When I age 5, I remember my dad hitting me for no apparent reason. I was forced me to hide underneath furniture (like the dining room table) for safety. My mom always looked on and never said or did anything when I was attacked. At the age of 8, it got so bad that I moved in with my grandparents (my mom's parents). In the fall of 1985 (when I was 9), my Grandma died from cancer and I took care of Grandpa and household duties the best that I could. I felt Grandpa's House was my safe haven. Grandpa told me that he would always protect me and that I would be safe at his place. He died in 2003.But before that, when I was 15 in 1990, while visiting my parent's house my dad bit me in my left shoulder. My mom covered the attack by putting me in the hospital saying I was depressed and "mental."  She promised the violence would never happen again, but it did. The staff wanted to put me in foster care and I wish I had taken them up on the offer. But my mom begged for me to not to enforce child abuse charges against her and my dad because she would lose her government job. She was the sole financial provider at the time and encouraged me to speak to the staff to discourage charges and foster care. So I did what my mom requested, and I greatly regret it. In 1997, my brother followed my dad's footsteps and attacked me in my apartment, threatening me with a knife. Due to my mom's and brother’s police connections, the charge was dropped to disorderly conduct.

In 2011, I moved into my childhood bedroom with my then fiancée and my dog due to avoid being homeless due to the harsh economy. In Nov of 2011, we got married. My family did not acknowledge our marriage. We never received a congratulations card or a wedding gift. About a month later on the day before Christmas Eve, my life changed forever and will never be the same. We both were attacked, and my mom looked on and said or did nothing again (just like the last 30 years). I physically witnessed my dad attempt to stab my husband in the side with a screw driver, and my brother attacked me, slamming me down onto the living room floor while threatening me by waving a blue handled knife in the air. Worse, we had just learned a few days earlier that I had gotten pregnant on our wedding night.

Christmas Eve arrived and my husband and I were in jail falsely arrested because of my Mom's political connections and my brother's friends on the police force covering things up for him. The charges against me were dropped and I was released on the 24th. The charges were reduced to two disorderly conducts for my husband although he was innocent. He sat 30 days until I could afford to make bail. I had to sell my wedding ring and confirmation rings to make bail of $500. We missed our first Christmas and New Years together as a married couple as well as his birthday in January.

I worked for my Mom's business for over four yrs. Because I had called 911 to report the attacks, she fired me on Christmas Eve after she picked me up from jail. (I had no record with the law only a $10 seat belt violation in the last decade.) I was forced to spend my Christmas Eve homeless alone while my husband was in jail as an innocent man. My frozen tears were attached to my face like ice. It was in the 30's outside and I was leaning against the gas station wall for warmth. Had to leave our dog behind and come back for her. Cars drove past me and did not acknowledge me outside freezing. Then one man stopped to gas his SUV up and asked if he could help. He looked a lot like my husband. On December 26th with a sprained ankle I walked approx 5 miles to the nearest taxi pick-up to be taken the the next town 10 minutes away. There I was greeted with a bus driver (the old high school football coach) who knew my late aunt and my late cousin. He drove me another 10 miles away from where I was attacked so I would be safe and shared his great memories of Shirley and Oscar.

It was then that I realized that my late Aunt Shirley was my Guardian Angel. She opened the doors for me to reach safety against all odds. Her late parent's church paid for my hotel room although my grandpa and step-grandma have been dead since the 1980's.

In May 2012, is when a piece of me died. During a routine ultrasound, the doctor said our baby had no heartbeat and that I would have a miscarriage. In June, I went to my primary doctor about a month after my miscarriage because I was not feeling right. They took a urine pregnancy test and told me to come back in a month. In July, we relocated out of state for a fresh start and for safety reasons. (I even got a PO Box and a prepaid phone to guarantee our safety.) I was rushed to the ER where they discovered via an ultrasound that our baby still was inside me. They had to do an ER DNC surgery because of the toxicity.

Since August, my Mom has made attempts to have a relationship with me via email, phone, and text. She has not shown any compassion for our loss as of this letter, asked for forgiveness, or showed by her actions that she's sorry about giving the violence towards me a blind eye for nearly 30 years which recently cost us the life of our baby. I doubt she ever will. I am disconnecting our phone number and will get another and will continue to use my PO Box.

This is my heartbreaking story. I may never see justice for what was done to us nor be able to hire an attorney for damages. But what I do have is my life and a great husband that loves me unconditionally with all his heart. It doesn’t matter if I have a dollar to my name. He loves me just the same.

Dedicated in loving Memory of Aunt Shirley, Grandpa Ralph, and our friend Doug for being there in spirit during my most darkest hours and guiding me to safety when I needed help the most.