Overcoming the Torture “Do not ever tell me no again!”
Those are the words that I faintly heard my mother expel through the stench of inexpensive champagne as she incoherently staggered out of my nebulous vision. My stomach began to rebuke the bitter flavor of the Clorox bleach that she just forced down my throat. As I layed handcuffed to the bathroom sink, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit, thoughts of hatred, sorrow, and despair overwhelmed me. As I laid there on the arctic linoleum, I thought I could be the only child in the whole world going through such torture. However, “forty-seven percent of American children are victims of some form of abuse,” according to P. Burrows, a columnist for Newsweek magazine. Being a victim of these staggering statistics invoked me to research why people act this way. Overcoming the torture of my childhood, opened my eyes and made me realize that abused children today need to know that there is always “light at the end of the tunnel.” Until I reached age sixteen, I was a victim of mental, sexual, physical and emotional abuse. By the time that I had reached sixteen, I decided that I had been tortured enough and made the decision to move in with my grandmother. I felt that it was time to escape the bonds of what I called “hell.” It took me about nine or ten years to realize that all of the brutalities that I had gone through were not my fault nor did I deserve that treatment. Prior to that discovery, I had become very mischievous, defiant, and repulsively disrespectful to any, and all authority figures. I was kicked out of school, put into adolescent behavior correctional centers, and medicated to the point of delusional satisfaction. I began to receive counseling from many different qualified professionals for emotional distress. Conversely, I also required rehabilitation treatments due to the addictions to