Falling Down the Rabbit Hole     No sitcom could teach Scott, About the dram Or even explain the troubles that haunted my mom On Christmas time My mom Christmas crying Got me most of what I wanted how’d you do it mom? Huh, she got me toys I would play with in my room by myself Why he by himself? He got 2 older brothers 1 hood 1 good An independent older sister kept me fine when she could But they all didn’t see Tile little bit of sadness in me–Kid Cudi     I got my hands on some magic mushrooms early August because I guess if you didn’t grow them yourself that was the “in” season that they grew wild. I couldn’t wait to eat these babies. In the bag they came in they looked golden with a little bit of a blue tint to them. From what I had read those were the good ones. I planned carefully where and when I would be tripping because after all my research, I learned that a “good” trip could easily turn “bad” if you didn’t have the right setting and if you didn’t trust the people you were with.   With the plan set up of sleeping over at a buddy’s house later in the week I packed my bags. My eyes were droopy from not much sleep. I couldn’t remember what a full night’s sleep felt like. I believe the last time I fell asleep with no worries on my mind was sometime in seventh grade. Once my bags were packed I longboarded over to my buddy’s house. I walked in and at the time it was about 4 PM. It was me and six other guys. I didn’t really trust all of them, so I was expecting to have a terrible trip, but any trip would be better than living in reality. We grabbed some grub, but I didn’t eat much so that once I devoured the mushrooms, they would come on quick.   I grabbed the vacuum sealed bag of mushrooms and showed the guys I was for real. They looked at me like I was crazy. They all smoked so much more weed before they had gotten me into it all. I thought all of them had seen all the harder drugs before, but I was sadly mistaken. I took some scissors and popped open the bag. It made a loud popping sound like a bag of fresh chips would. The smell was horrible! It smelled like something had died and someone threw it in a bag. I can’t believe I’m going to eat these, I kept thinking to myself.   I grabbed the first one by the stem and lowered it into my mouth. I tried chewing it, but I couldn’t take the taste I swallowed it whole. One down and six more to go. After fifteen minutes of kneeling over the toilet and trying to down the fungus, I was successful. It was about 6 PM once all of them were consumed. I sat around waiting for the effects to come on while the guys smoked a couple bowls on the porch. This was where my anxiety started to kick in and I started to get second thoughts, this was not good. I was about to have a panic attack. After about an hour I started feeling really happy and laughed about everything. “Bryce you feeling it yet?” One of the guys whispered to me.   “Not at all dude, these mushrooms were shit. I got played” I was pretty disappointed that I had gotten played by my dealer but was still feeling really happy. Another hour went by and I was trying to take a cat nap while the guys were laughing and having a good time. I heard my name being yelled across the room, so I opened my eyes and sat up quickly. I looked around the room for a second and saw that the walls were breathing. It was like they were alive. Trees started growing out of the carpet and I was in awe.   “Are you guys seeing this?” My eyes were so wide thought they would pop out of my head. “Seeing what man?” Everyone started laughing because they knew what was happening. I was tripping hard. Immediately I was annoyed and felt the need to go outside. I flung the slider door open to go out into the back yard and laid in the grass. Every blade of grass was tickling my back. I could feel every single blade of grass that was against my body. The next thing that caught my attention was a squirrel that was out. I looked at it and it started to grow to the size of a human. It beckoned me over and I started with a slow walk, but then began running after it. It suddenly disappeared and what appeared in front of me next was what you see in the movies when an earthquake happens and the Earth cracks down the middle. I looked at it for a second and thought, If I jump, I will die.   I was questioning my existence, like what if I was already dead. What if I had already done something stupid during my trip that killed me. I decided to jump down into the never-ending abyss. I fell and fell almost like it was a never-ending hole, until finally I hit the ground. I was dazed and confused. I didn’t know where I was, and I started to panic. No longer was I in my friends back yard, but another planet. Nothing was down in the dark abyss. As I sat there alone, I was able to think about loneliness. Was I exactly lonely? Did I really not have anyone in my life?   In my head I heard a female’s voice say, “You have taken your life for granted, and don’t enjoy it. Would you like to

The Formula for Happiness   Soarin’ Is this allowed? I sure bet my daddy proud A little nigga wit a Shaker smile On top of tile dreams is where I’m found Some figured I was Satan bound Until I came back with a style I found When I’m zoned, I’m feelin’ alrlght!– –Kid Cudi     As days of the summer came and went Eric’s birthday came around. I got together a couple of the guys that I smoked with weeks before. On July 19th I woke up at around 9:30am and wished Eric a happy birthday.   “Happy birthday dude! What do you have planned for today?” “Nothing really, I thought I would just stick around and play video games for most of the day. Why do you ask?” I gave Eric a smile and held up a lighter. He knew what was coming. We didn’t say anything to each other until the guys came over at 10:30. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC!” The guys just walked in and made themselves at home knowing no body other than Eric and I were around. We had been planning this for about a week. There was no way we could go wrong. “So, Eric this will be your first time?” “Yeah, I’m kind of nervous.” Eric has had a history for anxiety, and you could tell it was over the roof.   Knowing this I tried to convince him that it wasn’t a big deal at all. I told him that most of the time your first time you don’t even feel it. So, we grabbed the athletic bag that had the weed, bong, and lighter in it. We made our way across the street into the woods and at the time I was the only one that knew the right way to the top of the hill. The woods across my street was a maze. If you took the wrong turn you would find yourself in three feet of swamp or thorn bushes but coming back here countless times to play air soft with Eric and the neighbor, I had known the way easily. We got to the spot where we were going to light up and let the birthday boy take the first hit. As we passed the bong around, we tried doing smoke tricks like making O’s in the air with the smoke. One of my buddies started coughing because the hit he took was huge. His eyes were bright red after that one which was about his third or fourth hit.   “Holy shit, I’m stoned…you guys can skip me I’m done.” My buddy was gone with the wind. The bong came back around to me for my fourth hit and I could hardly hold onto the lighter I had been so high I almost fell over, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t coming back down to Earth for a while. I breathed in the cloudy smoke and held it in. I looked at Eric and gave him a thumbs up, to the side, and down. He looked at me and said he couldn’t feel anything yet. I remember the first time I smoked ii all hit me all at once, so I told him take one more hit and be done. He did. As we packed up, I was walking up the hill and trying to remember the way back home, but for some reason I didn’t know.   “Hey guys I hope you know the way back cause I sure as hell don’t know where I’m going.” We all laughed. I think they thought I was kidding until Eric said he would lead the way. He was quite a way behind us, so I waited for him to come to the front of our line and lead the way. “So, Eric you really don’t feel it do you?” I was yelling behind me to see if he would answer. “No man, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like, but I can’t feel shit.”   There was a long pause, and everything went quiet. I remember looking at a fern beside me and I started counting the lines on the leaf. I thought that the green that this leaf was seemed more vibrant than any other time. this made me smile and want to kiss the fern. I just rubbed it against my face and smiled. Then I heard what I thought was the funniest thing I had heard in the longest time. “HOLY SHIT! KYLE I’M FEELING IT DUDE! I’M REALLY FEELING IT!” I looked back at Eric and he wore a grin across his face that went from ear to ear. This incident brought everyone’s mood as high as you could get it.   I looked in front of me and noticed that my feet had been walking and I had not been trying to walk. This was the weirdest feeling I had ever had. Before I knew it, we were back on the street across from my house. I didn’t know how we got there, but we were there. At this point I couldn’t even remember how long ago we smoked. It felt like an hour had already passed, but from my last experience I knew it could have only been about five minutes. Once all of us guys got downstairs, we turned on some music. Eric sat in a reclining chair with his eyes closed and the smiled still etched into his face. We all talked about how great we were all feeling and tried to think of reasons why weed was illegal. We started telling jokes and at that point I whipped out my iPod and started recording. We were all stoned cold.   “Hey Kyle, what lime is it?” Eric woke up from his trance and looked worried for a second. “It has only been fifteen minutes since we left to go smoke man. Don’t worry about the time.” “Kyle don’t shit with me. I wanna know

A Psychedelic Summer   The drinks is on me The bitches, the hotel, the weed is all free Get high, I mean so high We don’t see the whole suite Then fly to a level where you gonna need your own key — Wiz Khalifa     My friends and I have always been interested in altered states of consciousness. So, one summer we decided we were going to go out into nature and get the most natural feelings you could ever have with being one with nature. We wanted this to be all natural. We ran across the street to the forest that we would be frolicking around in for the day. We stumbled our spot and took a seat. After taking a seat in the loud forest that was infested with insects trying to make us their dinner, we closed our eyes and focused on all our senses. Right when I got comfortable my friend started jumbling around and I squinted open one eye to see what he was doing. That’s when I saw him slip a square piece of paper under his tongue never even peeking his eyes open once. I calmly asked him what he was doing, and he explained to me that LSD would heighten the experience.   I rolled my eyes and shut them again. I started having closed eye visuals of different child hood memories because my mind wasn’t fully clear of everything, I still was pretty depressed at the time and wanted to find a way out. The first memory was when I was little, and my father use to play soccer with me in the front yard. I was observing this memory from the third person perspective, like I wasn’t really re-living it but merely looking on while it happened. After all of these memories came and went, I was very satisfied with my experiences and I awoke from the trance. I looked around and I wasn’t with my buddy anymore, but I could still hear him. I looked around and saw him talking to a tree stump with his button up shirt quite dirty and his tie flipped over his shoulder. I thought well he must be having a good time, but I wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it for him. I ran across the foggy forest towards what looked like a hole in the ground.   Now this wasn’t your average snake hole, this was a manmade hole with a radius that easily reached six feet. I bent over the top of it scared that I wasn’t going to fall down this never-ending hole into the abyss. I looked down and you couldn’t see the bottom, in fact it looked like it was a black hole. I have seen way too many movies where this was where the main character jumps down and dies. I wasn’t going to be the main character this time, but with a bitter chemical taste on my tongue everything became distorted instantly and the hole turned into a gorgeous spring.   Immediately I jumped in, not even questioning what my parents would think when they saw my church clothes soaking wet. Right before I hit the water it changed back to the black hole like it was rubbing it in my face that it tricked me. As I fell further and further down the hole my eyes were squinted and I was tensed up waiting for my body to hit some kind of bottom. Except I never hit the bottom, I simply slowed down and stopped falling once I came to the bottom. I hovered right above the ground. I was so confused and scared that I started to panic, and my anxiety started to creep up on my conscience. I thought this was supposed to be uplifting and peaceful? I can’t remember anything after that. I woke up in my friend’s bedroom, and he said that I had passed out after he slipped a paper tab into my mouth. This is what started my experiments.  

Secrets Revealed   My face blew up at such a casual sight this miracle is of ecstatic fright they’ll rush above me to oblivion outlining white sidewalks with halogen oh have you ever felt so god damn strong how come it takes some people some damn long he tried to squeeze the lemon juice to rain the citrus drawing out the seasons stains—Passion Pit   After learning that my little brother had been abused by the same guy that had been abusing me for almost two years, my stomach dropped, and immediately felt like I had to throw up. It made me pissed that I hadn’t known this all along. I should have seen the signs. I didn’t sleep that night. I beat myself up all night drowning in my tears. My pillow was nipped over multiple times throughout the night in hopes that the other side would dry by the time the other side was a pool of tears. Maybe if I said something earlier. then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I have failed as an older brother at protecting him. Does he blame me? Can I face him in the morning? These are the things that were running through my head. Some of them I knew the answer to but was too scared to admit to myself it wasn’t my fault.   Weeks after my parents got word of the abuse Eric, and I went in and talked with detectives. We were pulled out of a lot of school to talk to our lawyers and explain our stories with them. When I talked with the first detective, I wasn’t very comfortable, but I got most of it out. I explained that he touched me, but nothing else. When the preliminary trial was coming up, I had to meet with my lawyer more than once and the whole truth had to come out. I told her everything. She explained to me that this wasn’t what I told the detective, and I told her I wasn’t comfortable with the detective, so I didn’t want to talk. She said it happens with every case like this. More and more information comes out every time. Mike was facing many charges of Criminal Sexual Conduct (CSC) of all degrees. My lawyer told me he would be facing minimum up 18 years in prison no matter what. For some reason this didn’t seem like enough time for destroying my child hood, and definitely not enough time for destroying my younger brother’s child hood.   Mike was on the news a lot and every one of my friends knew him as my brother. At first everyone didn’t know what to say to me, but once the first question broke the ice everyone felt free to speak their mind. They asked me what happened and if I knew anything about it. I told them I wasn’t sure, or I wasn’t able to disclose that information. Some of the more popular “Jocks’ of the school who never talked to me would jump to conclusion and ask me if he had ever touched me. They tried to play it off as a joke to get everyone to laugh, and I tried to laugh along, but that only got me so far until the name calling came. Hey faggot! heard your brother was into giving you a handy here and there. So, was Mike a fag? You roomed with him, right? How was rooming with a faggot and getting raped as a surprise for Christmas?   I still felt like Mike was my brother for a while after, so I took offence to the slander that was talked about him. I didn’t care about the names they called me. but I didn’t want Eric hearing them. For around two weeks out of that year I didn’t want to step foot into that high school. For a while I was so confused about my feelings for Mike. I was mad at him for doing what he did to Eric and I. I felt sorry for him for what was about to happen to him. I felt bad that his child hood wasn’t good, and that he couldn’t just live a normal life. But most of all I was relieved that I didn’t ever have to see or talk to him again. It was like the typical cliché used a weight lifted off my shoulders.   The trial was soon coming up and Eric and I were told that we may have to testify depending on Mike’s plea. At first, I was scared and embarrassed that I may have had to get up in front of everyone and tell my story because frankly I was not ready for that yet. No news from Mike’s attorney had come so we just accepted that there was going to be a trial. My parents, Eric, and I were scheduled to meet with our lawyer a week or so before the actual trial. She was going to run us through what may happen, and what we should say if we were called up to testify. We were on our way to Grand Haven, Michigan where the office we were meeting our lawyer was located. It was around a half an hour drive from Grand Rapids where we lived.   Once we arrived in Grand Haven, I opened up the door to the van to get out and the gust of air that kissed me on the cheek was so pure that it brought a smile to my face. All my feelings of anxiety and nervousness soon were eaten up by the beautiful sense of euphoria that so happened to glide through my body. We walked up to the doors to the office and I almost didn’t want to go in. It was so peaceful outside that it almost didn’t seem true. Our lawyer called us in and sat us in a room with a circular table. She normally had a manila folder in her

The Down Fall   I wipe it off on a tile, the light is brighter this time Everything is turning blasphemy My eyes are red and gold, the hair is standing straight up This is not the way I picture me   I can’t control my shakes, how the hell did I get here? Something about this, so very wrong I have to laugh out loud, I wish I didn’t like this Is it a dream or a memory?   I’ve felt the hate rise up in me Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves I wander out where you can’t see Inside my shell, I wait and bleed—-Slipknot   Throughout the summer I was constantly being controlled by Mike. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but deep, deep down I knew what was happening wasn’t normal. I continued to let him buy me things, like a pop at the gas station here and there, but soon it got to be things like parts for my skateboard, and video games. These were bigger gifts he would bring me randomly throughout the summer. I was very thankful for them and I always remember whenever he gave me a new gift, he told me I owed him for that. He began to tell me “This will just be added to your never-ending debt to me”. I would always laugh that off, but soon this would come back to haunt me. Throughout the summer I was slowly getting broken down by this master of my mind. Anything that I did that disobeyed what he wanted he made me know it was wrong. It became so much that all I could do was start to deny everything that I wanted and just start living for him.   Once my first year in high school started Kelly, the girl that I had been going out with for about four or so months asked me if I was okay because I wasn’t acting normal. I shrugged it off and told her not to worry about it, I told her I was just having a bad day. The thing is, I wasn’t okay, and I was having a great day that’s why I wondered why I was acting so blah. I received a text message in my sixth hour that day from Mike saying he would pick me up after school, and that I didn’t have to ride the bus. I got out of school that day and he wasn’t happy with me. I tried asking him what was wrong, but he refused to talk to me. I immediately felt like I was the scum of the Earth. I got home and tried talking to him and he began to scream. “I texted you and you never texted me back! How was I supposed to know that you were really going to come home with me instead of ditching me for your friends like you always do?” I thought this was the stupidest reason to be mad at a kid half your age, but I couldn’t show it or all hell would break loose. “Do you understand what I am saying?” He continued even more furious than before because I was trying to space out and just take it. “Well f**k this I don’t have time to sit here and see you pout like a little pussy. Can I get an apology?” I didn’t want to apologize for something so ridiculous, but I didn’t want to create more drama either.   The emotional abuse was starting to take a toll on me. I believed that I was good for nothing. I thought that everything I did was to try and please Mike, and if I didn’t please him then I had failed. Failing was a very common thing for me in that time of my life. I didn’t have any joy in life other than my girlfriend and longboarding with Eric on lonely days. Having absolutely no joy in your life is hard for somebody that hates to talk about their feelings. I just so happened to be one of those people. I hated to put myself first and talk about myself, I always wanted to help out somebody else and make sure they were happy before I was.   I started to listen to harsher music as the abuse grew. I believe my parents noticed this swift change in the type of music that I listened to, but the first thing they are going to think is not that it was trying to reflect my mood. Emo, Screamo, Deathcore, Hard Metal, and Punk Rock were some of the genres I listened to now. I loved the depressing and pissed off lyrics all these bands had. I realized that they were the ones that actually understood how I was feeling at the time. During school it was the most stressful because I had to try and balance the happiness of Mike and balance my grades. While I was studying for a big test coming up, I was worrying about how Mike would react when he saw that I wasn’t hanging out with him and being “selfish.” When I was hanging out with Mike, I was only worrying about how bad I was going to get yelled at for my shitty grades I had been getting.   There was one day Mike came home shortly after I came home from school, and I remember that I was so happy to have aced my test in history. I was about to open my mouth and tell him about it until he yelled to me to come up stairs, he has to ask me something. I went upstairs and he was in a good mood which was rare for this guy. Mike just wasn’t a happy person. When he was happy you could tell it was fake. “Would you like to go to the mall with me? I have to pick up some stuff at the

A New Member to the Family   The battle loves to choose its fights Collapse the sight of soldiers eyes Bombs cascading over me May my body rest in pieces Spring morning rain Heal the wounds in me On me The battle is won I’m not coming home—A Skylit Drive     After Science Olympiad Mike and my family had gotten pretty close because he was an exchange student from Germany. He has been to Virginia and Mackinaw City He would talk about how the family he was living with wouldn’t let him do anyt11ing. He was very unhappy there. He also talked about a grandson that they had. Mike asked me if I knew him. I guess he was a boy at school. After being shown a rather odd picture of the kid, I recognized him right away. He was in my Science Fiction class at school. Later that year I was informed that he was going to be “kicked” out of the people’s house he was living in at the moment. I asked him why he was getting kicked out and he simply wouldn’t talk about it. He would immediately change the subject or say if was not important. Being the caring family that we were, we offered to let him stay with us for the summer in between my eighth and ninth grade year. We stressed that he had to be out of our house at the end of the summer because our family usually hosted an exchange student each year.   Mike was very thankful that my family had opened up our home to him. He kept going on about how being ” roomies” with me was going to be great. I never even said anything about him rooming with me, but I thought if that’s what makes him comfortable, then why not. To be completely honest I was almost like a little kid being excited to wake up on Christmas morning. It got a little bit annoying, but I knew that his family life back at home wasn’t the best. My new “brother” as he called me soon moved into my room. I was really excited to have almost like an everlasting sleepover with one of my friends. The first night was like every first night I would have with every exchange student sleeping in my room. We talked for hours and got to know each other. Mike asked me how my day was, and I told him I was alright. I asked him how his day went, and he said it was the best since he was now in a house with a family that accepts him. I was puzzled. I remember that night I asked him what his favorite holiday was, and he didn’t have an answer for me. I quickly told him that Christmas was my favorite. Before I could explain why, he shut me down.   “Don’t talk about Christmas, ” he told me. “Well, it’s my favorite holiday. What isn’t there to love about it?” I was shocked how he almost yelled at me in the silence of the night. “In Germany my parents didn’t get along well, and my dad left us when I was young. We didn’t celebrate Christmas like every other child in school.” Mike then went on to explain that he and his brother weren’t very close. After listening to this beyond depressing story of his childhood I was tired so I told him we could continue the conversation the next night if he wanted to. “Okay, bud, see you in the morning.” He said. I woke up the next morning and stumbled up the stairs like I did every morning, but this time I smelled toast. It turned out that Mike had gotten up and made me a full breakfast. I was impressed. He handed the toast and a glass of apple juice to me on the table and told me to sit down. I sat down and I started eating. Mike was staring at me over his glasses that seemed pointless for him to be wearing if he wasn’t going to look through them.   “Thanks for the food, dude.” I already felt like I was being smothered. He did so many favors I didn’t ask for. Immediately, though, I felt suffocated by his presence. He wouldn’t get away from me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him to back off. The next night we laid in our beds and continued our talk from the night before. I asked him if he has talked to his father since he ran away. He retorted.   “That’s another subject you will learn never to talk about,” I felt degraded, almost like I did something wrong. He made me feel like I was trying to make him feel bad when in reality I was just a curious boy. Our talk ended early because it was simply too depressing talking to him about his life. That’s exactly what I told him. He was less than pleased. Sooner than later Mike expected me to hang out with him every day. If I didn’t drop all my plans, I had for the day to do what he wanted to do he got mad. The first time I told him I wanted to hang out with Jared, my best friend from elementary school, he told me that I already planned on being with him all day today. I told him I hung out with him all day for the past three days. He turned his back on me and looked down at the ground. I went to walk past him to get up the stairs and he grabbed me.   “Listen, I don’t give a f”*k what you THINK you’re going to do today, but I would think twice before    you make your decision because now you have a roommate, and that means I sleep where you sleep.” His grip was ripping into my shoulders, but sadly I

I remember nothing but the pain inside my heart. The way it aches & burns & bursts enough to bowl me over into a million dark nights. I have shame to tell you how little I am able to remember. I erase the shame then; I’ll tell you what I can. I remember the way my grandpa looked at me before I didn’t understand what was wrong—when I thought that everything that was wrong was me. His eyes delved into me harder than anything I thought I’d ever known. I didn’t remember him taking my body like a flower just growing—just learning how to touch the sun & unfurl her leaves—then being violently unrooted & flung straight to the dirt & mashed underneath his body, & his hatred. I remember the way he looked at me. I remember the way I shrunk into the couch, the blood red carpet—I remember the blood red carpet, soaking up the shame that oozed out of me, slick & afraid. When he looked at me like that, I thought— he knows. He knows how bad I am; I’ve been found out. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to die; I felt myself shriveling up under hangnail moons & blister stars; I wanted to die. The blood red carpet. Everything in his house, red–& the dead deer he skinned, & the dead pheasant he carried through the house while I cried—I cried because it was so beautiful, & he had killed it; he would take its heart out. He would eat it. I remember the dark. The pitch of it. The way it curled its thousand hands around me & dug for my plush organs; the way it put its mouth over mine—pretending to be soft. But it was too hungry. It was wet, slimy—like an earthworm wriggling over my lips & digging inside—in the soil of my throat. I remember losing my way. In the dark. In the blackest hours, when even the nightbirds are coiled in their nests. Back from the bathroom. I was paralyzed by fear. As if something awful had just happened; as if something awful would happen again; & how could I return to my bed; how could I ever be okay again? & I felt so confused—my bare feet over the cold floor; I remember the thick shadows falling over me like one million malificent shrouds smothering me & blinding my eyes in their hallowed out sockets. Heart beating. Heart beating. When have I ever been so scared. Except the last time, & the last time. & all the other times I don’t remember, & I don’t remember, & I don’t remember, & I don’t remember. I am growing breasts; they are brand new—I am naked. I am under a hot stream of water—I am all nerves, & newness, because he is always coming in the bathroom; he is peeking his head over the top of the shower; he is watching my new body, he is pretending it is an accident. He is coming over to me after family prayers, after we have asked God to be with us; to keep us safe— to protect us. He puts his arms around me, over me; he holds me tight, he holds me too tight; his hands snake down & down. I feel smothered, I feel ashamed, ashamed; I feel smothered. He touches me this way in front of everyone. He kisses me in the morning, my new breasts peaking out against the thin fabric of my nightshirt. This is something I remember just now, as I write this story. I remember it with a shock. The shirt is red, my legs are bare. We are in the work room, with the ugly, bare floors—the ugly ceiling with its cloistered eyes watching. He kisses me on the lips—he tries to brush it off, like it’s nothing; an accident. I am confused, & in my confusion, my brain flips the switch to forgetting. When he puts me on the horse, when he helps me up—he puts his hand on my vagina. This is something I don’t remember at all; this is something he tells my mom he did; something I’ve surely misinterpreted, he says. He takes me to work. I remember this. He has famished colleagues. He has taken my Aunt to work before. They have passed her around the room, & each had their way with her. Hurt her, raped her. My grandpa has sold her for money. This is something not many in the family believe. They find her an hysteric sort; damaged. But I believe her. Because he took me to work, too. He shows me off. I am smiling, happy; so giddy—because everyone is praising me; everyone thinks I am such a smart little girl. But they are only buttering me up in their hunger; praising me: smart girl… & then…everything goes black. Everything is a blank. Everything shuts down in the screen of my mind, on the surfaces of my body. Later—I have a vague memory—a discombobulated thing—I’m crouching on the floor of his truck…afterwards…confused…frightened…& he’s offering me a treat. A reward. A bribe in exchange for being mum. There is a shrieking—a darkness, & I am being disemboweled from the very pit of my spirit, where I should have most been guaranteed safety, but no. He is peering at me with his eyes; he is delving into me. I am so confused. He knows what a bad girl I am. I have been found out, I have been found out; no— I change the story—I have found him out; I change the story—I resurrect the dark into a million bright suns that will lash him into hell with the strength of my newfound joy & my hope. I have found him out; I have found him out. It is his shame, not mine; it is not my shame— & this is my voice; this is what I remember.

Many People ask Me why I am so full on about Child Abuse Prevention. If You have time to read, I will tell You a bit about My life. Born in 1973 in Brisbane, Queensland. In 1974 I was caught up with many residents in the 1974 Brisbane floods. Floating down the street in a Basinet. We moved to NSW. My little Sister was born. We moved again. Mum and Dad split up. From 0 – 5 I seen much Violence. At 5 years old My Sister and Myself were adopted. We spent a small amount of time with Foster Parents between the transfer from one family to the next. My Adopted Family was loving and caring. Both parents had multiple jobs. They already had two boys and a girl. They wanted another girl. They adopted Us both. For many years, I felt that I didn’t belong there. By 11,12 years of age, I was a very troubled child. Many night mares that I could not explain. 12,13 I was put into a Youth Hostel on the Gold Coast. Spent almost 2 years there. Off an on. When I went back to My Family. They had all gone. My Mother and Father had broken up. My older Sister was with her Partner. My older Brothers were hitchhiking around Queensland. And My younger Sister was with Our Adoptive Mother. By 13,14 years of age. I was diagnosed with Bipolar and PTSD. I had no where to go and no one around. I lived on the Streets in Southport, Gold Coast. It was very dangerous, yet no one knew of the Predators in the parks at night. At 14 I was taken to a Boys home in Kallangur, Queensland. This is where the nightmares became reality. I will cut this part short. Over 3+ years I was raped over 170 times. By 17 different People. Some staff, some were there friends. Some were in high positions of power. Both Men and Women abusers. I had my jaw broken multiple times, eye sockets crushed. Head split open numerous times. And one occasion My head was popped after dropping 3 stories attached to a chain. Multiple broken ribs. Internal damage that at 45 years of age, I still have problems with. I have a head, body, heart and soul covered in scars. This went on for Years. Many other boys were also impacted by these abusers. Anyone we told would be sacked, or we would never see them again. During My time at this facility. I was taken to another facility, where I was raped by other boys. I attempted suicide many times. At 16 I was one of the first boys to do what they called Rural Access Course. Teaching young underprivileged boys and girls to become farmers. We were sent to South Burnett College in Kingaroy. The abuse continued, except now the Abusers were a part of Australia’s Hierarchy. Statements were made to Police, I was taken back to Kallangur. The abuse continued. At 18 I was given $14 and the clothes I was wearing. And told, off You go. You are not allowed here anymore. I was heavily addicted to drugs and alcohol. I had nothing. Over the next year I travelled around North Queensland. At 19 I met My biological Mother. From that moment on My life changed. That is another story for another day. By the time I was 18, I had seen and been impacted, physically, mentally and psychologically to such a great extent. I didn’t actually know who I was. I created multiple personalities to be able to deal with multiple trauma’s. I started People Against Intentional Neglect in 2012. Because it has never changed, it has Only got worse. So many traumatized and damaged People are in our Society. And at times it feels like no one actually cares. I wanted to show that I care. As time has gone on since starting P.A.I.N. I have seen increases of upto 500% in Child Abuse statistics. Predatory behaviour and crimes has escalated dramatically. So I created Predator Prevention Team. That wasn’t enough, with My latest creation of 1800 WE PREVENT. Predator Prevention Hotline. I am finally making some progress in reducing the amount of Predators in Society having access to Children in Public. As a Father and Grandfather it is My Duty to Protect the next Generations. As a Survivor it is My PRIORITY to Prevent Child Abuse and to Prevent Predators in Society. If you have taken the time to read this. Thank You. I hope that this gives a little understanding of why I am so full on. When it comes to Child Abuse Prevention. Stay Safe, Stay Strong, Stay Awesome.

June 1, 1990, Columbus, Ohio. This was the day I was born, miraculously, to a drug-addicted mother who couldn’t take care of me. I was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, diagnosed with bilateral cleft palates which made it hard for me to breathe, mild cerebral palsy, significant hearing impairment, and legal blindness. I came out tiny and nearly impossible to feed properly. Immediately, I was placed in the foster care system for a chance at a better life, though, my foster dad and siblings treated me like I was a disease that didn’t belong in their family. Still, I had clothes on my back and food in my belly, and thankfully, I had a foster mom who raised me like her own daughter. She made me feel wanted. Although she was often sick, going in and out of the hospital, my foster mom ran like a well-oiled machine when she got well again. I remember that I would always help her clean the house and help her with the holiday decorations. She used to love to bake and cook, and would always let me help her by putting the ingredients in the bowl. She listened to my questions, my ideas, and my dreams. I adored her because she never made me feel like I was different. I know what you’re thinking. “Well, at least she had her mom to count on.” Yes, there were lots of things I shared with my mom, but I harbored a dark secret. My adopted sister, Tonya, was a young mother who brought her nine-year-old son John over to our house almost every day. One night when I was just seven, my door was wide open. While everyone was asleep, John crept into my bedroom, stripped off his clothes, got on top of me, and forced himself inside me. I tried to push him away and scream for help, but he shut me up by forcing me to perform oral sex on him. When he was finished, he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, okay? This is our little secret.” I was just a child. I didn’t understand what had happened, but I knew it was wrong. In the years to come, nearly every day and night, John would assault me. I shudder when I think of the times he’d pull me into the bathroom late at night, force himself on me in my bedroom or behind the shed, wherever and whenever he wanted. Purple bruises littered my arms like sick tattoos from the punching game he liked to play. Still, I kept quiet. I was terrified I would get taken from my foster family and away from my mom if I told. The only person to ever find out what was happening was my adopted sister Tonya, John’s mother. She once caught him naked and on top of me, and just…walked out of the room, never saying a word about it. In 2001, my foster parents sat me down and asked if I wanted to be adopted into the family. Young and desperate for acceptance, I said yes. They didn’t know what was still happening behind their backs, but I decided I wouldn’t risk ruining my chance at having a real family. They seemed so happy, insisting that I fit in so well, and it made me hopeful. Things would get better after getting adopted, I was sure. They couldn’t get much worse. As life continued and my adopted mom got older, her health problems became more pressing and frequent. The hospital became her home away from home. The more she was admitted, the more we doubted her survival. Her health was hanging on by a thread. One day when I was 15, I came home from school to find my adopted dad in his usual spot at the table, perusing the newspaper. He motioned me over to him. My first thought was, oh no, something’s wrong. “Is Mom okay?” I asked him, and he nodded impatiently and motioned me closer. When I got close enough, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his genitals. I froze in shock. This can’t be happening to me. Not again. Why me? Why was I the chosen one? Several times after that, he would force me to sit on his lap so he could put his hand down my pants. And just like before, I was told that this was “our little secret.” At this point, I just accepted that I would always live my life behind a dozen secrets. The abuse had cracked my heart, but later that same year my soul shattered. My mom passed away, taking with her the only love I’d had. The only ear that listened. So, I stopped talking, stopped socializing at school. I shut down. I held tight to the secrets I would never be able to share. Not only was I a partially blind and deaf girl with cerebral palsy and a broken past, but now, I was also alone. After her death, I went to live with my adopted sister Donna to get away from my dad. I was safer with my sister, but by this point, I was so broken that I couldn’t live happily. After graduating high school, I thought about getting my own place, but my sister convinced me that I wouldn’t be able to function alone. After years of being forced to do things you don’t want to, you eventually go on auto pilot. I continued to live in a haze until 2010, when I went to The Ohio State University. Being on campus, learning more about the outside world, I realized that I could come clean about what had happened to me in my childhood. I was no longer ashamed, instead, I wanted to solve my problems. Maybe if I told my adoptive family the truth, they’d understand why I was so quiet, and would help me. Maybe they’d show me love if they knew my pain inside. And so, in 2012, after