It was a bright sunny day, in the summer of 1964, in the state of New York, when a beautiful little baby girl was born. So precious a bundle she was, a chosen child of the God above, yet born into sinful mankind. Into a horrible world, cruel to the core, where not many good people were to be found. Her parents were no different, one drunk and one on drugs; neither one of them knowing anything about love.
Mary’s father started abusing her in ’69, when she turned five years old. He would take her to secret places and play games with her that she didn’t like at all. The games always hurt and she always cried, but daddy never listened. He was evil and heartless. He was mean and cruel. She hated the games but it was better than being with mommy.
Her mom was a lonely, angry and bitter woman. She yelled at Mary and beat her horribly. She would poke her and pinch her and pull her along by her hair. She was lazy and made Mary do everything; all the cleaning and all the cooking. And she always smelled bad. She would get right into her face and yell and it smelled so bad that Mary would try hard not to throw up. If she did she’d get a beating worse than ever.
She slept with a light on so that there would be no dark corners in her room. Yet, even with the light on, she was still afraid of the monsters from her dreams. She would wake up crying and trembling in fear from the horrific memories of the days, and weeks, and months past. Every morning would bring on new anxiety. She was constantly in fear, day after day. When would it end?
At 10 years old, the abuse still continued. One night, one particular ‘game’ was very bad and she struggled and fought so she would not have to participate. Her daddy beat her that night and told her she was a horrible bad girl and that she would have to be punished for not playing the game. He took her clothes off her, put her over his knee, and spanked her relentlessly. Then he put her into a small hole in the basement, and kept her there till morning. There she stayed, crying and sobbing from the physical pain and the pain deep inside her heart. The next morning she’d have to get up and go to school.
She hated school. She hated herself and everyone around her. No one helped her. She was all alone. Kids were mean to her and picked on her non stop. Teachers didn’t like her. She never talked to anyone. She wouldn’t. They didn’t listen anyway. No one loved her. No one cared. There wasn’t one nice person anywhere!
Now at 14, the years have taken their toll. Her heart is shattered in so many pieces that it would take a heart transplant to fix it. She hates everyone. There’s not a drop of love in her because no one has ever loved her. She spins in a whirlwind of grief and despair. She’s loosing control. She can’t live like this anymore. No way can she take the pain and the emptiness any longer. She tries to find a way out. She can’t comprehend living any longer. She’s at rock bottom. She furiously thinks of a way to end her life. She starts sobbing and cries out, “I can’t take anymore! Please help me!”
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