Growing up I was always a good church girl. Never cursed,n ever had sex, never did a lot of things. Until I turned 16, and began experimenting with opiates. I became an addict. To this day, my mouth still waters when thinking about a day in bed with a nice Percocet.
One day, I needed a place to stay and a girlfriend of mine told me to call a man who I had done drugs with a few times. I met him at his apartment and did a few pills and he told me I could crash on his house. When we came downstairs his two friends suddenly showed up. They poured me everclear and all the sudden I began to black out. I knew something was wrong and became hysterical.
The three men carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed. I began to lose consciousness as I begged for them to stop. I remember few things, things I wish I didn’t. I screamed and sat in my shower tearing myself. I was so scared to let my parents know what was going on. I blocked all my feelings and went numb.
I finally told them and found out my mother had been sexually abused. I am diagnosed PTSD and I’d like to think things get better, but I can feel anything even thought I put a smile on and stay disgustingly optimistic. On March 19th, this year, I will be 4 years sober. That gives me hope.