I was adopted by my aunt and uncle when I was eight months, after my mom left me in a burning trailer. I'm glad I was taken in, because I don't know where I'd be right now. For a long time I was beat because I had a problem with wetting the bed. I guess they [adoptive parents] thought I did it on purpose, because I was beat until about 12 or 13. The thing is, I didn't stop wetting the bed until was about 14. I just got up before mom, so she wouldn't know. What they still don't know is that sometimes at my age now I still have trouble.
Their Stories...
I lived in a poor, abusive home with my mother and step-father until my two sisters and I were placed in a foster home. When I turned nine my father received custody of me, but let me stay with my grandmother because he was going through a divorce. My grandmother passed away when I was 12 and that's when I began hanging around with the wrong crowd. I became a drug addict at age 12.
Two years later my step-dad went to jail for murder. My mom called me and was threatening suicide. So, I ran away to try to help her. I was caught by the police.
My mom used to beat us. Whenever she got mad she would hit us with anything she got her hands on. My dad would bring me into his room. I thought we were wrestling, but he would touch me... I've run away from home three times. I acted out and threatened my peers at school.
After turning my mom in for abuse and being sent to several foster homes I was sent to Hope Hill. Now I'm controlling my anger and opening up more.
CAUTION: These stories are disturbing and should not be read by young children. They are real testimonies of girls we have served.
My father and mother died when I was little. I started doing drugs and running the streets when I was 11. I always turned to drugs to solve my problems. It made everything seem better. By age 16, I had been through a lot, including having a baby girl.
When I came to Hope Hill, I didn't want to be here, but I knew it was the right thing in my heart. I thought to myself, "this will all be worth it when I go home better and clean, and able to be there for my baby girl. Now I got to God with my problems. I'm going to be clean for 75 days.
I had been a smart girl who cared about stuff, to being against the law, against my parents, doing drugs and hanging out on the streets. I went to jail when I was 11 for breaking into a house and stealing stuff.
Then I met this guy who was older. He bought me food, clothes, whatever I wanted. Then one time he told me I owed him money for everything. So he took me to a truck stop and told me to get out and make some money. I was scared and worried. I tried to run away from the truck stop, but he pulled up next to me with a gun. So I just did what he told me to do. I had sex with truck drivers for money.
My mom was never happy. She never taught me how to wash dishes, make my bed, sweep or mop. Our house was never clean, but she expected me to do everything.
The money we had went to rent and bills. We had food stamps, but she would eat all the food and hardly ever feed me. She always yelled at me. She never read to me or asked me about my day. She would not help me with my school work.
I did not have any new clothes, just old clothes from other kids. It was dirty and had holes. I felt bad because kids at school had new clothes, that were clean. The kids made fun of me, said I did not know how to take a bath.
I did not have any friends to invite over. I was 16.
I was removed from my mom, because she abused me. I felt loved when I was in foster care, but the homes were hard. So I came to Hope Hill.
Hope Hill has done a lot for me. They have taught me how to do laundry, clean a house, clean my room, personal hygeine, physical fitness, group counseling and individual counseling.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in sprit.
Psalm 34:18
I like looking through old photographs. One of my favorites is a picture of my sister and me sitting on my dad’s lap. I was too young to remember that day, but it is proof that he was in my life.
I like looking at pictures of my mom, too. The state took me out of her home when I was a little girl. She wasn’t a very good mother, but I loved her. My mom committed suicide last year, so pictures are all I have to remember her by.
I treasured these pictures as I was moved from foster home to foster home. Sometimes the homes were good. Other times, they weren’t. One of my foster mothers made me do all of the cleaning, and would throw me across the room if I didn’t do a good enough job. One of my foster fathers molested me.
Often, I felt so hopeless that I didn’t see a way out. I cut angry words into my arm. I tried to commit suicide twice.
God has done a work in me since I have been in Hope Hill. Slowly, I am beginning to heal. There are people around me who are showing me love, and I am beginning to think that not everyone is bad. Maybe one day I will be able to trust again.
I went into my mom's room, locked the door and cried. I stayed up the whole night wide awake making sure he would not do it to me again. I didn't tell anyone because I was scared, but I always tried to keep my distance from my step dad.
