A daughter of two immigrant parents of Honduras, I was brought to the US with a promise of a better life, what I got…..well just keep reading.
We traveled a lot during the first few years of my life. So much so that I went to 10 different elementary schools and 2 different middle schools. Don’t ask me what my parents were doing, I plead the fifth. I never saw my parents argue and they never gave us an idea that anything was wrong. Until my father decided to leave my mom for a stripper, Welcome to Las Vegas!
I was turning 13 years old and it was the first time in my life I felt really alone and abandoned. Not only because my father left, might I add he never returned, but I lost my mom as well. No my mom didn’t die, she just forgot that she was a mother. She was chasing her feelings of being alone without a man and it was killing her. So she got with the first person that gave her attention, was accepting she had 3 children and he had money. He sold her this wonderful dream and bought her the world. She was happy and it only cost her the innocences of her two daughters. What were we supposed to do? We finally saw our mother was happy and at the same time we were fearful. All I could do was plan my escape.
I was 15 years old, I worked my ass off all summer, didn’t spend one dollar and hid all the money under my bed. At the end of the summer, I finally took a moment to count it all and realized it wasn’t going to be enough, but I was willing to take a chance. That night I pack all the money in my backpack with clothes and left. I made it all the way down to the front entrance of our housing community and was terrified, I started hyperventilating and I didn’t know what to do. It was at this point I knew I had to come up with a better plan. I went back home telling myself it will only be a few more days of this.
I endured a whole additional year of sexual abuse, until one day I realized it was approaching a whole other level. My brother tried telling my mom what was going on and he denied it, and two weeks later they kicked my brother out the house. I was almost 17 years old and I knew I had to leave this time, but I had to be smart.
I found an apartment that was willing to help me, due to my age. I didn’t tell anyone I was moving out. I woke up the next day packed up my car with all my belongings and at that time I told my mom I was leaving. She was very taking back and yet wasn’t upset or tried to stop me. My sister was a wreck. I made a promise to my sister that I was coming back to save her, but first I had to be stable.
Now here I was 17 years old on my own, finally away from my abuser, and I was depressed.
Stay Tuned for Part 2……..