We all have a story we didn't want to tell. 

SYNOPSIS:

Born October 11, 1990 as a premature baby, my mother would often come home from multiple jobs and find me laying in a crib filled with piss. My drunken Father would be asleep or in the other room chain smoking away moms hard earned money, never caring that I could die any time being on a breathing machine for the first year of my life. But that was just the beginning of the abuse we would endure.

After barely surviving years of abuse, heartache and pain, my friends, family and even strangers encouraged that I write a memoir. They felt as though our story could heavily inspire others who may be in similar situations could feel understanding, knowing they are not alone and that survival exists even through literal hell. I never felt my story could ‘inspire,’ as some thought nor did I feel that I was important enough that one would pick up my book and give it a read, after all, I was nothing more than a cunt.

Nevertheless, the words and haunting memories followed me throughout my mid-adult life. And that’s when I began to consider this more seriously, I knew I wasn’t the only beaten soul in the world.

My hope of helping someone near and far fight for their freedom. The thought that anyone else could have gone through even a percent of what we did was enough of encouragement. I thought even if one person reads this book and survives their struggle, it would be worth it.

So, I did it “the cunt,” wrestled her internal battle and finished the book, dedicated in full to my fighter of a mom.

Thank you for keeping me alive.

Imagine waking everyday, afraid to leave your room. Terrified because you knew the sound of your door opening meant the abuse would begin.

“You’re a cunt.”