 15 years old and not really having any experience with guys what did I know, right? My friend and her guy decided they needed to take a ride somewhere and left me sitting there with this guy. I didn't know what to say to him. I was still kind of shy when it came to guys. Especially if I was alone with them...which hardly ever happened. He got up from the chair he was sitting in and sat next to me on the sofa. This kind of made me nervous, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want him to think I was stupid. I know now that if something makes you feel uncomfortable to say something right then. He put his arm around me and leaned over. I told him right then that I really didn't want to get involved that way, but it was like talking to air. Either he didn't hear me or he didn't care. His hands were all over me and all my "no's" and "stops" where going no where. Somehow he got my jeans off and got on top of me. The pain and humiliation I felt at that time was worse than any of the slaps and punches my father had given me. He was clawing at me and pounding me like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow and he wanted to live for today...that moment. When he was done, he got up, got dressed, looked at me and said "Wow, didn't think there were any virgins left in the world". Then he left. I felt so dirty. And I heard my father in my head "You're nothing but a whore and will amount to nothing." He just kept repeating it over and over and over. I grabbed my jeans and put them back on. About that time my friend came back. She didn't even sense something was wrong. I told her I really needed to get home. So she took me. That was the last day I saw her. And I never told anyone for a long time what happened. But somehow a story got started....

The rape destroyed me. I had lost myself at that very moment. Made me know right then that I was no good. I wouldn't amount to anything. My father was right. I didn't deserve anything other than what I was getting and I should never expect anymore than that. I began to walk the path of self destruction with drugs and alcohol. They made me forget. Made me see a different world. I sure didn't like remembering and sure didn't like the world I lived in. Everything about it was evil.

Most days and nights were spent either drunk, high or both. I partied from the time I woke up until the time I passed out. It had gotten to the point where just remembering I had a father made me sit and think of ways to kill him. Painful ways. VERY painful ways. I saw him screaming in pain as he lay there dying. All this made me smoke and drink that much more. Every guy I came in contact with had this illusion that I was cheap and easy. The story of my rape some how had gotten around, but was twisted and bent into me giving it up willingly to a group of guys at one time. So now I was known as the whore my father always said I was. The sad part is, that every guy that ever dated me, never got pass handing me a joint or a beer. But did they tell the truth about it? Why should they? They were MALE. The male species should have never been invented. What do we need them for? Women could do anything a male could do. We didn't even need them for sex. Those women that were interested in sex, had something better. They had toys that the male world had invented out of their sick little minds. But what they didn't realize at the time was that they were inventing something that pleased a lot of women better than a male ever could. (If you notice, I refer to the male population as "male". There aren't very many "men" out there. It takes a special person to be considered a "MAN".) I developed a huge hatred for the male population in general. They, to me, were lower than pond scum and it would take me a very long time to overcome that feeling and look at men in a different light.

I eked out the rest of my days for the next 2 1/2 years. I knew I was no good. Knew I wouldn't get anywhere. I lived in total hell. Then came the day I met what I thought to be my knight in shinning armor. He was tall, good looking, and very smooth talking. He smooth talked his way right into my heart and my wall began to crumble. I let this man into my heart, my head, and my soul. He was my total being. Shortly before my 19th birthday we got married. But I should have known something was very wrong right from the beginning. We got married on a Saturday night, spent the night in a little resort town, then the next day he lets me know that I will have to go live back at home since he didn't have a place for us to live. Even though he told me he did. Lie number one in our marriage. Two months later I told him he had 24 hours to find US a place to live or I was getting the marriage annulled. He did. He even made it sound like a cute little place. Lie number two. We moved into a very small trailer that only had 4 rooms total. No running water and no heat. I dealt with it. Life could have been worse I guess. The first night I was there he said he was going to run to the store to get some beer. I think he went all the way across the country for that beer. He didn't return home until 6 am the next morning with a story about how he had run into an old friend and went over to his house and the car wouldn't start when he left so he spent the night working on the car. Lie number three. 

My days were spent alone in the trailer. My nights were spent...alone in the trailer. Why was I married? And why had he totally changed? He used to want to spend every waking minute with me. Now he didn't even want to know I was there. There I was...again...alone. Maybe I was the one thinking wrong. Maybe I was no good and no one would want me. But why would he marry me, just to leave me alone? I just didn't get it. But I knew one thing, my father was definitely right...I was no good...a person without an identity.