I am not supposed to be here. This isn't supposed to be my life. I should be dead; my soul doomed to spend eternity with The Enemy. I am not an angel. I am an addict. I have abused painkillers, sedatives and sleeping pills. I have been cutting myself for over 30 years. Sometimes, that urge to cut is so strong, the pull is so alluring, that I can taste it. I want it that bad. There has been so much pathology, so much dysfunction in my family life when I was growing up. The very first man in my life, my father left when I was 14 or 15. My mother and I have, at best, a cordial relationship. I've never felt close to her. Or at least, not as close as I should be. There have been times when our estrangement has caused us not to have contact for many months. And I was fine with that. I AM fine with that. That estrangement was never her fault, it was my fault. I didn't feel worthy of her love. I was unclean. From the time I was 2 or 3 years old, I always felt a presence of something ominous. When I was about 3 or 4, I told my mother that, "somebody is telling me to put a fork in the socket.' My mother, gave little credence to that; she would blithely reply, "You betta not " I could never associate the voice with being male or female, but this presence has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was about 5 years old, I was sexually molested by my mother's brother's son. It's funny how I can't refer to these people as my uncle and my cousin. His name was Snookie. I don't remember how old he was, but he had to be at least 17 or 18. Every weekend, my mother and father would go to her brother's house to play bid whist. The first time it happened, Snookie warned me not to tell or he would kill my little brother. The following weekend, and endless weekends thereafter, I begged not to go. I pleaded, cajoled, negotiated, cried, played sick. But every weekend, we were there. By this time Snookie said he was my boyfriend, and that I was lucky to have one because I was so ugly. Eventually, the visits stopped, but the scars of the abuse never left. My first relationship was with a man that beat me everyday. I was 15 years old. I was beaten, raped, sodomized, ridiculed, kept hostage and left for hours in a filthy, dark room for endless hours, with only a bucket. The room was filled with rats; they would jump about and scratch at my shoes. Chris was 5 years older than me and gave me no mercy. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to have an abortion. And I knew that Chris could never find out. I was trapped in that hellish relationship for about 3 years. I should be dead. While Chris had no real ambition, it was his life's work to kill me. And he was successful, in a way. On 11-11-2011, I went into Carolinas Medical Center for the first in what would be a series of surgeries. And I never left. Chanjrah never left. The person who replaced her was broken, angry, decimated and hopeless. That surgery set off a series of events that are so horrific and abhorrent, it is only with God's grace and mercy that I am here today. I am not an angel, but I believe that God has a plan for me and has not forsaken me. Even when I was unfaithful. He is healing my body and mind. He is showing me that Satan is a coward and easily defeated. I just never had the tools. This book is for anyone who has gone through, or are going through the worst of the worst. You are not alone.