Tragedy Of The Spirit (Revised)
Prologue
By PrairieGirl64 Edited By Stanman63, Proofed By JennaFL and Nora Adrienne

 
Synopsis: Melissa Dawne Northe was a girl, born in a boy's body. She was adopted by farmers, not knowing or caring about her unique needs. The first time that she is caught, she is beaten by her father until she passes out in the barn. Upon awakening, she finds that her parents despise her for what she had done, and force her to live out her dream as a nightmare, little knowing that she would lose hope.

As the beatings and rapes continue, she finally despairs of any hope as her Faith and Trust in God is destroyed by the constant rapes and humiliations she suffers from her family. She commits suicide by taking sleeping pills which give her some reprieve, but is short lived. In school, she finds a friend in her horse when she joins the 4-H club, but upon learning about her being given hormones, she slashes her wrists, leading to a hospital stay.

As Melissa grows older, she finds a perverse delight in taunting her abusers into further abuse, as she is home schooled now due to a suicide watch, Even as she is abused, her spirit refuses to die, and grows stronger as the abuse escalates as she becomes more feminine. At fifteen years of age, she finally decides to escape from her personal hell and run away into the night.

On the road, she meets a friendly truck driver who gives her a lift into the city where Jenn lives without forcing sex upon the waif. Jenn takes Melissa in and becomes her aide and confidant in the concrete jungle. Meeting one of Jenn's male friends, Melissa is once again raped and abused, ending her idyllic reprieve from her past. Melissa then decides to travel, getting away from the memory of the rape and becoming the streetwise savvy streetwalker that she needs to be in order to survive.

Later on, she returns to Jenn, a much wiser, yet needy lost little girl in need of sanctuary. While back home, she confides her deepest fears to Jenn who does what she can to help her broken friend. Melissa decides that she needs to travel again as that is her lot in life, seeking an answer to her question. Who Am I?

On the road, Melissa continues her travels and turning tricks until one fateful night that ended her days as a prostitute. While turning tricks, she was involved in a nearby shooting that left her shaken to her core, and with nightmares about that night, equal to those of being abused while growing up.

Returning to Jenn, Melissa finally decides to settle down and go to school. In school, she chooses to be a studious student, but finds that one student decides to take from her what she would prefer to give, or sell. Under Jenn's guidance, Melissa has him arrested, and he gets expelled. Then she finds that the girls start to accept her.

But Melissa is still carrying around a load of anger that prevents her from trusting men, Under Jenn's guidance, she finds a friend in Jason. Jason and Melissa began a friendship that ends because she can not trust men. Jason seems to understand, and is a friend as long as he is there. But in time both Jason and Jenn moved away where Jenn got a new job and Jason went for further schooling.

Melissa graduates from school and enters college where she earns her degree and enters the workforce, only to come down with MS, and epilepsy which brings her down until her counseling which alleviates much of her depression. Then, Melissa meets Melanie Dixon who befriends her. She becomes one of her closest friends, and when Jason returns, she helps Melissa to get ready for a date with him that ends in a brutal attack.

Melanie has the police to arrest Jason and calls 911 for her beaten friend. In the hospital, Melissa finally has the surgery that makes her a woman and through therapy, is able to go to Jason's trial which is almost too much for her. After the trial, Melanie moves away, so Melissa gets a girl to help her as by this time, she is stranded in a wheelchair.

Then, Melissa visits a Church where she finally finds Peace as she accepts the Love of God. It is during this time that she stars to organize her journals into a book, and finds her friends at Big Closet Top Shelf. While there, she discovers that there are those who would befriend her, which she can now accept.

Facing another surgery, she is ready to go home, her journey now over.

 
I was chosen by Melanie Dixon to help with the last few pieces of Melissa's story to edit and post. Now she has agreed to this revision of the original. I do this to honor a lady who I call my sister. All that I ask is that when you read her story is that you follow her journey and find the Peace that she found.

STANMAN63

 
This is the genesis of my auto-biography. I will go into graphic detail in my story of tragedy. But there is also Hope and Peace in the end. If your Heart is unable to handle such tragedies, I will understand. But if you are able to, I invite you, the reader to stay with me for my journey.

I will introduce myself, my name is Melissa, however it was never this name that I was born with, and it is my new name. I chose it later, after tragedy struck my life. A tragedy that should have destroyed me, but instead, it forged me into who I am, one who is beyond tragedy. My early child hood is the beginning of my tragedy, my tragedy of the Spirit.

You may wonder why I chose 'Tragedy Of The Spirit' as the title, it is simple, and I have found Peace, a Peace that is my triumph over tragedy. It
is my Hope that in telling my story, that you too may know that Peace.

I was adopted at 4 months old into what I thought of was a loving family environment. Being so young and male was different and difficult. Different in that I was different and difficult in that I was different. A difference that would become my tragedy, a difference that for years, I believed made me a loner, loner in that there were none like me. I did not know that there were others born like me. If I did know, my story would be different.

I realized at an early age I was different, I was a girl born in a boys body. I wanted to be a mother and have children as my mother had with me. Back then, I knew nothing about how to make a baby back then, just that I wanted to be like Mother. I was an innocent girl who would lose her innocence and naiveté in one tragic night that would launch me into a world that devoured innocence, leaving behind tragedy.

I was 6 or so when my earliest memories of my cross-dressing occur. I wanted to look like my mother. I had no sister or girl cousin to emulate or borrow clothes from, and we lived on a farm, so I had no close to shared my secret with either.

I remember one particular morning after I spent the previous day dressed in my moms short denim skirt and red sequin blouse. This particular morning my mom stormed into my room carrying the same outfit I wore the day before. She was really mad and crying. She yelled at me by saying:

Mom: "You little freak, how dare you wear my clothes!"

Myself: "I didn't!"

Mom: "You are a little liar and a no good son. If you wanna be a girl then you will be treated as one, get up and put this on!"

Myself: "NOOOOO, I will not wear that to school, I was just seeing what I looked like!" not letting her know my true feelings.

Mom: "You little shit, you will be ready for school in 10 minutes dressed in this outfit, OR ELSE!"

Myself: "NOOOOO!" I screamed.

At that point my father came bursting in my room carrying the bridle we had for the horses in the barn. Fear overtook me and I screamed at both of them telling them that I hated them for what they were doing to me. My father hauled me out of bed by my longish hair and began whipping me with the leather straps of the bridle. I screamed and was crying hysterically to no end. I was hauled to the barn and hung by the ropes that were there to tie the horses up for grooming and whipped.

When I woke up I was a mess and blood leaking from my back and face where I had been beat and wearing that very outfit I had on the day before. I will always remember that first beating as it was only yesterday; it is engrained on my slate that shaped me and made me the person whom I am today............

Synopsis: After awakening from the beating, Melissa learns of her new fate and life, little knowing about her future.

As I woke up on the floor after being dumped back into my room, I
found that I was stiff, and sore from the beating that I had received. If the police had seen me, I'd have been taken to the E.R. and placed in foster care. But such was not my lot. From an early age, I learned to deal with pain, deadening me in many ways as I became numb in my Spirit.

I was covered in my blood, sweat, and tears, and dust from the barn. The outfit that I wore of my mother's was ruined as was my hair, which was matted and tangled with my blood and sweat. As I slowly started to move, I saw and there were bruises starting to appear on my arms and my face. Seeing them, I was not sure how much of my now sore back was torn open from the abuse I had received.

I was kind of secure in the knowledge I was in my room where I thought I might be safe. I had my own room, full of what any boy would want. Rather, I should say what any other boy would want. I wanted things that would salve my need to be a girl. What I was not ready for was
the Hell to come when my wish was turned into my curse, a true tragedy.

I slowly got off the floor and went to my door and slightly opened it and immediately heard loud voices from the kitchen. My mother and father were in conversation about me, no doubt. I heard my father yell "He is a sissy and a fruitcake that needed to be beat," at my mother.

I started to cry and weep yet again and I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me.

I heard my mom say to my father, "No, no more beating, if I wanted to wear her clothes, then I was going to be wearing them."

My father said that, "Very well, that will be how we deal with the sissy. I would dress as a girl, and if I refused or back talked, I was going to get a whipping."

I crept to the washroom to attempt to clean up and wipe the grime off my body. I also knew I was going to be in a lot of pain when I stripped off the clothes that I had been wearing. I was
right, they peeled off of my body as the congealed blood, sweat, and dirt's glue released the clothing. I was dirty all over; even my shorts were grimed from my bowel movements.

The conversation was still going on in the kitchen although very faint but still audible. They were still going on about me and how I was a sissy for wanting to wear a dress. Never did they say that they were proud of me in any way, even though I was a very kind and considerate boy. Evidently, they wanted a tough bully instead.

I was scared and continued to think that I was some kind of sissy. Did I need help? Was I different? Was it true that I was a sissy? I only wish I knew. I slowly stripped off the blood clothes and could see the tears and rips that were in the fabric. I tried to turn to the mirror so I could see my back, I was so scared and I knew I was going to be so sore the next day.

The conversation stopped when I turned on the tap in the
bathroom and then I heard footsteps come down the hall. I could not lock the door, there was no escape, and I was trapped. There was pure anger and despise in my mothers face as she glanced at me. She said, get a bath or shower! I don't care how much it hurts you! Then, get to your room! I'll deal with you, later."

I literally cringed when she spoke to me; I had tears streaming down my face as she looked at me and told me to hurry up. My father unbeknownst to me was in my bedroom ripping out my clothes such as shirts and underwear. All of my boy clothes were gone, leaving that which a girl could wear.

When I returned to my room from my bath there on the bed was underwear, a short denim skirt and gray tank top. My mother said, "Get dressed and get to the kitchen."

While all this was taking place my younger brother was laughing his head off in the living room with his friends. I wondered 'Do I need to pray a lot more than I was doing
when I went to Church on Sundays?'

I would eventually drift off to sleep that night unsure of my future at such a young age. I began my journal writing after I was beaten by my father. I began to hate him and his lack of love for me. I also began to try and ignore what my parents said about me. I learned to realize that I had to survive in whatever way I could or my father would kill me........

Here is a bit of background on where I grew up, it was a farm my parents had inherited from his dad and it was a pretty big place. The house has four bedrooms with a large kitchen and living area. The barn was large to accommodate the horses and cattle and the chickens. I was given my horse when I turned 5 years old from my grandmother. She was to be my only friend and my only support in the years that I stayed on the farm.

I really began to think where my life went wrong. As I looked at my life
for those 15 years I spent living in that hell on earth as I now referred to it years later. I realized I had a few choices really;

1. Kill myself; I really came close several times over fifteen years I spent with my undeserving parents and brother.

2. Leave and never look back. I chose option 2.

I remember those days following my first brutal assault by my father. I was completely scared and had no idea where I was going to turn to as I had no choice. I had to follow there every word and instruction or I knew I was going to be beaten and beaten badly.

One evening after I had done my chores in the barn and my homework was finished, I was falling asleep when I heard my door open ever so lightly and in walked my brother who was two
years younger than me.

He walked so carefully to my bed and covered my mouth with his hand and started to punch me in the stomach and face. He whispered names in disgust to me. Some of those names were freak, sissy, homo, loser, etc...

After he physically assaulted me, he left, in the middle of the night my door once again opened and in strode my dad. He pulled down the covers and slid into my tiny bed and proceeded to touch me. I knew he had been drinking as the foul stench was evident.

I had no idea where my mother was, nor did I seem to want to know. My father slapped me a few times and told me to keep quiet. I was so scared that I did keep quiet and was shaking so bad that I was literally quivering.

My father raped me that first night so badly that I walked very funny for three days afterwards. When my mother asked me why I was walking funny I just told her I fell and hurt myself. She did not even pursue this line of
inquiry.

My daily punishment after school was short skirts or dresses and I had to do my chores in those clothes and cook dinner after those chores were done.

I should give you an idea where I grew up so that you have an idea of the area. I grew up in rural Canada , small town actually. The idea of small towns was that everyone knew what everyone was doing at all times except for the awful secrets that lay behind closed doors.

I went to church every Sunday and God forbid if you mentioned anything out of the ordinary. The whole town would know in a matter of seconds. The party line was very useful, back then, where every kid knew the party locations, whom was dating whom etc.

My little secret never materialized as I was so scared and frightened of the repercussions. I kept my mouth shut and did what I needed to do. I hated my life for those 15 years I spent there on that farm. The abuse that continued, the humiliation I
endured.

The constant beatings and continuous rapes by my father and eventually my brother joined the routine as did his select friends. My mother ignored all this and would call any bad behavior to my father when I did or didn't.

I look back years later; I realized that she must be ill to think that everything was normal. I prayed that I would never feel that wrath of my fathers whip, nor the bridle with neither the reins, nor the cinch that was attached to the blanket before the saddle was on the horse.

My escape when I could was my horse "Misty", she could run like the wind and was my best friend, confidant, my soul mate. At age 7 through 14, she was all that I had that gave me unconditional love and acceptance.

I made or had very few friends while existing on the farm. I had little to do with the neighbors kids on weekends. My escape was "Misty", we barrel raced every chance I had. I would set up bales in the
field and race till we got good enough to compete.

I loved that escape, the freedom that existed. I will cherish those good memories while there as they seemed to grant my serenity.

Over the course of months of abuse and rapes, I wondered if I should kill myself and or escape. My thoughts always centered on ending my life and I began to contemplate those harsh thoughts.

I had no real friends, no real association with those I could trust. I began to feel isolated and very frightened every time I was looked at by everyone. I hated life and I so much wanted to end it so badly that I wrote my thoughts and feelings every night and every opportunity in my journal.

I always thought that parents were to protect, nurture, guide, love and accept. But that I did not have in my parents. What I got was abuse, hurt, hatred, and humiliation. I had always wondered why I not had that for the first 15 years of my life. I often wondered why my parents were so cruel to me. Why family members loathed me and especially why my brother hated me so much. As I grew older I came to the very understanding that neither my parents, nor my family loved nor cherished me as I always new that I did not fit in.

What had I done to deserve this? Had I angered the God of the Bible? If God was so angry with me, why did He not smite me down has He had done in the Bible? Did He tell my family to hate me? Why was I not ever given any Love or appreciation? Was I to endure
endless hours of unrelenting punishment without reprieve?

**************

Authors Note: This chapter contains some graphic material that may be too graphic to endure. Please I wish to CAUTION the reader that this is true. This happened to me when I was between ages 6 and 15 years of age. This is not for the faint of heart. Please do not read if it will upset you.

**************

I often wondered why me? As I sat in School and daydreamed why I was placed in a situation I had no defense against. At least in my day dreams, I was not hurt by my family, and at school, I was away from their hatred. I look back years later as I am writing this for my book, why? Why was I not ever shown even the tiniest bit of Love? I believe that it was understood by taking many courses on family and psychology and sociology that family was to be there for one another. Why was mine not?

I always thought that parents were to protect,
nurture, guide, love and accept. Why did I get the opposite? I had always wondered why I not had that for the first 15 years of my life. I often wondered why my parents were so cruel to me. Why family members loathed me and especially why my brother hated me so much. As I grew older I came to the very understanding that my parents, nor my family didn't love nor cherish me as I always new that I did not fit in.

But how I wanted to fit in, how I wanted to be loved, cherished, protected, and accepted by them. Would I become the victim of brainwashing and identify with them and start to hate myself, or even worse, commit suicide? If I did, would I become a mental vegetable, my mind a prisoner in my body?

I remember all the severe beatings I endured and to this day those physical scars remain on my body as a constant reminder of my past. But the sexual abuse was much worse, and the mental abuse put me through hell. It was a
nightly occurrence that either my dad or my brother would sexually assault me by my dad more than my brother. He would have me blow him till he came in my mouth and then literally rape my behind till I was raw.

My mother I believe chose to ignore all the cries and whimpering that came from me. I believe that my dad enjoyed his sessions with me. One particular session, he literally beat me while he raped me. He tied me to the bed frame with straps that he brought into my room. He raped me so bad that I bled for a week afterwards and that is what drove me to attempt suicide.

Now, I had the answer to my question about suicide, it was a grim reminder of my musings that made the assault even more horrible. Now, I wanted to die, to end it all, and to find Peace. Even then, I held out Hope that God would Love me.

I found a bottle of sleeping pills that my mother had for her insomnia. I took the whole bottle (about 20 pills) and
passed out. When I woke up, I was bleeding from my rear and my mouth was stitched up. My guess was that my father or my brother beat me and raped me while I was asleep and I woke up in the emergency ward. To this day, I am amazed that the abuse never did get the Authorities to intervene on my behalf. Were they blind to my ordeal?

The rapes continued every night after I had arrived home about 15 days later. Now I so hated myself that I questioned why I was being punished. I looked to the Lord for help when I received no answers to my prayers I lost my Faith and Trust in God. If He would not or could not answer, why should I Believe in Him? Why has Faith in a God that never helped me?

The abuse just did not stop there. My brother would take delight in setting me up to take the blame for things I never did. Worst of all, my parents knew about it and still punished me. One such incident occurred while I was in school and he had skipped
the day feigning illness. I supposedly placed his rifle loaded on the washing machine before I left for school. My defense was I was already at school when this alleged incident occurred. I was subsequently hauled by my hair and shirt collar to the barn and whipped severely.

I have to say that I was dressed in androgynous clothing. I had long flowing red hair (which I still have to this very day). I was tied up and severely whipped with the bridle and reins. I was left to bleed and cry, which I did. That was when I lost my Faith in God and all Hope, too. I prayed for release from my bondage from my hell, but all that I got was more abuse.

At nights I was dressed in nightgowns that were once my mothers and some I had been given. I slowly began to build up my wardrobe as I was constantly being dressed anyways. My ears were pierced when I was 7 years old by ice and a long sewing needle. The belief that I was wanted was becoming more and more
a fantasy for me. I dreamed of being a Princess such as Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White, even Tinkerbell! Never did I see myself as a Prince.

I knew I was adopted and my brother was natural born. I remember years' later watching Sesame Street and the wall with all the same objects on it except one. I knew I was different, I knew I did not belong. How could I? I was different, I was unwanted.

I was continually abused and raped nightly by my father. There was no remorse no matter how much I pleaded. God forbid that in small town Canada on the prairies, that you ever spilled your private life. If you did, you were ridiculed, especially a child. Whereas the parents could claim innocence and denial, as a child, you either learned to deal with it, or you just ignored the problems. I went to church and I for one could not say anything about the abuse, the preacher of the church was very good friends with my parents, and from his sermons,
believed what my father did about sissies.

I was ignored and very quiet, I was always shy and withdrawn. Whenever questioned about any bruises or cuts, I claimed to be very clumsy. I never had friends in school and was picked on because of my androgynous appearance. I was too girly for the girls, yet too sissy for the boys, and my brother was no help either. (This was a time where abused children were ignored when they spoke out, not like today where children have a lot of rights.)

I was constantly picked on, raped violently and punished for things I did not do. I did however find some solitude with my 4H activities and my horse that I was constantly around when I was not being abused. My horse became my only fried, listening to my pain and anguish, and giving me love in return. In the barn, I was safe from the hell that was my life as I groomed my horse and tended to my friend. There were some happy times away from the barn
too.

Those were when I was left alone to read and listen to music and secretly dress in my accumulated small wardrobe that was beginning to get larger as the months passed. I also began to physically change at that time, I was 8 when I began to feel funny in the chest area, I did not bother to tell my parents of this feeling, I thought I would just ignore it. What good would it do? I would just get abused anyway.

I later discovered I was secretly being given estrogen from my mother's birth control pills. I was horrified. I was horrified, how could they do this to me? What had I done so terribly wrong to deserve this life? What did I have to contribute? I lost all sense of self worth, self esteem, and zeal for life. I had no friends and those I thought were my friends were not. I was constantly betrayed by them.

As the weeks went by and those turned into months, I slowly began to wonder if I could die, that way no one would miss
me. It was obvious that no one loved me, nor wanted me. I was alone. I could not count on my horse, as it was not mine, and my parents would not let it stay in the barn, even though we had the money.

I prayed nightly neither that nor more rapes would occur that prayer went unanswered. I also prayed that I would find the strength to fight back, that too ended up falling on the Lord's deaf ear. My self worth and esteem were so depleted that I began to feel that I needed to die. I attempted suicide again on my 9th birthday while I was in school. I had smuggled a knife from the barn (to cut bales). I went to the washroom and sliced my wrists across the veins, not lengthwise (I was so naive; I could have ended it right then, there had I known).

I remember waking up in hospital, strapped to the bed with IV tubes in my arm. I was under suicide watch. I later learned that my PARENTS conveniently lied to the hospital officials saying that I
was depressed over not getting awards and high grades in several of my classes. I spent the better part of 5 months in hospital and went through my first bout of psychiatric care. At 9, sheesh! I began to tell...........

Caution this part of the story contains some rape and abuse scenes. Please feel free to post points to improve on or comments. This is true and this reflects what I had to start doing in order to survive. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it very much.

Let me first begin by saying that, although I had a troublesome upbringing for the first 15 years of my life. I began see some hope. A glimmer you might say in the struggle to find some freedom from the abuse and rape that occurred nightly. You would not believe where this spark of hope came from either, as it came from a most unlikely source. I also found a glimmer of strength through this as I confronted my "mother" one day about 10 days before my 15th birthday.

I told her in no uncertain terms, "I was sick and tired of the crap that I was enduring, and you blatantly ignore my pleas for help and assistance"

Her classic response to me was, "You are not aware of what was going on."

I simply got really pissed off and told her, "You certainly do know what was going on and you ignored it and protected your asshole husband and not me. Why?"

She replied, "You simply are not aware of all that is going on here, and you are lying about me!"

I told her. "Fuck off!"

Then she slapped me harder than I think I have ever been slapped before. Of course there were serious repercussions for my outburst as I knew that there would be, but I did not care. I truly had nothing at all to lose. I had no hostages to give to fortune, the horses that I rode, were not mine, and my awards and trophies from 4-H actually pleased them. I was beaten before bed that night.

I should maybe mention to you readers that at 15 I was tall and willowy, weighing at about 120 pounds. I stood at five feet eleven inches and very thin as I was very malnourished. I had essentially been starved and deprived food nutrients along with the minor estrogen intake I had developed size 'A' breasts. I was humiliated and very scared as this torment continued at school, and my style of dress was considerably female, earning more ridicule and abuse from the students.

I also knew that standing against my "father" was a suicide attempt for all practical purposes. He stood six feet six and weighed about 260 and there was no fat on his frame, he was all muscle, even in his brain. My mother stood five foot eight and about 160 and not thin either. In the four remaining years I endured the abuse/rape and harassment, I garnered some money by selling my tackle that I had accumulated over the years from my horse riding.

For some strange reason, my dad wanted me to use fresh tackle whenever I attended a competition, and never seemed to bother about the missing tackle. He always got used tackle for me to use, so he thought that my tackle kept on breaking. But I kept my first set, simply adding new bits to make it look different

as I have mentioned before, I did not have any friends within my community. But I did develop an acquaintance with a fellow horsewoman named Jennifer. She was a bit older than I was at the time. I had met her at one Four-H meeting in a small town not to far from where I lived. She eventually moved to the city and I remained in contact with her via letters. (No email then).

What I did not know then was the role that Jennifer would play in my life. She would become my best friend and confidant in the years to come. She would become my refuge, my haven, a sanctuary from the life that I would choose to lead. Without her, I would not have survived.

I endured so much abuse that I had reached the boiling point, I guess you could say. I was beaten down and badly bruised. I never thought I would get the opportunity to escape and eventually start life anew.

This timely event occurred on the tenth of May. I had made my plan and figured how I could escape. It was not going to be easy. I was sent to bed early after my beating from my father. I cried myself to sleep. I awoke at three AM and gathered my small amount of clothing. two skirts, one dress, two pairs of girls jeans, a pair of sandals, my runners and "my" estrogen meds I stole from my "mother" approximately 4 months supply. I knew that I would need them in order to stay a feminine as I was, not thinking about becoming a boy, if it was possible.

I gathered my journal notebooks and a windbreaker jacket into my duffle bag. I opened my window and tossed my duffle bag onto the ground. I slowly squeezed out of that window and literally fell to the ground. I screeched as I hit the ground. I was in total fear that I was heard and my heart was beating so fast that I was sure I was going to get caught. I paused and waited for ten minutes and then decided to get up and escape that hellhole I thought was my home and my sanctuary.

I slowly made my way through the yard, ducking between fuel tanks and the grain bins and eventually into the trees that surrounded the backside of the farm. All the while I was looking back to see if anyone had noticed my escape. I made my way across our wheat fields and into the neighbors' fields. Eventually I came across my first slough (water filled muck, low area of land). I walked around this huge area, and I eventually made it to the grid road.

I followed it till I reached the highway that led into town. I did not have a watch on so I guessed it took me about 2 hours or so the get that far. The sun was slowly rising on the eastern horizon. I was walking west.

Once I reached town I walk briskly through it and to the highway that led towards the city. I started walking along the highway till I hoped to catch a ride.

I was wearing my faded jeans (girls) and light blue tank top. I had no bra on so my tiny breasts were bouncing as I walked. My hair was in a pony tail and it was just below shoulder length. Being a natural red head proved a benefit for me.

I suppose I walked about 2 miles along the highway when there was a very loud noise behind me and I turned and I saw a semi trailer truck approaching.

I instinctively raised my hand with right thumb extended. I so hoped to get a ride if he stopped. I needed to escape this area and fast. He pulled up a fare distance up from me and stopped and I ran as fast I could muster to get to this vehicle.

I opened the passenger door and he asked me. "You need a ride?"

I nodded my head. I climbed in and off we went. My nightmare life
in hell was going to be over.

"My name is Darren."

"I am Melissa."

We began some small talk. He asked me, "Where are you headed?"

I replied, "The city."

He responded, "OK."

"Thank you for giving me a ride."

He then asked me. "How old are you?"

I replied, "Fifteen"

I could see on his face a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

He asked me, "Where are you coming from?"

I lied to him and said, "I am on my way to the city and had missed the bus. Where was I heading to?" No need to tell him the real reason. I was scared as it was. I think he noticed my skittishness.

His reply, "Going north to a base camp for miners."

All I did was nod my head. Approximately three hours later he dropped me off in the city and I walked to a mall where I could call my friend Jennifer. I was relieved to be away from hell and had a new challenge and journey about to begin. This journey would take me to all sorts of cities in Canada . This journey would test my endurance and strength to survive. A chance at life, hope, I was so uncertain.......

After I got to my friend Jenifer's residence we began to talk. I told her what had transpired over the last few months at home. I also mentioned to her my plan for my eventual escape and how I ended up on my cross country trek. Our conversation picked up a fair bit. She never judged me, only gave me the Love and acceptance that I so desperately needed.

She asked, "What are your plans? Do you have any?"

I replied, "Off hand, I have no idea. However, I do need to escape from here."

Jennifer stated, "I can help you to be yourself."

I simply nodded my head in agreement. Seeing how I had arrived there kind of more like a girl than anything androgynous. She could see my budding breasts that were more those of a twelve or thirteen year old than a fifteen year old girl's, and my shrunken willie was
kept
hidden in my panty, never erecting as a boy's should.

She asked me if I wanted some dinner. I nodded my head.

After dinner, I went and had a long hot bubble bath. I needed this as my bones were aching and I needed to think. Jennifer seemed to know what I needed.

"Melissa, you look all worn out."

"I am," I sighed.

"How about I run you a hot bubble bath so that you can soak?"

"Bubble bath? What's that?"

She smiled, "One of the few luxuries that we girls get to indulge in. I am not surprised that you were denied this treat."

"This was the first that I heard about it. If my 'mother' ever had one, she never let me know," I sighed as I saw yet another way that I was abused.

When I saw the tub of soapy water, I cried as I saw the Loving care that Jennifer was showing me. She helped me to gently ease my aching body into the tub and groaned as the warmth opened up the pores and
softened the many scars from my beatings. And my sphincter relaxed and began to loose its constant stiffness from all of the rapes that I had endured.

Jenn stayed with me, taking a sponge and rubbing my back to massage it, cleansing away years of dried blood and dead skin, giving my back a totally new skin that was waiting for the old to slough away. She
continued her ministrations, continuing to reveal a fresh body under all of the grime of the old body. When she did my hair, she shampooed it and rinsed away layers of dirty, oily residue from inadequate washing.

Then she drained the tub and washed down all of the dirt left behind, than had me lay in the tub as it filled with fresh rinse water to clean away the soapy residue. When I emerged from the tub, I asked Jenn if I could borrow some shorts or a nightgown to relax in. She nodded and went to her room and found one. It was light pink and had a picture of a robin on it. I have one
similar to that today.

I really began to feel remorse for what I did. Even though it was hell for me back there, it was the only way of life that I knew. To me, being raped and abused was the natural order of things, that was all that I knew.

However, I knew I had to do what I needed to do or else I would have ended up dead at my own hands I had tried to take my life twice before, but was uncertain of whether or not I would succeed next time.

I also had to reconsider where and what my purpose was going to be. What would I do? What could I become? I also had to reevaluate my strategy in case they came looking for me. For some reason I knew they wouldn't. I was finally away from them and they could care less about me.

To them, I was the black sheep of the family, the unwanted red-headed step child that caused problems. It was with these thoughts that I went to sleep on the couch.

The next morning, I went to the
kitchen and talked with Jenn. I asked her, "What do you mean by assisting me?"

She kindly said, "I can help you if you really need to figure a way to get out of here and start anew."

My reply, "How?"

Jenn said, "I can redo your hair and get you some clothes, as I know you have not that much."

I nodded my head. I was ashamed that I had such a meager wardrobe. What I brought with me was the best of the clothes that was available to me. Everything else had blood stains on them from my many beatings.

Jenn said, "You I would need to get your ears pierced and get some makeup and clothes at the mall."

I was not quite exactly how I was going to manage that trick work out as I only had a few clothes to wear and they seriously needed a wash. Jenn measured me from head to toe and then left. The only clothes I had were not nearly enough to get me through a week.

A few hours later, Jenn arrived at home with 4
bags of clothes, makeup and jewelry. She told me, "Strip and then go to the bathroom and shave your body clean."

I did. I had a really stunned look on my face as I went. I was scared and seriously pondered my choice to leave and start anew. I also knew in the
back of my mind I made the right choice, I think!

90 minutes later, I was clean and smelling pretty. Seeing how I did not need that much padding for my chest as I was already a size 'A' breast, Jenn assisted me with a bra and told me to try on the panties she got for me. I did with much hesitation. Three hours later I found myself absolutely gorgeous. My skirt was knee length (grey) and a light pink top. My hair was below my shoulders (auburn). I found myself staring at my reflection.

I was finally seeing the beautiful woman that was hidden under all of the dross. I was a phoenix arising from the flames of my pyre. I was the Rose, blooming after a most bitter winter
into a spring of new hope. I was the Princess from the fairytales. I was more, much more than I ever hoped to be.

Jenn broke my interlude by saying "Lets go."

I was stunned and shocked at this. So I asked, "Where are we going?"

"Shopping," she smiled.

I was extremely nervous, scared and a bit excited. I managed to hold my composure as we left for the Woolco store in the mall (now Wal-Mart). I really had my doubts as to my course here.

I was literally, a babe in the woods, I had no concept of the dangers that awaited me nor the refuge that I would find. I was very much like a ship without a sail, and Jenn was my lighthouse, my hope and sanctuary. She was my port in the storm of life, and would be for years to come as I sought my own way in life. At the time, I did not know that she would be waiting for me in Heaven, one day. All that I knew was that she was my Angel.

My plans! My future! What life could I
possible hold? I am small town girl, yes I considered myself a girl at this point. As we walked in the store which was enormous, we headed for the intimates section.

I told her, "Jenn, I cannot afford this stuff," I cried.

She replied, "Do not worry about it, you can pay me back sometime."

I was shocked when we left as I had 4 new bras, three skirts, 3 matching tops and heels, the highest was 3 inches. I preferred my 2 inch heels though which were black and had CZ studs on the straps. (my favorite, I still wear them today. I also have a pair that have real diamonds on the strips).

Two Hours later we arrived back at her apartment, and I unloaded my clothes. I eventually tried all my clothes on and settled on my grey/black a-line miniskirt and light grey tank top (cut off at the navel). We went out for dinner that night. I also made notes as to what it cost so I could reimburse Jenn later.

^^^^^

I guess at
this point I should mention to you the reader a bit about my friend Jennifer, well she was 5'8 approximately 150 and athletic, she went to school in the city. She was in grade 11. And at 17 was also working as a waitress in a coffee shop. I had met her at a 4H meet. Over the years she became my source of inspiration and remained friends until she passed away in 2000. When she passed away, I lost my Best Friend. I never thought that I would find another until Melanie arrived and a special man who I wish that I could meet, Stanman63.

''''''''''''''''

We eventually went out and met some of her friends. Abby was 5'4 and quite shy, not like the famous advice columnist, Dear Abby. Marissa was 5'9 and very talkative and loud, very much the Italian girl that her name promised. There were a few guys there which I assumed were the girls' boyfriends. Allan was seated with Marissa, and Kent was with Abby.

Unbeknownst to me that night would
be the start of something new. We were eventually joined by a few other of Jenn's male high school friends. Tim was 6'2 and very muscular. Adam was the complete opposite of Tim, he was 5'7 and skinny (not nerd skinny) just nice looking in his jeans. I found out that both played on the football team and were seniors.

I knew that Adam started to look at me with interest. After all the introductions were made and some small talk exchanged. We went out and walked to the park, which was a quarter mile away. The girls paired off with their boyfriends and I was stuck talking with Adam and Tim. I was very nervous and somewhat skittish at this point. I knew Adam started to chat with me. Not paying much attention to what was going on. He slipped his arm around my waist and we started to walk a fare distance away from the rest of them. I wondered where Tim had disappeared to and Adam told me that he decided that a "fifth wheel" was not needed here and he
left.

Adam started a conversation with me by asking me, "Where are you from?"

I answered very quietly, "A few hours drive south of the city,"

"How do you know Jenn?"

"I met her at 4H meet."

"Do you go to school in the city?"

"I am out of school right now."

"How old are you?"

"I am only 15 years old."

"How long are you going to stay in the city?"

"I am not sure how long I am going to stay here in the city," I sighed.

He touched my shoulder, and saw the bruises, "Why the bruises?"

"I fell."

I did not realize that I was still bruised on my stomach and shoulder. That was from the last beating my dad gave me. I do not heal well from injuries. Anyhow our conversation was light and I began to warm up to him in a big way. He eventually put his arm around me and we kissed my first real kiss from a nice guy. However my thoughts were conflicting.

Do I
tell him? Do I submit to him like I have done before? Do I feel the need to be loved? Those questions I would never have answered because the next few minute's things changed as I was lowered to the grass and was kissed quite harshly and then I was punched and then my hell began again. I submitted to his advances and I took him into my mouth when he stripped to his underwear. He called me a slut, whore and a freak.

Somehow I guess he must have figured things out for himself and knew what and who I was. He abused me that night in the park and raped me just like my father and brother had. I realized that this was going to me my path from now on. Or at least till it either killed me or I killed myself over this. I began my life as a teenage prostitute.

I guessed that life does go on and well, life for me will go on, just not the way I had envisioned for my self as major changes occurred that night. The scars will remain and I have
changed. For better or worse, my future would only tell me that if I survived it, that is.

**

Of interest the park is Patricia Park. The store was located at the north end of the city. Jenn lived four blocks from there. Woolco was the anchor store to the mall here in the city and eventually was changed over in the mid nineteen eighties.

After my Brutal rape and assault by Adam, I sat down and talked with Jenn about what had transpired. She asked me how I felt.

"How do you feel about what happened to you? I know you went through hell with your dad and brother, how do feel about a repeat?"

"Well, I am scared like hell and upset, I just can not make sense of this whole episode. Is this the life I want or am destined to live?"

"I am not sure I can answer that for you. Hun that is something you and you alone have to decide."

"How?"

"Take it one day at a time, and DO NOT let anybody get you down."

All I could do was nod my head as if in agreement. I decided then that I would not let Adam, or any other man destroy me. They might rape, or abuse me, even kill me, but they would never own my
soul.

"Thanks, Jenn, I need your wisdom."

"Did you enjoy it."

"In a sense, I did, it was a sense of belonging, a sense of love."

All she could do was shake her head. I truly believe that years after all this personal hell I went through; she was the one person that never criticized me or my actions. I did not know it at the time, there were others who would become my friends as she had become. I had yet to meet Melanie Dixon, nor my friends at Big Closet, of whom Stanman63 would become very close in the end.

+++++

Several days past and I were dressed in my tight black skirt and white tank top. I decided to go for a walk while Jenn was at work. I wandered down to the local video arcade and some other minor shops along 12th Avenue . I was simply enjoying being a girl, free from the hell that was my life.

I entered the jewelry shop and browsed about. I ended up purchasing three pair of earrings, whales,
dolphins and starfish, I still have them today. I then ventured to the video arcade as I
was very curious as to what was there. I had never been subjected to video games or the like. I did not know what pinball was, or even Pac-Man. The only games that I knew about were board games and card games such ass Rummy, and Old Maid.

Growing up in rural Canada , you only had three television channels, two local ones and a French station. Upon entering the arcade that did I spot but Adam, and he noticed me right off the bat. He came over to me and said "Hi."

I just nodded my head. He took my hand and led me to the open area of the arcade where his friends were. I was introduced to 5 guys, Ken, Gordon, Phil, and Stan. After introductions were made, the guys went and finished doing whatever it is what guys do in an arcade. Adam stayed by my side. He had a firm grip on my hand and wouldn't let go. I finally broke the silence between us by asking,
"Why did you rape me last night?"

He smiled and said, "I wanted to cause you were too
much of a slut, and deserved to be raped."

"That was mean and nasty; don't you care about me? Or is all sex with you?"

He nodded his head and said, "Both."

I had a quizzical look on my face and asked him. "If you cared then why rape me?"

He said, "Cause he wanted to and I was going to regardless if you wanted it or not!"

"No girl likes such an attitude! You would NEVER do that to Jenn!"

Because I can do what I want with girls and I KNOW I can with you!"

I was shaking by this time and told him, "I have to go, Jenn will soon be home, and I need to go."

He kissed me hard and winked at me then stated, "We shall meet again for more fun, very soon."

-----------------

I arrived home 20 minutes later and told Jenn what happened. All she did was nod her head and said, "It's your choice how you
want to live, hun."

After dinner Adam showed up and things progressed from there, I went out
with him, reluctantly, and we met his friends and well I ended up doing them all more than once in both my mouth and rear. I was so sore and crying when I arrived home several hours later, that I crawled into the tub and cried some more and tried to wither the pain away. The next day, Jenn was gone before I woke up. I made a decision, while I ate. I wrote a note to Jenn.

Dearest Jenn,

I have decided on my path and that is a life that was set by my father and my family. I am leaving here and will contact you when I reach my destination. I will be on the road for a while. I have no idea for how long. I am not sure what I will do. I do know that I will somehow manage. I love you and as a friend I will cherish that friendship forever. Please do not worry. I will contact you when I can.

Love

Melissa

PS. If for some reason
you are contacted by Adam, tell him you have no idea where I went.

/////

I set off
to go north. There was a city about two and a half hours away. I began my life on the road and my survival. I was not sure what I would find, yet alone what I could do. I had run away from the only friend that I had because of Adam. I could not stay and become his personal whore, and I did not want Jenn to get hurt defending me. THAT would have destroyed what was left of my spirit.

I was only a grade eight graduate and well not many opportunities for a grade eight young boy that looks like a girl. I had grown my hair out and was a lovely dark red and wearing heels and a short mini skirt I was statuesque at 6 feet 2. I was still rail thin and today I am still relatively sexy, I think. I found a small place not far from the main drive and settled into this place, it was low cost hotel, fifteen dollars a day or a monthly rate of two hundred. All
it was a bedroom with a bathroom, and small kitchen. The television had more channels, thanks to the
cable, but I seldom had time for watching it.

I began my street education that night when a guy of about 40 years old paid me $200 for sex. I was not looking for anything just walking to the store. It dawned on me afterwards, that I could make some serious money at this, each hour or so I was making money. A tall Asian male approached me and told me, you can work for me."

I told him, "No, thank you."

Several others whom had witnessed the conversation told him, "Don't push it, she is with us."

Wow I thought, 'New in town and new to this and I began to make friends right away.'

The first girl I met was Mandi, the second was Trish and the third and forth were Cathi and Claire. This guy never stood a chance with them let alone with me. I soon began making serious money and by the end of that first night I think I made
about $400. Mind you I had been out there for at least eleven hours.

I decided to make a effort to
get a bank account and save some money so if there was a chance of going to school I could, or anyplace I ended up I might settle down. Even then, I wanted a Home of my own, a place where I could forget my living hell and put aside my past.

As the nights and weeks passed on I ended up leaving to go west and see what was out there. I had written a letter to Jenn saying I was okay and not to worry. I made about $5,000 for the time I was with the girls working on the corners and making many good clients. One client I really got to know and always tipped me more than I felt I was worth. His name was Kendal; he was some hot shot business type.

I moved on and kept making friends and doing my nightly strolls on the corners, mostly by bars and disco's etc. I ended up banking a lot of what I made, anyhow. I was propositioned by a lot of guys
that told me I could work for them and they would give a great life. Yeah, right. I became very street wise
and savvy, I had worked in two cities so far. Who knew that this skinny little freak that my parents called me would be this street wise girl and would not take shit from anyone?

I guess from looking back now, I know I messed up while on the streets. I will always hold what I did it for survival. I gained my self esteem back and some self worth. Even it is well misplaced. I was living my life away from the living hell that I came from. I had taken that hell and had turned it into my way to survive. Never more would I let myself be hurt as I had been, I might get raped, but more often than not, I got well paid for my services.

I had a lot of regular clients and always treated them to the best time they ever had. I worked from 3 in the afternoon to well past dawn the following morning. Sometimes 16--18 hours a day. The money was not
great. However, it helped me live as best I could. Things could have been much worse. I could have become a
part of some stable of company whores, strung out on drugs.

I always wore tight short mini skirts and low tops and my breast began to grow as I was able to get birth control pills at the pharmacy or from my friends. Luckily, the pills did not damage my liver as they could have. These pills were prescription drugs, not black market pills sold to the unwary. Where ever we went after work, we were gawked at and even propositioned and sometimes we took those new clients to new heights of pleasure.

I was raped and began to actually enjoy it. I found that after each of the encounters, I was seeking love, acceptance and approval from my potential clients that I craved from my family. I received payment for this.

After 5 months there in the north, I went west by Greyhound and found a different style of clients. These were rich and
would pay a lot to have a "girl" like me. By that, I mean a girl in transition into becoming a woman, or a
hermaphrodite. The times were rich and the men were hot and horny. I grew in both strength and stamina. I found that I could go all night if I had to with certain clients. I will let you know I never drank or did any drugs while I was doing this and I am proud I never did.

I stuck with drinking coffee, tea, or a soda. I never could stand the taste of beer or most alcoholic beverages, except for wine or champagne. Those, I stayed away from, If I let myself go, I would be enslaved to alcohol and drugs soon after. I had heard too many horror stories from my fellow streetwalkers about how an innocent had died after succumbing to the wiles of a client or her john.

After 3 months there and made a lot of money I ventured west farther than I expected. I ended up near the Pacific Ocean . I relished the scenery, the skyline, the air of the
city. I found the ocean air to be invigorating, the constant crash of the surf to be awe inspiring as the waves
churned against the shore in the never ending dance of Nature's beauty.

I started working the streets in late January of my 16th year. I guess I had been on the road doing my thing for almost a year and a half when I ended up on the coast. I stayed there working till late summer, when I got bored and headed back east, not knowing or really caring where I would end up. Several days later, I ended up 8 hours from where I first started off so many months before in the city where Jenn lived.

I guess it became routine for me, I would pick up my clients on the main drag and then have the required sex and then get dropped off. I did make a lot of friends in this line of work and we came to protect each other. We had a system, if you could call it that. You see, if we were not back in a specific time then, one would ask his/her client
for help finding us. I developed a habit where I would write the plate numbers of my clients down, and I kept my
journal with me each and every night that I was strolling for money.

I stayed there for 7 months before I got bored and decided to head west again to the boom town as I call it and see if I could make some more money. My life on the road of pleasure/pain/enjoyment: No, I hardly think so. I do know this, though I grew up really quickly after I left home which seemed a lifetime ago, and I guess it was. I continued to write Jenn when and where I could. I guess my road life was beneficial and yet continued my suffering and pain.

** Footnote here. The west coast city I was at before heading east made a lot of headlines recently with Robert Picton. I strolled the same street corners as the girls he murdered.

After my Brutal rape and assault by Adam, I sat down and talked with Jenn about what had transpired. She asked me how I felt.

"How do you feel about what happened to you? I know you went through hell with your dad and brother, how do feel about a repeat?"

"Well, I am scared like hell and upset, I just can not make sense of this whole episode. Is this the life I want or am destined to live?"

"I am not sure I can answer that for you. Hun that is something you and you alone have to decide."

"How?"

"Take it one day at a time, and DO NOT let anybody get you down."

All I could do was nod my head as if in agreement. I decided then that I would not let Adam, or any other man destroy me. They might rape, or abuse me, even kill me, but they would never own my soul.

"Thanks, Jenn, I need your wisdom."

"Did you enjoy it."

"In a sense, I did, it was a sense of belonging, a sense of love."

All she could do was shake her head. I truly believe that years after all this personal hell I went through; she was the one person that never criticized me or my actions. I did not know it at the time, there were others who would become my friends as she had become. I had yet to meet Melanie Dixon, nor my friends at Big Closet, of whom Stanman63 would become very close in the end.

+++++

Several days past and I were dressed in my tight black skirt and white tank top. I decided to go for a walk while Jenn was at work. I wandered down to the local video arcade and some other minor shops along 12th Avenue . I was simply enjoying being a girl, free from the hell that was my life.

I entered the jewelry shop and browsed about. I ended up purchasing three pair of earrings, whales, dolphins and starfish, I still have them today. I then ventured to the video arcade as I was very curious as to what was there. I had never been subjected to video games or the like. I did not know what pinball was, or even Pac-Man. The only games that I knew about were board games and card games such ass Rummy, and Old Maid.

Growing up in rural Canada , you only had three television channels, two local ones and a French station. Upon entering the arcade that did I spot but Adam, and he noticed me right off the bat. He came over to me and said "Hi."

I just nodded my head. He took my hand and led me to the open area of the arcade where his friends were. I was introduced to 5 guys, Ken, Gordon, Phil, and Stan. After introductions were made, the guys went and finished doing whatever it is what guys do in an arcade. Adam stayed by my side. He had a firm grip on my hand and wouldn't let go. I finally broke the silence between us by asking, "Why did you rape me last night?"

He smiled and said, "I wanted to cause you were too much of a slut, and deserved to be raped."

"That was mean and nasty; don't you care about me? Or is all sex with you?"

He nodded his head and said, "Both."

I had a quizzical look on my face and asked him. "If you cared then why rape me?"

He said, "Cause he wanted to and I was going to regardless if you wanted it or not!"

"No girl likes such an attitude! You would NEVER do that to Jenn!"

Because I can do what I want with girls and I KNOW I can with you!"

I was shaking by this time and told him, "I have to go, Jenn will soon be home, and I need to go."

He kissed me hard and winked at me then stated, "We shall meet again for more fun, very soon."

-----------------

I arrived home 20 minutes later and told Jenn what happened. All she did was nod her head and said, "It's your choice how you want to live, hun."

After dinner Adam showed up and things progressed from there, I went out with him, reluctantly, and we met his friends and well I ended up doing them all more than once in both my mouth and rear. I was so sore and crying when I arrived home several hours later, that I crawled into the tub and cried some more and tried to wither the pain away. The next day, Jenn was gone before I woke up. I made a decision, while I ate. I wrote a note to Jenn.

Dearest Jenn,

I have decided on my path and that is a life that was set by my father and my family. I am leaving here and will contact you when I reach my destination. I will be on the road for a while. I have no idea for how long. I am not sure what I will do. I do know that I will somehow manage. I love you and as a friend I will cherish that friendship forever. Please do not worry. I will contact you when I can.

Love

Melissa

PS. If for some reason you are contacted by Adam, tell him you have no idea where I went.

/////

I set off to go north. There was a city about two and a half hours away. I began my life on the road and my survival. I was not sure what I would find, yet alone what I could do. I had run away from the only friend that I had because of Adam. I could not stay and become his personal whore, and I did not want Jenn to get hurt defending me. THAT would have destroyed what was left of my spirit.

I was only a grade eight graduate and well not many opportunities for a grade eight young boy that looks like a girl. I had grown my hair out and was a lovely dark red and wearing heels and a short mini skirt I was statuesque at 6 feet 2. I was still rail thin and today I am still relatively sexy, I think. I found a small place not far from the main drive and settled into this place, it was low cost
hotel, fifteen dollars a day or a monthly rate of two hundred. All it was a bedroom with a bathroom, and small kitchen. The television had more channels, thanks to the cable, but I seldom had time for watching it.

I began my street education that night when a guy of about 40 years old paid me $200 for sex. I was not looking for anything just walking to the store. It dawned on me afterwards, that I could make some serious money at this, each hour or so I was making money. A tall Asian male approached me and told me, you can work for me."

I told him, "No, thank you."

Several others whom had witnessed the conversation told him, "Don't push it, she is with us."

Wow I thought, 'New in town and new to this and I began to make friends right away.'

The first girl I met was Mandi; the second was Trish and the third and forth were Cathi and Claire. This guy never stood a chance with them let alone with me. I soon began making serious money and by the end of that first night I think I made about $400. Mind you I had been out there for at least eleven hours.

I decided to make a effort to get a bank account and save some money so if there was a chance of going to school I could, or anyplace I ended up I might settle down. Even then, I wanted a Home of my own, a place where I could forget my living hell and put aside my past.

As the nights and weeks passed on I ended up leaving to go west and see what was out there. I had written a letter to Jenn saying I was okay and not to worry. I made about $5,000 for the time I was with the girls working on the corners and making many good clients. One client I really got to know and always tipped me more than I felt I was worth. His name was Kendal; he was some hot shot business type.

I moved on and kept making friends and doing my nightly strolls on the corners, mostly by bars and disco's etc. I ended up banking a lot of what I made, anyhow. I was propositioned by a lot of guys that told me I could work for them and they would give a great life. Yeah, right. I became very street wise and savvy, I had worked in two cities so far. Who knew that this skinny little freak that my parents called me would be this street wise girl and would not take shit from anyone?

I guess from looking back now, I know I messed up while on the streets. I will always hold what I did it for survival. I gained my self esteem back and some self worth. Even it is well misplaced. I was living my life away from the living hell that I came from. I had taken that hell and had turned it into my way to survive. Never more would I let myself be hurt as I had been, I might get raped, but more often than not, I got well paid for my services.

I had a lot of regular clients and always treated them to the best time they ever had. I worked from 3 in the afternoon to well
past dawn the following morning. Sometimes 16--18 hours a day. The money was not great. However, it helped me live as best I could. Things could have been much worse. I could have become a part of some stable of company whores, strung out on drugs.

I always wore tight short mini skirts and low tops and my breast began to grow as I was able to get birth control pills at the pharmacy or from my friends. Luckily, the pills did not damage my liver as they could have. These pills were prescription drugs, not black market pills sold to the unwary. Where ever we went after work, we were gawked at and even propositioned and sometimes we took those new clients to new heights of pleasure.

I was raped and began to actually enjoy it. I found that after each of the encounters, I was seeking love, acceptance and approval from my potential clients that I craved from my family. I received payment for this.

After 5 months there in the north, I went west by Greyhound and found a different style of clients. These were rich and would pay a lot to have a "girl" like me. By that, I mean a girl in transition into becoming a woman, or a hermaphrodite. The times were rich and the men were hot and horny. I grew in both strength and stamina. I found that I could go all night if I had to with certain clients. I will let you know I never drank or did any drugs while I was doing this and I am proud I never did.

I stuck with drinking coffee, tea, or a soda. I never could stand the taste of beer or most alcoholic beverages, except for wine or champagne. Those, I stayed away from, If I let myself go, I would be enslaved to alcohol and drugs soon after. I had heard too many horror stories from my fellow streetwalkers about how an innocent had died after succumbing to the wiles of a client or her john.

After 3 months there and made a lot of money I ventured west farther than I expected. I ended up near the Pacific Ocean . I relished the scenery, the skyline, the air of the city. I found the ocean air to be invigorating,
the constant crash of the surf to be awe inspiring as the waves churned against the shore in the never ending dance of Nature's beauty.

I started working the streets in late January of my 16th year. I guess I had been on the road doing my thing for almost a year and a half when I ended up on the coast. I stayed there working till late summer, when I got bored and headed back east, not knowing or really caring where I would end up. Several days later, I ended up 8 hours from where I first started off so many months before in the city where Jenn lived.

I guess it became routine for me, I would pick up my clients on the main drag and then have the required sex and then get dropped off. I did make a lot of friends in this line of work and we came to protect each other. We had a system, if you could call it that. You see, if we were not back in a specific time then, one would ask his/her client for help finding us. I developed a habit where I would write the plate numbers of my clients down, and I kept my journal with me each and every night that I was strolling for money.

I stayed there for 7 months before I got bored and decided to head west again to the boom town as I call it and see if I could make some more money. My life on the road of pleasure/pain/enjoyment: No, I hardly think so. I do know this, though I grew up really quickly after I left home which seemed a lifetime ago, and I guess it was. I continued to write Jenn when and where I could. I guess my road life was beneficial and yet continued my suffering and pain.

** Footnote here. The west coast city I was at before heading east made a lot of headlines recently with Robert Picton. I strolled the same street corners as the girls he murdered.

This is maybe not what you think, then again, maybe it might be. You see, I never went home. I would never want to return to that farm where I had been raped and abused by those who should have cherished me. No, instead, I went back to meet with Jenn and some of the friends I knew, there. But I had a slight fear when I returned, a fear that I would run into that little creep Adam, and suffer another rape by him and his friends. I was also afraid that I would run into my 'parents'. I was frightened, actually that if they caught me, that they would either kill me, or take me prisoner. I also knew that there was no chance in hell I would go back to that hellhole.

I guess in a way I grew up really quickly. I sure had a lot of thoughts and feelings about what I was doing, and they scared me to death at
times. They were dark, and full of the bitter anger and hurt that I had suffered. Could I inflict such bestial hurt on another? Could I take the innocence of a child? Luckily, I never did, but that temptation would stay with me for years to come.

I wondered what kind of reception I would have when I went home to see Jenn. She told me I could stay with her. She had moved to a better apartment downtown with cheaper rent. She still worked at her job and was taking some courses in management at the local college, too.

When I pulled myself off the Greyhound bus at 7:A.M. in the morning, after a day and a half of riding the bus, I was tired and needed a meal. Dear Jenn, ever the sweet lady that she was, hugged me and welcomed me home, never mentioning the fact that I stunk from the trip. She said, "You look all worn out and old. I felt I was old, she cried as we renewed our friendship.

"Jenn, I FEEL old, older than you and I put together!"

She grinned, then let Momma Jenn work her magic and erase away al of those extra years."

She let me into her apartment and shooed me into the shower so that I could wash away the road filth. After the shower, I found a warm, fuzzy towel waiting for me, and underwear and a nightshirt, too.

I gained age while on the road. I sure felt like I was in my mid thirties by the time I got myself settled on her couch that night, eating pizza and simply being together. No words were spoken about my life that night, by mutual, silent consent, tonight was for us. And that night will be one of the very few nights that I was at peace.

.............

The following day, I decided to simply lounge about, while Jenn went shopping. I was still tired and looked very much like 'hell'. Trust me I felt like it, as well. After a bit of breakfast that Jenn had lovingly prepared for me, I cleaned up a lot, and did my laundry which
needed it seriously. I had stains on my skirts, jacket and tops. I also had a soaking bath, I had mentioned to Jenn if I got the gumption that I would venture to the bank. I did not as I was wakened by Jenn several hours later. I fell asleep in the tub. How stupid to do that! Now, I hurt even worse that I was when I arrived on the bus. Sheesh. I decided to talk to her about my travels.

***********

(here I will use the Initials of the two people conversing)

J: "I am anxious to hear your stories of your trips."

M: "Very exciting and very painful at times."

J: "What do you mean Painful?"

M: "Being raped, and sometimes abused by my clients."

The look on her face was somewhat pale. We continued.

M: "I traveled to five cities, I met a lot of people and I had some interesting experiences."

J: "How so?" she asked with concern.

M: "Well, I would be picked up on the corner and taken to a
secluded area and was given money. I only charged what I knew I wanted and I guess I was a cheap hooker. I would charge $20 for a BJ, $40 for a fuck and $50 for the both."

Her eyes bulged out when I stated that. She got really concerned with my last statement. I cut her off before I knew what her question was going to be.

"NO, I do not have any STD's. I got checked every week by the walk in clinics." I felt a sense of relief come over her when I stated that.

Then she asked, "You meet any rich guys?"

I told her about my seventeenth birthday experience with Tony. How he treated me, I mentioned to her about the infatuation I had with him. I told her that I thought it was more than that. I told her that I was lonely. I cried. I poured my soul to her that night. I told her I questioned my existence on this Earth: my purpose, my hope, my somewhat desires. I also told her my thoughts about ending my life as well.

She grew quite concerned and said, "DON'T you ever talk shit like that, EVER! You got out of one situation when you got the hell out of there, do not put yourself in that fucking situation again! I will damned well make sure you do not kill yourself!"

I got quiet and my tears flowed. Yes I was scared, anyone would be. I was frightened that I would lose myself in this lifestyle, my future, and my friends. (What few I had...Just Jenn now and the few I knew off the streets. I also knew I had to seriously decide what I wanted to do. Her defiance for me sparked off a part of my spirit, long denied. Could I actually become something other than a common whore?

The next morning, I woke up and left to go to the bank. You see, after every trick I pulled and every night I finished I went and put money in my bank account. I guess you could say a rainy day fund. I just was not sure when or what I would use it for. Here I was a teenaged whore with an eighth
grade education, no diploma, and no valid I.D.

I was so scared and the psychological tests had been done. I was damaged goods. I knew it. I believed that Jenn knew it as well. Mind you as I look back she never mentioned it to me. I believe that she knew I was
damaged and I feel that she knew there was no hope for me. I felt as though that I failed her, failed life in general. I failed my parents by not living up their standards. I had failed because I was a girl born in the wrong body, and when I as discovered wearing my 'mother's' dress, I became the 'family' whipping post, daily raped and abused until I ran away. I was in essence damaged and I came to believe I was not going to be fixed.

I continued my hormones and I had a good looking figure, however I was emaciated and needed to put some weight on. Not a chance! Do not get me wrong here, I was not anorexic. I just had a high metabolism and I ate what I wanted to. I did look ragged, and old. Shit! I only wish that things were different. You see, it was the time of the 80's punk rock, short skirts made a comeback, shit I was wearing them all the time. No comeback for me, they were my standard clothing options as were tight tops and heels.

I seriously began to question why I had come back here. I felt that Jenn knew there was something wrong and never touched that subject with me. I stayed with her for 2 weeks and broached the subject with her.

"Jenn, this is not for me, the rest and relaxation. I have to keep going. I would end up dead doing this for a living." I told her my fears and my awful nightmares I had since I was with her again. I never did tell her how I felt about her though. I loved her like my sister, and I guess she was in a sense. I think she knew it too, although we never talked about it.

The following Sunday, we went for breakfast at A&W and then I was off to the Wild West via the Greyhound again. To parts unknown at that time. I just went. I told her that I would call and or write. She asked me to call her and let me know where I ended up. I told her I would.

**********

I set off on my ever ending life on the road and some sort of semblance to my sanity. I do not think I had sanity or sense. I guess I failed there as well. Was my life a failure? I think it was as I look back on it then. We had a very tearful good bye at the bus depot. Oh well, I had my meager belongings. My knapsack was full of my clothes and my journal books I kept with me. I set out. SHIT! When will it be over? Will IT? NOT FUCKING LIKELY?

I called Jenn and let her know where I was I was in oil country and I tended to like the place. I got a room near the same place as I had before and, I settled in that very night, strolling the corners and bars looking for my tricks. A long night and yes a very long five months that would turn out to be for me.

Yes, I missed Jenn. I wondered as I got back to my small hole in the wall place if I would ever see her again. I hoped that she would do well and not worry about me. I somehow knew that was going to be false. I knew she cared about me. She was probably the only one that did then.

I struggled with sleep that night and the next night (actually daytime). My few hours of sleep I did get were few and far between. I was soon back into my routine, sixteen hours a day. Making money and selling my ass to get it. I began to feel I was a failure, that I was a nothing, an object of desire for being a trannie. I began to see where I had so much loss, and yet I knew this was my life and possible future. A street whore, nobody wanted and no one to properly love me. I was lost.

I looked for those few brief moments of love and acceptance while strolling the streets and it was satisfaction. I wondered if I would ever find "true love" or "true happiness" as they say. I began to believe that there was no FUCKING WAY. I was useless as a human being, worthless. I was being used and I actually loved it. I was accepted, I was cared for by the other girls and guys on the corners and in some instances there was a shred of concern from my clients. I had some serious issues. I knew it. I was hopeless.... I was defeated.... I was a loser.... A failure.... I began to believe there was no help for me. I was in hell and it was the worst kind of hell. I guess you could say I went back to the beginning.....
OR DID I............

I began to wonder if I could escape this hell, without suicide. I wanted to live, even with my nightmares and scars. I pondered this question for some time now. I was now away from any kind of normal existence for almost two years. NOW, I began to question the standards that I set for life. I started to ask, by what by standards life is considered normal I certainly did not describe myself as such. How could I?

I was confused, and completely lost at 15, and very much insecure about life. In my many journeys across the country in the last two years I began to correlate my thoughts and feelings. Was there a resolution for me? I often thought 'NO WAY!' I guess I never gave it consideration after I left Jenn. I traveled west and set up "camp" and did my thing.

My thoughts and my dreams were I suppose just
a dream. I knew this in the back of my mind. In a way, they helped me to maintain my hold on my sanity. I also realized that I hadn't lost my childhood, my freedom, and my hopes when I left home at 15. Rather I escaped hell on earth then. Was I better for doing that? Was I good person for doing it? Would there be retribution for what I was doing?

There was a lot of internal confusion. I still struggle with those questions and many others today. But now, I do have Peace in my Heart. I know now that I am no longer alone. My resolve never ended as I walked and performed my nightly duties. I still resolved that sooner or later I would either escape this or I would be killed from it. But I did escape, in the end. It was an escape that I never thought possible, then.

My hair was now quite long, almost to my waist at this time. I kept it well groomed. My complexion was clear, with no zits, thank God. I weighed 135 at last weigh in at the walk in clinic. Still I resolved to find some answers for myself here, one way or the other! In June I would encounter a life altering event that would give me some perspective and a possible resolution to this affair...

***************

the first part of June was a normal routine for me. I started my "shift" if you would call it that at approximately 5:P.M. I always perched myself out on the main drag and/or in the business area. I was always so successful, that I would get my tricks and my fun for the night with as many guys as possible. Yes, I craved sex! Not the brutal rapes and beatings, rather I craved the tender, loving, and gentle acts where I felt the love that I so desperately wanted.

I was not always alone on the corner though, a lot of girls and boys were also there and we had staked out certain parts of that street as our own. We all strolled and we always looked out for each other. Consequences for our nightly strolls were common occurrences. There were rape gangs, who sought us out for their fun, and there were the police who would either help, or hinder us, depending upon the cop,

Girls and guys would come home bloodied and bruised. I was not immune either. It was a painful reminder of my consistent abuse I had endured for so many years. Would it end? I certainly had no idea.

The nineteenth of June provided me with a resolution, and I was shocked and definitely scared to death as to how close I actually came to death that night. This I will remember to the day I die. Let me first start by going back to the start of the night.

The afternoon was hot and humid for a June day, mid 80's and I was dressed in my tight black mini with a red halter top (cross over, one shoulder bare). The make up was perfect. I had all the essentials in my purse. I guess that I had serviced about 14 guys by the time midnight arose.

I had also made some substantial earnings which I would check later, by my estimation, about $500.

You see, we Tran's girls were and still are paid quite generously. My clients always made me feel special. I know I did them. I was dropped off by my last "JOHN" at about 12:20 and started talking with some of the gals and guys at the corners. The streets were quit busy with cars, trucks vans, limos, etc. Even the bar crowds were venturing about in the hot humid night.

The next thing I knew I heard screams and shouts to get down. Everything went into slow motion as I heard shots from across the street where I was standing against the wall. What happened next, I will always remember.... My resolution came clear..........

Tragedy Of The Spirit-Revised
Chapter 12 Hope & Home, A New Life Perhaps?
By PrairieGirl64
Edited By Stanman63, Proofed By JennFl and Nora Adrienne

In no time at all, my life settled into something of a routine that saw me reverting to Andy during the week in order to attend class and then, as quickly as I could, assume my role as Amanda in the evenings and for the entire weekend. Having been something of a recluse and little more than another warm body in class during my first semester, Andy had few friends aside from Fred, my former roomie and Carl, who I knew only because we both worked at O'Shanahan's. So my change in routine didn't result in the need to sever any social ties or friendships. Nor did I see much of a need to be circumspect when attending class least someone with a keen eye and good memory for faces make the connection between Andy and Amanda. The student body was, after all, quite large and everyone more or less traveled within social circles that were pretty much defined by their majors. Even the students who resided in the dorms or belonged to frats more or less gravitated
toward others who took classes in the same departments as they did. In fact, the small group who had become involved in "The Project" and who worked at O'Shanahan's was probably the most eclectic collection of students I knew of.

There are of course always a couple of jokers in every deck of cards, wild cards that have the ability to undo even the best hand if it is not played well. In my case the joker turned out to be Helen White, the thirty something associate professor who was working on her doctorate in psychology while teaching at the university and, as the Fates would have it, just happened to live in the same building Sarah and I did. Not long after I had my run in with her in the laundry room I asked Kathy what she knew about Professor White. At the time Kathy knew precious little about the woman since she had never been in any of her classes. But she did promise to check with some of her friends who were in Professor White's classes and see what she could find out. In the meantime I did my best to make sure that I avoided her as best I could. I had thought that this would be easy, seeing as she lived on an entirely different floor and at the other end of the building.
What I had not counted on was an equally determined effort on her part to keep me from eluding her.

My second close encounter of the wrong kind with Professor White occurred where the first had, in the laundry room during the first week in March. It was a Saturday morning and as was my wont, I headed on down to do my laundry. With my mind on other matters I wasn't paying much attention to anything as I casually strolled into the laundry room. Spying an empty machine, a rarity on a Saturday morning, I made a bee line straight for it least someone materialize out of no where and claim it for themselves. It wasn't until I was in the midst of stuffing my clothes in it that a voice called out to me from the doorway. "Well, hello there."

Startled, I spun about. Standing there, blocking the only entrance and exit and holding a basket that wasn't even half full was Professor White. Smiling, she made her way over to a small table some of the tenants used for sorting and folding clothes. All the while her gaze remained locked on me like target acquisition radar tracking its next mark. "I've seen you around but we've never had a chance to speak." After setting her basket on the table, she made her way over to where I was standing. "I'm Helen White."

Unable to help myself, I stood there looking at her out stretched hand as if it were basilisk. Something about the manner with which this woman had responded to me the first time we'd bumped into each other and was doing so now caused me to become alarmed. But at the moment there was little I could do, least I give Professor White any additions reasons for being as suspicious of me as I was to her. With more trepidation than an occasion of this sort should have generated, I took her hand. "I'm Amanda, Amanda Newly. I. . . I live here."

"Yes, I know." Both her smile and the tone of her voice did nothing to sooth my nerves. Just what did she know, I found myself wondering as I quickly pulled my hand away and went back to what I had been doing, all the while trying to be as nonchalant as I could. It goes without saying to say I failed miserably in this. Since I had claimed the last machine and my detergent and half my laundry was already in it, there was no graceful way for me to excuse myself in order to flee. With no viable options open to me, I did everything I could to finish up what I was doing as quickly as I could. All the while Professor White stood behind me, watching my every move and making small talk that felt more like an interrogation than a congenial conversation. My crisp, almost curt replies did nothing to waylay her suspicions.

"I take it you're a student at the college?"

"Yes"

"What year?"

"Freshman. I'm a freshman."

"Oh, this must be so exciting to you then, your first year away at school, meeting so many new people and experiencing sooo many new and different things."

"Yes, exciting."

"What's your major, ah, Amanda, isn't it?"

"Yes, Amanda. Engineering."

"Well, that's quite an unusual major for a girl, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess." I know I should have said no, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly as I reeled under Professor White's barrage of probing questions and her penetrating gaze.

"Tell me Amanda, how are you finding your new life here?"

The manner with which she accentuated select words was extremely unnerving. It was as if she was telling me that she knew the truth, that my real name wasn't Amanda. Unable to bear up much longer, I dumped the rest of my basket in the machine, closed the lid, dialed up the wash setting and prepared to beat a hasty retreat without rendering any sort of answer to her final question. Instead, I gave her a weak smile. "I've, ah, gotta run, you know. I've got lots of things I, ah, need to do. Bye." With that, I all but fled. It wasn't exactly the smartest way to handle this situation, but at the moment it was the best I could do.
It didn't take long before I discovered just how badly I had blown that encounter. Even though I no longer lived on campus, I had kept my mailbox at the student union. It was a handy way of keeping my "Andy" mail from showing up at the apartment as well as giving my professors and the college a place to send all official correspondence and notices to me, the Andy me. At noon on the following Tuesday I stopped by to see if there was anything there. Mixed in with the usual trash mail and bills was a folded note with nothing more than my mailbox number on it. Opening it, I was stunned to see it was from Professor White. 'I would appreciate it,' the note read, 'if you would be so kind as to come by my office when you have a free moment. Helen White.' As disconcerting as that was, I all but fainted away when I read the P.S. at the bottom below a detailed listing of her office hours. 'Please feel free to do so as either Andy or Amanda.'

She did know. Just how she knew and what she intended to do with that knowledge was something I felt I needed to find out. Suspecting that Professor White would go out of her way to confront me back at the apartment building if I didn't meet her as requested, I screwed up my courage, tromped across campus to the Psychology Department as soon as my afternoon classes were over and made my way to her office. It was a small affair, not much more than an oversized closet. But it was quite private and, like the woman seated behind the non-descript desk, very orderly. Not that any of this mattered. For me it couldn't have been any more intimidating than if it had been decked out to resemble a medieval torture chamber.

Professor White was as pleasant as she could be as I crept into her lair. "Ah, I'm so glad that you came." My first thought was to blurt that I really didn't have much of a choice and that she knew it. Fortunately, I sided with discretion and kept my mouth shut. "Please, take a seat, ah . . ."

Her hesitation was deliberate, a test of sorts to see what name I would give her. Since I was wearing my male attire, it seemed appropriate to render my true name. "Andy."

I could tell by her expression that she had just made a mental note of my response before pressing on. "I'd like to apologize to you up front if my method of contacting you has inconvenienced you or caused you any concern." I wanted to brush aside her concerns for my feelings with some sort of show of bravado. But given the nature of the topic I suspected we were about to delve into and her professional background, I decided that this would be a wasted effort. So I restricted my efforts to a simple nod as I stared down at the toes of my sneakers "The reason I asked you here is to see if there was some way that I could help you."

Of all the things she could have said, that was the most surprising. Looking up, I could not keep from asking "How?"

"Before I answer that, it would be helpful if we took a few minutes to confirm my assumptions."

"Okay."

"Now, let's start with the reasons as to why you're cross dressing."

Not having heard that term applied to me despite the fact that it aptly described what I was doing, it rattled me a bit. In my mind cross dressers were weird guys who dressed in female clothes in order to satisfy some sort of fetish or to attract other men. Sensing that I was offended, Professor White backtracked a bit. "You do know what a cross dresser is, don't you?"

I nodded sheepishly. "Yes ma'am."

"My name is Helen. Please call me Helen."

"Yes Helen, I do know what they are."

"When you say they, does that mean you don't consider yourself to be one?"

Up to now this was one question I had never really needed to answer. Everyone who knew about Andy and Amanda had more or less agreed not to use any sort of labels or terms to describe what I was doing. Helen White, and the situation I found myself in left me unable to dodge her question. Confused and uncertain, I looked up at her and shrugged. "I really don't know what you would call what I'm doing."

"Well then, why don't you tell me about yourself, Andy and how it is that you came to begin living as Amanda."

With that, I opened up, describing in as much detail as I could about how 'The Project' had come about and what had occurred to date. About the only things I left out was any mention of any names, particularly Gabriel's and my dates with him. If Professor White suspected that I was holding back something, she didn't let on. Instead, she listened to what I had to say without commenting. Only when I stopped talking did she go back to pelting me with a fresh round of questions.

"Tell me, where do you see yourself in a year? Or, more correctly, how do you see yourself a year from now? As Andy? Or as Amanda?"

Like so many first year college students overwhelmed by their studies while struggling to adjust to life on their own, I wasn't thinking in terms of years but rather what do I need to do to in order to keep my head above water and survive another week. Again I replied with little more than a shrug and shake of my head. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
"Don't you think you should?"

"I imagine so. It's just that I haven't taken the time to think this thing out."

Before going any further, Professor White stood up from behind her desk and moved around it toward me, taking a seat next to mine in an effort to eliminate the superior-subordinate mentality and the accompanying tension that exists when one is before a person seated behind a desk. Rather than putting me at ease, however, her proximity only served to heighten my anxiety. "Like many of my peers, I detest snap diagnosis. But based on what you've told me so far, I dare say you're dealing with a crisis concerning your true gender identity."

For the first time I felt the need to defend myself. "There's no crisis," I all but blurted out without thinking.

"Oh? Explain."

"Explain what?"

"Biologically, you're male. Yet you have begun living and working as a female except for when you're in class. Is that right?"

Confused, I looked at her askew. "Yes, I imagine that's true. But there is no crisis."

"Then you see yourself as a female and not as a male."

"I didn't say that, Professor White, I mean Helen."

Sensing that I was becoming rattled and a bit agitated, Professor White decided that this would be a good time to change tack. "Have you thought about joining a support group with others who, like yourself, are exploring their gender identity? There's one right here on campus, you know."

Having checked into the organization she was talking about and read some of its literature, I'd considered attending one of its meetings but decided not to. There was something about its members and their agenda that was far too militant and in your face for my taste. Not knowing if Professor White was associated with the group or worked with any of its members, I didn't tell her this. Instead, I explained that the issues I had concerning my gender was something that was very personal, something that I wanted to keep as private as possible until I had a better handle on them.

Professor White nodded. "I understand. But don't you think you could probably use a little help from a professional who's familiar with this sort of thing? Someone who could help you with the college administration should you decide that you want to expand your world beyond your apartment and your work place?"

I was stunned by her offer. Not that she was willing to help, but that she was actually assuming that I wanted to become Amanda full time. Up to now this had been little more than an experiment that had grown out of a crazy bet that hand gotten out of hand. The idea of being a girl this twenty-four / seven, of changing my entire life had never entered my mind. And yet, rather than recoiling at her suggestion, as I sat there wondering how best to answer her, I found myself intrigued by what she was saying. Of all the strange twists and turns and unexpected developments that this day had yielded up, her offer and my reaction to it was proving to be most unnerving. I think Professor White sensed this for she decided to bring out little chat to a close. "I'd like you to think over what we've discussed and see me again here next week at the same time. Would that be possible?"

Realizing that I was venturing further and further into uncharted waters and would need someone in a position to serve as a navigator, I readily agreed. This pleased Professor White, not that I was interested at that moment with pleasing her. Something that Henry Weir had said concerning the law, and the way Oscar always looked at me was enough to convince me I needed some sort of guardian angle who had the knowledge and the ability to intervene on my behalf should I run afoul of the legal system. While I wasn't planning on doing anything stupid, I did appreciate the fact that since I had no idea where this was taking me, it might not be a bad idea to cover as many of the bases as I could.

**************
It was late afternoon by the time I left Professor White's office, reeling from my emotionally charged confrontation with her. Absentmindedly, I went wandering through the deserted halls of the Psychology department searching for the nearest exit. I must have really been zoning everything out because I never heard the hurried footfalls coming up behind me. It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I spun about and found myself facing Kathy Shaw. "What are you doing here?" she asked making no effort to hide her concern. Anxious to put as much distance between myself and Professor White's office, I asked if she could spare an hour or two, telling her that I really needed to talk to someone. Between my perplexed expression and her finding me here in this building, I guess she was able to put two and two together and come up with something more than the usual sum because she readily agreed. "Sure. How about we head over to The Pit.
Somehow I've got the feeling that you could use a drink."

At this time of day the place was pretty much deserted and the music wasn't cranked up as it tended to be later when the crowd swelled and the beer flowed. This allowed us to tuck ourselves away in a corner booth where I wasted no time in relating to her my latest adventure, soliciting her opinions as I did so. Wisely Kathy demurred from rendering any until she had heard everything. We'd pretty much polished off our first pitcher of beer by the time I was finished with my side of the story. Anxiously, I waited to hear what she had to say. Taking her time, Kathy mulled over what I had told her, sipping her beer as she pondered all aspects of the issue. Finally, when she was ready, she set her mug aside, reached across the table with both hands and grasped mine in hers. "Andy, do you really understand what Professor White is proposing?"

"I think so." Then, realizing that I wasn't exactly sure, I back peddled a bit. "Then again, maybe I don't. Do you know what she's up to?"

"Andy, it's not about what she's up to. It's what you're up to. Or more correctly, where you are at the moment and where this little project of ours is taking you."

"Explain please."

"It more or less boils down to the one question she asked you, the one that you told me you side stepped. Just h do you see yourself a year from now? As Andy? Or as Amanda?"

I had been thinking about that question a lot since Professor White had broached it. This time I was better prepared to answer it, or so I thought. "Why can't I be both? I mean, why can't I continue like I am?"

"Because I don't think you can," Kathy stated emphatically. "Going back and forth from one gender to the other isn't like changing your T-shirt."

"How would you know?"

Kathy didn't flinch or hesitate, leaving me to believe that she'd given the issue of my gender almost as much thought over the past weeks as I had. Of course, given that she was a psychology major, I guess it was only natural that she would do so. "Andy," she stated in a firm, yet gentle tone, "stop and think. Would you want to hang out with a person who showed up in class one day looking like an All American hero and the next wearing dress? Despite all the political correctness and tolerance bunk they force down our throats here, we live in a society where people still expect boys to be boys and girls to be girls. You lived in a dorm for a semester. You know what the guys say about men who's masculinity is in doubt." Pulling back, I picked up my mug and took a sip as I thought back to all the rude and crude things that my friends and I used to say about some of our classmates, both here and when I was still in high school. Kathy was right.

Sensing that she had hit the mark, she pressed her point home. "You can't stay perched on the fence forever. Nor can you hope to keep your duel life a secret. I mean, look at what's happened already in the first month. Everyone at O'Shanahan's now knows about Andy and Amanda. And without any help from them, Professor White was able to spot you for what you are. If you try to continue on like this without a definitive plan and some serious help, you'll find yourself having to deal with one crisis after another, some that may not have happy endings."

Sheepishly, I looked across the table at her. "Just what am I?"
Kathy took a moment to pull back and take long sip of her beer before she responded to my plaintive question. "Now understand from the get go, I'm only a freshman who happens to be majoring in psychology. And while I've done a great deal of research on this subject in the past month, I'm no expert."

"But you do have some sort of theory."

Kathy nodded. "Okay, here goes. I'm convinced you're not a cross dresser," she stated as she place her right hand on her chest. "That's someone who derives sexual gratification from wearing the clothing appropriate to the opposite gender." Her statement caused me to avert my eyes and blush. Quickly Kathy reached out and clasped my hand in an effort to reassure me. "Now, while I'm sure that you've probably found dressing to be stimulating, I believe there's more to this for you than simply getting your rocks off."

Ordinarily I would have reacted to this sort of statement with a quick rebuff or maybe even a joke. But to have done so would have been rude and would have detracted from the seriousness of our conversation. Instead, I simply asked how she could be so sure. "Andy, I've seen how you behave when you're Amanda. You're not treating this as if it were a lark or an excursion into some sort of sexual fantasy. You take your role as a female seriously, doing all you can to fit in and be as natural as you can."
"Well duh! I don't want to be caught and embarrassed in public, you know."

"There's more to it, Andy," Kathy countered without skipping a beat. "When you're Amanda, when you assume your female persona you glow. I knew you before we started this. I've seen how you respond to people, both in public and at O'Shanahan's as both Andy and Amanda. Once you, Amanda, managed to overcome your initial jitters, you became so much more lively, more energetic, more . . ."

Her pause and the way she averted her eyes as she thought about what she was going to say next caused me to become a bit concerned. "Yes?"

Kathy took a moment to take a deep breath. "Andy, I have no scientific way of quantifying what I am about to say. I can only tell you what I feel is based on what I've observed and what I know."

"Which is?"

Reaching out, Kathy took my beer mug and placed it in the center of the table before me. She then place hers right next to it before filling both up. "These mugs are the same, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"And their contents are exactly the same, correct?"

"They came from the same pitcher so yes, they are," I stated as I waited to see where she was going with this.

"And the amount in each mugs is the same, right?"

I nodded. "Yes, as far as I can see."

"Now, let's say that by drinking from this mug," she stated indicating the one on my right, "you would forever be Andy and by choosing the other, puff, you'd turn into Amanda. Which mug do you want to drink from?"

For the longest time I stared at the two beer mugs sitting before me, glancing from one to the other as my mind raced a mile a minute. As I did so Kathy leaned over the table, pushing the right mug closer to me, then the left whispering, "Andy, Amanda," as she did so. When I opted to pick neither, I looked up at her. "What if I refuse?"

The expression on Kathy's face was neither one of triumph or joy. But it did tell me that she was satisfied that she had made her point. Reaching out, she lifted the 'Andy' mug and took a sip. Finished, she looked me in the eye. "You're already Andy. You've been Andy for the past nineteen years so there was never a need to pick that option. That you hesitated, that you serious thought about taking the other mug tells me that you were considering the alternative."

I doubt if there's a psychology textbook that recommends using beer mugs to determine a person's gender orientation. But Kathy had managed to make her point. In doing so she stripped away any remaining illusions I had about the seriousness of what I was doing. Her little object lesson also answered, at least for now, the question that both Professor White and she had asked. For the first time I forced myself to gaze into my future and consider life as Amanda.?
In the midst of the gunshots I did not know where to go, so I ducked and covered up as best I could. This was the first time that I was involved in a shooting, I had heard about them from other
girls, though. Either their pimp or john would be involved in some skullduggery that would involve them as they were trying to get away from the violence. Unfortunately, some of the girls were shot, or get up to take the fall, instead of the real culprit.

*******************

All that I saw were flashes and then sparks and then quiet. The eerie quiet was priceless, the noise was non existent. There was not even a squeak from the rats and mice that surrounded the alley's trash cans. I lay still in the fetal position for maybe 20 minutes, it felt like a day. When I brought my head around to see the sight on the opposite corner, I saw the blood glistening as the street lights reflected off of its sheen. That was eerie, I have never seen that sight before, and never want to again, either.

There were 4 bodies in various positions laying about me, too. There was glass shattered about from car and shop windows, creating a mosaic of lights as the reflected back what
few streetlights there were. All I could hear was the sound of sirens as my head and ears began to clear. I looked at myself and I guessed I was safe from everything, I was wrong, however.

I was bleeding from my ankle. My shoes were off, my good high heeled shoes! DAMN, where were they? I located them about 4 feet behind me. My nylons were also a wreck, ripped and torn from my diving to the pavement. I looked up into the glass of a shop 3 feet from where my body lay. I saw that I looked like hell and my makeup was smeared as well as my mascara. I was shaking and very scared. My concern was, am I shot? All I remember was the shots and me going to the sidewalk. Did I pass out for a second? What was happening around me? I was not so sure anymore.

Mayhem erupted as police, ambulance and even fire personnel showed up. A lot of the girls that worked the corners had fled. But I stayed as I was shaken and not sure what was entirely happening. At
the time, I was too scared to move, believing that I was shot because of the blood that kept trickling off my ankle. My body hurt, my head hurt and I was a mess, and wanted to be back home with Jenn.

When the E.M.T.'s came across the street to asses me, I was in shock and could not speak. I remember this as it would haunt me for many years to come. They looked me over and pronounced me 'OK'. They found that I had concrete splinters in my ankle and my knee. I was cleaned up and asked to sit still till the detectives came to talk to me. I was so shaken, scared out of my wits. Would I go to jail, now? If so, would Jen be able to help me? Would she even visit me?

The detectives showed up and questioned me about what I saw. I related to them what I witnessed before I dove for cover, it was not a lot. I told them that I saw a white truck approach and drop a girl off and then a blue car sped toward the truck and stop rather abruptly. Three
people jumped out. The next thing I knew, there were shots going off like fireworks. Rapid fireworks. I told them I went down and then slowly got up when I thought every thing was OK.

Then a detective asked, "Do you know the girls names?"

"Not really, I only knew them by nicknames and by seeing them."

They scowled at me and I shrugged. I was cold and shaking. I was escorted to the ambulance and covered with a blanket and given some water. That night would change my existence on the streets for ever. I had survived for nearly 22 months living in cheap rooms and being abused, raped, "loved", and I thought I had found acceptance. A lot of burning questions arose that night for me. Going home? What was I going to do? Where was home? Will my life change? Yes, it had in a dramatic way.

******

I was shaking still when I arrived and entered my cheap room 4 hours later. I decided at that moment that I was done. I decided to
pack what meager belongings that I had and head to where ever I decided to end up. It was shame really. I look back and think to myself, 'Wow! I had a good life here on the streets. I felt loved, accepted and yes I made money. Take all the shit I endured growing up in that shit hole for a house with those "parents", this was a vacation for me. I belonged here. This was home! This was MY life! This was acceptable. OH my, I was so messed up? Or was I? Yes I was so screwed up, and I was scared of what my life was going to be. Did I have a life after this? What was I going to do?'

I packed up everything I had in my duffle bag and my small case. I went and sat on the couch and cried and cried. Mandy came in, She was one of the seven girls that lived in this tiny place. She looked very concerned.

Mandy: "What is going on? You leaving, me?"

I nodded my head.

Mandy got a worried look on her face, "What the hell went on? Where will
you go?"

I looked at her with tear streaked eyes and said, "Some asshole shot four girls and I have no idea where the hell I am going as yet, I have to get out of here."

Mandy, "What!!!! Who got shot? When? Were you there?"

I replied, "Yes, four girls were shot and I thought I was shot as well, I went down to protect myself. The cops were everywhere, ambulance and fire, I am so f'in pissed off right now I am so scared, I am going to have f'in nightmares after this, there was so much blood."

I think she saw me shaking so badly she came over to comfort me. I initially covered up to protect myself because of her quick movement towards me. I cried. She must have comforted me for a while, because I woke up several hours later, still shaking. I had decided to leave, set out for where ever I ended up. As usual, I went to the corner store and used the payphone and saw the yellow tape still around the scene. The street was still
blocked off and there were people with cameras and little things with numbers on them. I was shaking as I made my way to call Jenn. I was lucky in one respect she was out. I left a voice mail on her machine.

I told her I was OK, and that I would contact her when I had the next opportunity. I just never mentioned to her that I would be going back to see her. The thoughts ranged from school to my continued to life a prostitute, too run and keep running. The stairs to the room seemed long and endless. When I reached it I opened the door and grabbed my belongings and I left. No note, no goodbyes. I left. My future was definitely in my hands now. As unknown as it was going to be, it was MY LIFE.

******

When I stepped off the bus in my home city, I was dirty and needed a bath, so bad. I garnered a single seat near the back of the Greyhound bus so I was alone and able to sleep. The terminal was busy as I entered it and went straight to the
phones and called Jenn. This time I caught her.

Jenn, "Hello"

Me, "Hi Jenn, I am here."

Jenn, "Where are you?"

Me, "I'm at the bus station. Can you meet me?"

Jenn, "I can be there soon."

Me, "Good, I will see you soon."

I hung up and went to find a seat away from everyone. I looked like hell and I think it was noticed by those around me. I was wearing a torn skirt and top. My makeup was somewhat ok, not perfect. It was adequate. One hour and twenty minutes later, Jenn arrived and immediately saw me. She ran to me and hugged me. There was definite concern on her face. We left and went back to her place where she told me to clean up and we shall talk. That is exactly what went on. I took a long shower and dressed in tight jeans and pink cutoff top. I felt better, to a degree. I was not looking forward to talking with Jenn about this. I did.

Jenn, "What happened to you? I go scared when you called
me? I could not reach you?"

Me, "There was a shooting, I was slightly injured in that. Nothing serious I was not shot."

Jenn, "Thank God for that."

Me, "No kidding!" I replied.

I explained the whole event up to my going to the ground and protecting myself. She was perplexed and relieved I think. When I look back at our conversation, it seems too real, still. I ate and went to bed while Jenn left for work.

*****

A few weeks had passed and my nightmares never left me. I thought that I was in the open, that I was shot, not those that were. I was still scared and I knew damn well I was going to have to deal with this soon. But, there were just so many things I needed to deal with, too. First on my priority level was to get my financial situation out and then shop. That is exactly what I did. You see, when I started, I banked everything I made, kinda a "rainy day fund". Well, I was not disappointed. I had made close
to $29,000.00 for the 22 months on the road and that included interest. I felt I did well by banking this money. Now, I had the funds to something such as attend college, or even open my own business.

You see, when you are a TGIRL, you are treated extra special while on the streets. I did make good and I felt special. Those memories and those nightmares continued for the remainder of the summer, and beyond. To this day, they still exist.

I decided that I was going to enroll in school if I could for the fall. This was going to be a new challenge and a new future for me. Was it? I had mentioned it to Jenn that night as to what my decision was and she readily agreed to help me. Was this going to be "exiting"? NOT! Going to school not in the least. You see, there was no way I could attend with what I learned on the streets. Street smarts were one thing, education in a confined space not so good. The decision was made and I would follow
through. I wanted a better life for myself, and was determined to go for it.

We started looking at schools at the end of July, and settled on two that were possible. Both were technical schools and had very good curriculums as well as standings within the community. With my educational background, I was not eligible to attend a four year college. We filled out the required forms and waited for the acceptance letters. One of them I was going to attend, which one was yet to be determined. The acceptance letter arrived while I was out shopping and Jenn intercepted it and told me about it when I arrived home. I was ready for a new chapter began.

****

After my drama with the shooting and those persistent nightmares. It was suggested by Jenn that I seek some help. I reluctantly declined as I was still upset over the whole incident. The nightmares continued well into the weeks leading up to the first day of school and long afterwards. I
went and saw a Psychologist who dealt with this type of ailment. Sheila called it Post Dramatic Stress.

I told her about my upbringing: The hell I had spent at home, the life I led on the streets, and my friendship with Jenn, who I thought of as a sister. She seemed impressed with my candor as well as my dress, even though it was still short skirts and tops, with heels.

You see, I never was able to beat wearing them. They were comfortable and I thought fashionable, even when it was -40 and too cold to wear them. I guess you get used to them after awhile. Besides, I loved showing off my long legs, my body looked good. I was proud of it. After many visits to Sheila and we sorted out several issues. I was also diagnosed with being a transsexual.

That was a term I never knew about. That was an issue I was very unaware of being. I considered myself a female. Some thought I was a freak, some thought I was normal, some thought I was
pretty, I know what my clients thought of me and that was the "third gender" and they got the best of both worlds.

I loved myself for the first time. I guess being pushed into a situation as I was, it would make anyone grow up quick. I became an adult at 15, I learned street smarts, I knew the strength I gained by being there. I also never forgot the pain and the abuse. I guess that was what drove me.

Yes, there was a tragedy. Yes, there was a loss. Yes, there was hope, yes, there was no spirit. I guess you could say all these things compiled to make things worse for me. There was a glimmer of a future for me. As eventful as my life was and seems it is all true. It is a testament to I guess to the strength that was endured during my first 18 years of my life. Mine was a spirit that was lost. Will it be found?

The summer started off quietly for me. I was no longer walking the streets, turning tricks. Believe me this way of life is far different from that on the streets. Here, I was safe from the dangers that are inherent in that life.

I knew what needed to be done for any possibility of a future. Future, my definition was at that time unknown and unobtainable. I now realize years later. It was very much obtainable. It took me unlearning many of my lessons that I learned, growing up to accept that reality.

My reunion with Jenn was pleasant and at the same time strained. You see, she never pressed me nor questioned me on my motives for leaving. She accepted the fact that I needed to learn as best I could. She quietly observed my every action. I personally was emotionally and physically drained. My journey was done, or at least part of it was. Where do I go from here? [What did I want to do? Did I want to walk these streets? Did I want to attend college?]

That question I asked myself a few weeks after I stepped off the bus. Personally, I had a few options opened to me. One; continue my road of self destruction. Two; try and make a life for myself. Three; go to school. Each of these options possessed a number of additional questions and no answers. I decided to break my silence to Jenn one night after she came home from work.

Me: "Jenn, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place as to where I want to take my future, my existence. I need your advice."

Jenn: "Well, what do you want to do? And how do you see yourself now?"

Me: "I am not really sure, I could continue at present, or maybe attempt something new."

Jenn: "What is the definition of new for you? Do you want to go to school? Look for work? You cannot work in the short skirts that like
you wear. If you want, I can help you. But, from what I know, it will be hard for you."

Me: "I know, I have no idea, no training, I have street smarts, life in general I have to relearn. I am an Adult."

At 17, I was more mature than most adults were and definitely more adept at life and it's many struggles. I grew up when I left at 15. Yet, I never fully recovered from that when I returned, after the mess I encountered out west, and who could blame me? All that I know is that I was lost, I felt hopeless. HELL, I was HOPELESS. I felt ashamed of what I had done. I learned years later that abuse begets even more abuse. I only wish that I knew then, what I know now, almost 30 years after the fact. I guess it is true what they say, hindsight is 20/20.

****

Days passed, nights endured. Most were sleepless. The nightmare of that brutal attack west haunted my nightmares and my thoughts. It was later told to me I had PTSD. Wow, way too much information to digest and attempt to understand. What I wanted was an end to my nightmare, NOT a diagnosis. The difference was I was the one being shot at close range, execution style. I would always wake up in a sweat, or crying or both.

I think I must have scared the hell out of Jenn at times with my nightmares. I am not sure, but I think that I woke her up with my screaming, yet she never complained. She always looked frightened when she saw me the mornings after my nightmares. Could my nightmares have triggered a nightmare for her?

Jenn never said anything directly to me. After all, there was nothing to be said. Yet, I knew that I needed assistance from someone, but I had no clue that I needed to talk to. And the nightmares haunt me, still. My only hope is that one day I shall be with my Friend and Savior, Jesus Christ.

****

Nearly 2 months after arriving, I began to see some light for me. I went to get a doctor and had a complete physical. I was disease free. Whew! THAT was a relief. I was elated. For all of my time as a prostitute, I at least would not suffer from some infection from my sex with men. I even found that my anus was healing up from being penetrated so often. There were times that I had to sit on the toilet and let my clients ejaculate dribble from my butt, then wipe and wear a pad or tampon to soak up any residue.

I picked up the local newspaper and started browsing. I had no relevant experience to work a so called normal job. Then I saw an advert for open house at the local high schools. YES! I would go back to school! I would get my diploma. I went and called the number to the one school closest to where Jenn and I lived. I received more information and the times to pop by and look and talk with the teacher representatives for the local school division and the principal. Did I see a small glimmer, yes I did. I saw a glimmer of hope, hope for a better tomorrow for me.

Later that evening, I asked Jenn if she would be able to accompany me to this high school on the given date which was August 12th at 7:P.M. She readily agreed to split shifts with someone at her work.

I thanked her with a kiss and hug. She blushed, and smiled at me. Here was a woman who had taken in a broken down, worthless vagabond, and with simple tender, loving care had let me change from the monster that I was into this new being, a being full of HOPE!

As the following weeks progressed I needed to obtain new clothes, so off to the shops to select clothes. Well, trust me when I say I had no idea what runners or sneakers were. I was ignorant to that fact. High school culture was going to be very different for me, to say the least. I chose a few new pairs of jeans and tops and decided to pass on the sneakers/runners. I was so used to heels. To be honest it would take many years for me to get accustomed
to sneakers/runners.

The night of the open house I dressed down from my regular skirts and tank tops and somewhat heavy make up. I placed my hair in a tight braid. My hair was down to my rear end at that time. My nails were immaculate as was my makeup. We only had 5 blocks to walk to the school. We decided to walk it since it was a night out.

When I first laid my eyes on this building, to me, it was huge and the butterflies were tying knots in my stomach. The School was built in the early 20th century and had been upgraded to a modern style. The total number of students taught was close to 600. I was so nervous and it showed. I was not used to such large crowds, and still not comfortable with crowds, today.

Upon entering this school, the first thing that I noticed was the: ornate chandeliers, lighting, the paintings, the columns of granite and marble. I was impressed. This school looked like a mansion, not a place of learning.

There were arrows directing us to this massive hall with seats. (To a country girl, like me, everything was huge). Anyhow, there was a dais on the stage where all the important people sat and would eventually speak. I will not bore you with all the proceedings. I will say this, though. I was enthusiastic at this new revelation.

Here I was, a freshman in high school, ready for new challenges. I had grown up on the streets, and learned how to survive. I now had an inner strength that I didn't have, before. Before, I was a weak, pathetic kid, good for nothing more than getting raped and abused. Now, thanks to my life on the road, and Jenn's Loving acceptance, I was ready to take on new challenges.

Come to think about it, maybe I did have a future, and maybe hope, too. Time would definitely tell over the next 4 years. Now, while it was true that I only had a grade eight education when I left home, I was smarter than I actually thought that I was. My former time in school seemed to be a lifetime ago, and I suppose that it was.

There were tables set up in the gym for class registration, am I ever glad that Jenn went with me. OH my, what a list of classes to sign up for. There were: Math's', Sciences, History, and Gym of course, Home Ec., Computers, Shop (Woodworking, Automotive, and Electronics etc). I talked to several teachers that night. And I signed up for grade nine courses. They included Math, Trigonometry, Biology, Physics, Chemistry and History.

Oh boy was I ever in trouble here. Whew! I thought I was going to die after that class list was given to me. Right now, as I look back on things, I can laugh at myself as I went about getting my classes sorted. I thought that I was in charge, when in reality, the teachers were. They could choose whether or not to accept me in their class, or if I was worth teaching.

Before I attended classes, I needed to take a bunch of aptitude tests to determine where my learning strengths and weaknesses were going to sit. Well, a week later, I crammed into a small classroom and took the required tests. I found out later I was smarter than I thought. I was in some way I was relieved, and in another, anxious. Could I really do the work? Only time would tell.

There was hope, some but then again, maybe not so much of a future. You see, I had to survive this. I had these recurring thoughts that this was a very bad choice for me. Could I be having intuitive insight about myself? All that I know is that my thoughts drifted back to my life on the streets. I was not quite so confident that I would survive this unknown environment.

I found new questions that arose for me. Would I be OK in this situation? Could I make friends? How difficult would this be for me? I knew the answers to all these years later on, of course. I did manage to survive, make friends, and yes I did find it extremely challenging and difficult. I took this adventure as a new stage in my life with vigor but maybe not the enthusiasm that I should have had or being as happy as I wanted to be.

But still, I did take it with the preferential grain of salt. School started for me 1 week before Labor Day here in Canada , the first Monday in September. That first week would prove to be very, very interesting and challenging to say the least. You see, I was so lost and confused, that I needed a road map to get to all my classes and especially a classroom that would be my "homeroom". It was very different, far different from K till 8 in the rural setting that I had grown up in. I guess my new adventure would begin, soon enough. Who knew how it would turn out for me? I certainly did not have the slightest clue. Oh well.

I am sure that everyone must remember their own high school days, especially the first one. As for me, I know I will and let me tell you, it was a nice one. There I was, a survivor of the streets, now going back to school. My time as a prostitute had changed me from a weak willed wanna be girl into a strong, assertive, young woman. But, even though I was stronger, I still needed the unconditional love and support of Jenn. Without her, I would never have made it.

Although I had so many emotions running through my head, fear, being one of them. I also had a lot of anxiety and stress upon which I was not expecting to deal with. You see, I had only an eighth grade education, and I was fifteen years old. I had grown up on the streets as a trannie prostitute. I was used to walking the streets of the concrete jungle, wearing sexy clothes to entice my clients into buying my services.

Unfortunately, much what I learned on the streets could not help me, here. I was street wise, yet book poor. The knowledge that I had couldn't be put into a lesson format. No, you had to actually LIVE the lessons that the streets taught. But I could take the strength that I gained on the streets and use it to learn, THAT I could, and would do.

*****

For me, this was like nothing that I had even anticipated, let alone predicted how my first day would be, let alone how my first week would turn out. Yes, I made many goofs then, as I said something that was not expected. I find it very amusing now as I look back at that all important week and the days that followed. At the time, I was so embarrassed that I wanted to die. But, at least they thought that I was a girl, not a boy. The only way that they would know is if I took gym and had to wear a gym outfit.

Let me begin by saying that the weeks leading up to that week were interesting, Jenn and I spoke often as well as going shopping for notebooks, pens, etc. I was like a kid in a candy store, ready to devour everything in sight, and suffer a tummy ache. Well I also have to say that clothes were the top of the list. You see, we were all given dress code guidelines at this public high school. Well, I was the unsure one as to what would be proper and what was not, I bought mini skirts and tank tops as well as heels.

Being brought up on the street were heels and boots were standard, there was no chance I knew what sneakers were let alone anything else they had on that silly list, and I still have that list, too. I kept it to remind me of the big difference between the streets and high school. The code stated, jeans or skirts, tops with adequate sleeves, sneakers or appropriate footwear, minimal makeup for girls, hair adequately styled etc. In my mind it was a pathetic
attempt to make us conform to standards. Well, as for me, I grew up street wise, so conforming was not on the priority list of topics.

*****

The Monday prior to the Labor Day weekend proved to be interesting. I had the usual orientation and meet and greet etc. I was assigned my locker and given my combination. I wore a very tight skirt which was about 3 inches below my private area. I wore modest makeup and hair was in a long braid. I can tell you I garnered a lot of looks, some sneers and a lot of comments. You can guess what the comments were, as they pertained to what I was, not what I am trying to be, now, a high school student.

I met the principal that morning of orientation, his name was Mr. Badham. He was a very tall and handsome man, well over 6 feet 4, solid build, short graying black hair and blue eyes. He was hot. My English and home room teacher, Mr. Heinrichs was short of a man, about 5 feet 7 and grey hair and brown eyes. I later found out he was one of the original teachers at the school when it opened in the late 1930's, he was old. My other teachers were introduced to me, as well, and were predominantly female except the previous men that I mentioned. THAT made me wonder why there were more lady teachers than thee were men. Were women smarter than men?

We were lead to gather and sign out of class texts and other general items and sign for our lockers and a agreements etc to the lockers etc as far as defacing them was concerned. That was an immediate suspension if we damaged or defaced the school property. I am pretty sure that you went through something very similar to what I did, but for me, this was an alien world. On the streets, I had seen gangs of boys and girls use spray paint to deface property, usually some apartment building, or warehouse. I never did as I was not there for that.

My home room was up on the second floor. My locker fortunately or unfortunately however one looks at it was 3 in from the home room door, yuck! I had not much choice as to seating as I found out, so I chose the middle seat front row. I was surrounded by the guys on my right and behind me the girls were on my left. I could tell this was going to be a very interesting and challenging first year, if I could complete it, that is. My main objective was to survive the first day then the week. OH JOY!

When my classes began, let me tell you what I wore, I had on a short grey mini and black cross top that showed my belly button and my hair was braided and light makeup. My heels were not modest either, 3 inch black spike heels. Basically, what I would have worn to turn tricks on the streets. I walked with authority into the school that morning. I laugh now and have some good type memories about that day when I strutted into the school. Even though I was a freshman, I was totally in charge of my situation.

I had a look of 'bitch', and 'you better not mess with me look'. I think all movement and noise ceased at 8:A.M. that morning when I opened the doors from the parking lot. All eyes shifted to me. I ignored everyone and headed up the stairs to my locker. What a trip! You see, I was so scared and nervous that my stomach was flipping about like a tidal wave. I know I never showed it on the outside, but inside, I was scared shitless.

My first class went well, and then it was home room, then English, so I never had to switch classes. I felt somewhat relieved at that. I doubt that I could have moved to another class without having an anxiety attack. You see, I was constantly getting ogled by the guys and they were not subtle looks either, they were full of lust. I had seen those looks for a long time working the streets, and never bothered me in the least. I thought it was flattering. I have to say I looked damn hot.

Yes, I was arrogant and self assured, but scared. This new environment presented a lot of dangers for me. I was constantly aware of being found out and beat up or worse. I was very much shy. I was constantly on guard while in school and to this day I still am to a greater extent. But there are a few friends that I would be able to relax around. Jenn was the first one, but I met others since then that even though we haven't met yet, I hope that we can be the friends that we are on line.

*****

I find it quite amusing that during the announcements, that during the following week there would be an event called "frosh week", and the crowning of the frosh king and queen. It was apart of Homecoming. Each grade would have their own king and queen, with the senior king and queen getting top billing. I already had the queen title sowed up and needed no crown to recognize myself such.

That was going to prove interesting. At the end of the week there was going to be a "freshy dance" and all grade nines had to attend, it was mandatory. I thought, "Yeah, right! Me go to a dance? I didn't know how to dance in the first place, let alone figure out that the girls had to ask the guys to it. Hm mm, kinda idiotic if you ask me.' I laughed about it when I finished my day. I saw on TV a movie about a place called Dogpatch. It was a small, community in the woods, somewhere in the U.S.A. In this community, they have an annual celebration called Sadie Hawkins Day, where the girls chase down a boy to marry him. I wonder if this school got the idea from that movie.

I had so much homework that first day that I am so glad that I was able to stay with Jenn. You see, it was only a short 15 minute walk from our place to school. Heck, it would take as long or longer to drive when you add together the time it takes to find a parking space, and park. That was why I usually walked to school. I did not know how to drive,
yet, and Jenn had already graduated.

The rest of the week went pretty much like the first day; I dressed in short skirts and tops and heels or boots. As for hose, I wore hose every day. I liked the way that the hose made my legs looked, and I was use to them from my time on the streets. On the Friday during home room I was passed a note by Mr. Heinrichs to see the principal.

I thought 'OH great, what now'.

So I went. This nifty distraction would take me away from English, anyway, and I knew that I was ahead after the first week. I was given my reading assignment for the semester. It was "Hamlet", a so called classic, whose standards is this classic. To me, it was like reading an alien language wit the difference in the language between now and then.

Upon entering the office I was told to take a seat and the principal would be with me shortly. I just sighed and sat on an old bench. I was called in to Mr. Badham's office and told to take a seat. He looked very stern and authoritarian. In my mind he still looked hot. Come on girls we all had crushes on teachers and principals. Anyhow, he paused before he spoke. And there is that song about Mrs. Robinson who fell for a boy, so to me, it was OK to lust for a teacher like him.

Mr. B: "Hmm, you are in violation of the dress code here, young lady!"

Me: "I am wearing that which is comfortable to me."

Mr.B: "It clearly states jeans and or skirts below the knees, as well as sneakers." he was looking directly at my legs while he stated this.

Me: "Well, I am abiding to the rules and I do not own a pair of sneakers, I never have owned a pair in my life and I would not begin to know how they would feel."

I uncrossed my long legs and just smiled. I knew I was flirting, did I care, no way. I so wanted him then and there that I had momentarily forgotten that I was a trannie.

Mr.B: "Tell me about your life, please."

Me: "I was a prostitute, turning tricks until a shooting scared me enough to want to go back to school. I am lucky that Jenn took me in after my parents threw me out. Now, I am attending school instead of continuing my lifestyle."

I can tell you this he was shocked and dismayed at my bluntness. He had never heard a story like mine, before. He had never thought about a teen girl doing what I had done. I guess that unless you are on the streets as I was, you don't know about the facts of life on the streets.

After about 90 minutes, he dismissed me with the requisition that I purchase sneakers and wear jeans as it was going to get colder out. I raised my brow at that and snickered. Cold? Whatever! I mean, you get used to the weather in short skirts and tops and light jackets in -40 weather and colder with the wind chill. If anyone has experienced a Canadian winter you know what I am talking about. But maybe it is as cold down in the States, I don't know, and I doubt that I will ever find out.

Well, anyway, he gave me a hall pass so I would not be marked late for my next class. I strutted into that class and took my seat, and all eyes were on me when I entered.

I thought 'I still have control of boys who want to be with me. Wanting to BE like me? Not likely!' silently laughing inside at this generalization. The day went much slower than I wanted it too. I sat at lunch against the old trees and read and caught up on homework. Everyone was either curious about me or just avoided me like I was a disease or something because I kept getting stared at, or raped by a set of eyes. I was so glad when I walked home that day.

*****

My dismay came the following week, Tuesday after classes. I should mention that I did tone my dress a bit. I wore skin tight jeans and tank tops with a jean jacket over my top. My navel still showed, though I never did wear sneakers, sheesh! No, I always wore heels to show off my legs very nicely and of course my hose, underneath. I found that the feel of hose under my jeans was very nice.

I was placing my texts in the locker and grabbing others to take home with me, when this guy Vaughn approached my locker and said "Hi".

I returned the sentiment, "Hi."

It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was going to ask me. I played the game.

Vaughn: "My friends were wondering if you would like to attend a party after the dance this weekend," He had a cocky attitude when he asked maybe nervous as well.

Me: "No, I do not think so, as I have plans anyway. Besides, I will be leaving about 1 hour into the dance, so thank you for asking," I had to be polite, it was a nice gesture.

Vaughn: "We would really appreciate it if you could party with us after the dance. We are going to the valley and the party is going to be good."

He was starting to annoy me a bit by this persistence.

Me: "I do not think so. The offer is nice, so thank you."

I know what they wanted and well it was not going to work, so I played my bitch card to the max. I went on to tell him, "Look Vaughn, I do not want to go and even if I did want to, you and your 'little' friends could not afford me! Oh yeah, and your dad's and grand dads, either, so the answer is still NO!"

The look on his face was priceless; he looked utterly shocked at my statement. I grabbed my books and locked my locker and started for the stair case. He looked so pathetic and still dumbfounded staring at me and dejected. I on the other hand smiled and left.

Needless to say, the following morning in home room was an interesting event. You could hear a pin drop. I knew exactly what they were talking about, they were taking about ME! GOD, I was getting the hang of this pathetic school yard immaturity. I, for one, was not
going to play their silly games. You see, I have been through way too much to play such juvenile games.

Firstly, I was way more mature than these kids, and secondly, I considered myself an adult. My life did not seem so lame now, and my confidence grew as did my self esteem. All through the next week up till the dance, every time I went by the guys, they would shut up. As for me, I just laughed, silently, because 'I' was in command.

The girls snickered and some approached me and let me know that it was good to put them in line. There were al sorts of rumors floating around about me: I was an either high class call girl, or a prostitute who had a big pimp to protect me were the two most popular. Oh, how dumb they were! Prostitute was correct, pimp not on their lives! I should correct myself here and say ex prostitute. I gave up that style after I saw and witnessed the horror earlier in those chapters. I just shook my head and smiled inwardly.

Do not get me wrong here. I was very much afraid and nervous. Sure, there were a few bouts of hilarity in that first week, but it never diminished the reality I was alone and felt in danger, especially if my secret got out. If it got out, I would be in trouble along with Jenn. I had all forged ID when I entered school, so that was also a huge risk I took. I was 19 when I got the illegal ID switched to a legal ID.

I did go to the dance, though, and did leave soon after to attend to my homework. I did it mainly because of Jenn. She told me about the fun that she had had at the dances when she went to high school, and thought that I would enjoy it, too. Truth to tell, I did.

I became a studious individual throughout my high school years. The rest of that first semester flew by and eventually the rumor mill ceased to exist around me, so I was ignored. Believe me when I say that I was ecstatic about that. I started to make some acquaintances and some would eventually be my friends at a later time in my life. Back then, I was still very guarded and very protective of my life and my choices. I was always haunted at night about my abuse at home and my time on the streets. I was damaged goods. My slate was written on and there was no way to erase it, no matter how hard I tried. I guess that it was the failures of the system to protect those that needed to be protected.

My marks were sufficient at quarter and at end of semester that I had no doubts that I was going to somehow make it. All my marks were high 80's and low 90's. Not too shabby for a street smart educated individual, even if I do say so, myself. You see, I was told that I was a failure and would not amount too much. I now can laugh at those dumb comments made by my "father." I had something to prove to myself, not to him. I think that at that time, I did prove myself right and chose the path that I needed to.

Jenn was a huge support to me (GOD BLESS HER). In my heart I knew I was not going to fail anymore and chose the path I needed to make it in this world.

*****

The nightmares continued and so did my sessions with my counselor. I enrolled with the abuse line in the city. I felt that it was needed at the request of my doctors. I was placed on a better equalization dose of estrogen and my hormones started to balance out considerably. I was extremely lucky. By my 'mother' giving me her pills, she had run a great risk that the pills could have wrecked my liver. They DID make me go through a female puberty, and shrink my testicles, and penis into nubs. That was why I could so easily wear panties and my mini skirts; I had no boy's bulge.

By the time HS, began I was a 34c and comfortable with those on my 5'11 frame. I was still 135 and rail thin, however, it suited me. I had a statuesque body that was lusted after by the boys, and their dads.

The experience that I gained on the streets was a hindrance as well as a benefit for me. I feel that I came along way, and still have a long road ahead of me. I owe a lot of credit to Jenn. She stuck with me and really never gave up, she genuinely loved and cared for me. I certainly did and we became sisters.

I grew a lot and wished I had a childhood to enjoy the things children enjoyed while growing up. I wish I could turn the clock back. But, as I look back now, I would not change a thing, except maybe one. I was given to a family that genuinely cared for me and was willing to protect me and love me unconditionally. I guess that there is a life lesson here, and one to cherish, not pleasant to say the least, but one that will be a lesson. A life was not wasted, but nurtured by myself and grew to be appreciated. I will say this over and over again to those who I have met and have known. I will value my street smarts education over any book smart
education I had, 100 fold, no argument, enough said.

*** DEDICATED TO JENN S (APRIL 11TH 1961 TO FEBRUARY 23RD 2000) GOD BLESS YOU JENN, LOVE YOU SISTER OF MINE.===

I met Jenn in the fall of 1970. I had just turned 6 then at was at a 4H informational session with my "mother". (Yes, I was still living on that farm, at the time.) I had begged her to take me as it was something that I knew I was interested in. You see, being raised on the farm, horses were a huge part life on the farm. I was lucky, she took me and I did not have to suffer a rape, or beating for it.

Jenn was nice. She is three years older than me. When she introduced herself to me and my "mother" I knew then that I could trust her. She just had that sense of trustworthiness about her. Jenn was 4'11 then and very lithe, she had long dark brown hair. Her appearance was beautiful. I enrolled in the program that was offered. The first meeting was the following Wednesday at 7 in the town hall.

There were 10 students, and I knew all of them. It was a relief, which meant that I wouldn't have to worry about being around strangers. Even then, I was skittish around strangers. They went to the same country school, some were in my classes. Jenn took me under her wing; Even then, she seemed to befriend me. There were five instructors, which
meant two students per instructor. I thought very cool. I was very shy and it showed in my demeanor.

I was also a studious individual that was eager to learn and Jenn was that eager to teach us. As for me, I had always fancied horses. They are graceful and very peaceful animals. They seem to know the person with how that person interacts with them. This became my strongest trait with working with horses. I did not know it at the time, but my friendship with Jenn and love for horses would help me to escape from my hellhole of a life.

We were taught all sorts of trades and encompassing each of those in our lives. It was weird for me, though. I was raped and beaten in the barn, yet here I was, willing to be in a barn. The training for specific traits began in an indoor arena three weeks later. We were all given horses to work with. We had to know them and let them know us. I was very gentle, and I believe that Jenn knew that I had a special gift working with them.

She saw my tender Heart reach out to this gentle giant and speak to it in its own language. I could tell when they had been hurt by a rider, or stable hand and the horses drank in my empathy as I did what I could to help them. Most of the time, it was my empathic contact that seemed to do the most good. Jenn, taught me all about barrel racing, the techniques the skill and strategy. I excelled at that over the course of the years with my involvement with 4H.

Jenn lived about 4 miles from where I lived. I eventually confided in her of the goings on in my household. She was shocked and dismayed at the level of abuse that I told her I suffered. She assured me that I could talk to her when ever I needed too. Believe me I did call upon her for comforting. I was just finishing up my grade 7 year when I was told that Jenn was moving into the city.

Needless to say, I was sad. I was also glad that she was going to go to the city, be somebody there and get away from the country lifestyle. I had maintained a letter correspondence with her while she was in the city and attending school. We grew close like sisters. She knew of my issues with my parents and my forced situation with crossdressing and sexual intercourse with my "father" and eventuality with my "brother".

She was sickened. When I left home that early morning in May, she was also the first to come to my aid and care. I would have wished that I could have gone with her when she did. Just as she wished that I could move.

I kept in contact with her, and we had many a many conversations. Those conversations, like Jenn, were a blessing that I miss to this day. She will forever be my Best Friend and Sister in my Heart. There are two others that over time became close to me, Melanie Dixon, and a man, no, a GENTLEMAN, Stanman63. I hope that one day, that we can meet. Most men I am afraid of, not him.

I can only describe Jenn in a few ways: Kind, considerate, my sister, my friend, and my source for some strength. Her spirit was and still exists today in me. Her support and love guided me to where I sit today with myself. I believe that God sent her my way as His special Angel, to minister to me. Spiritually, I grew in knowing this kind and gentle soul. Her ability to let me find myself was a great help to me. It allowed me to grow, and mature.

Sure, you can say that I was not mature in the broadest sense. However, in other ways I was more mature than most kids my age and even some adults. At times, I wondered if I was more mature than Jenn was when I came back into her life after my experience with seeing death. She never said it though, I just wonder if she thought it. I never asked her nor prodded her to tell me what she thought of me. She gave me respect, and a love that only sisters can show sisters.

I stayed in contact with her long after I graduated from high school. She had moved east to attend a prestigious college and began her career of teaching there. It was the saddest news any one could ever hear when I was informed of her death. I was shocked to the core. Here my best friend, sister, confidant, my strength for going on had passed away. Now, I was alone in the world.

I never knew that she had some severe health concerns after she had moved east. She developed breast cancer that took her, slowly. I found out when I contacted her mom long after the funeral that I attended. Believe me, I cried all through it. Today, when I travel to the place where she is laid to rest I lay roses at her stone, and I would pray that she would come back to me.

I know she cannot physically. However, her spirit lives in me with everything I do now, and will continue to do. Her gentle soul, her spirit, her life, her friendship, her companionship, her love, her protection when I need it most, she was there. She was more like my mother and I respected her and loved it. She was more my parent than my actual "parents" were. Jenn gave me so much and I in turn now can give back.

I love you Jenn, God Bless you, my spirit carries on through your gift.

Note:
This is a poem that I wrote about my friendship with Jenn. She was the first one to befriend me, and through her, I came to know God. Without her, and her guidance, I would not be here to post this.
________________________________________

I look upon friendship as a challenge and a blessing.
I look upon friendship as a curse.
I look upon friendship as a hurtful place.
I look upon friendship as a trust.
I look upon friendship as earned.
I look upon friendship as a two way street.
I look upon friendship as cautious.
I look upon friendship as a special.
I look upon friendship as respected.
I look upon friendship as beneficial.
I am blessed to have all this and more with those I have made friends with.
I am blessed and cursed due to my lack of trust. That is
reality.
I am blessed that I have made my friend with God.
I am so honored to have made friends with those while I was street savvy.
I am blessed to have made friends with Jenn, I am also blessed with those friendships I have made over the years in my advocacy.
I am also blessed with those friends I made on Big Closet. I also have friends within my church I now attend. I am blessed and honored to be able to have friends. I am blessed to have friends whom I now trust. I am hopeful that those I have as friends will remain as friends. The inspiration and strength that each possess assists me in my life, I can only hope it is returned.
I guess friend can be defined as follows:
F abulous
R eliable
I nspirational
E verywhere
N oted
D edication
I hope that we all can be friends and continue to make those friendships that we all need to survive. Those are the ones that remain everlasting. God Bless.

=========

Dedicated to: Christine01, Stanman, John, Erin, Sephrena, Jengirl, Melanie, as well as those that I have spoken to with personal messaged. I also dedicate this to my one true friend and sister in the whole world, JENN God be with you my sister. I am coming home, one day very soon to have tea and a chat.

=====

For me, this was the most Blessed one to post for she dedicated it to me and others. I feel that she knew that her time was short and wrote this for us.
Stanman63

Jason and I spent a considerable amount of time talking and I did give him the background on my beginnings and my journey. He listened to my story, and tried to comfort me as best that he could. He hated it that I couldn't relax around him as I did Jenn. When he found out why, he wanted to hurt my 'family' as they had hurt me.

Our weekends were spent mostly on the phone with several dates as he placed it and we did get close. I did, however, feel out of touch and out of place and I truly believe that he knew what I was feeling and tried in so many ways to understand.

One conversation we had was very intense. We went to a restaurant called SMITTY'S. This restaurant was very nice and we occupied a quiet booth near the back. He ordered coffee and I ordered tea. I guess I grew accustomed to tea after growing up on the farm and never really acquired the taste for the black brew.

Jason: "I need to know where you and I stand on several issues here Melissa. I feel a strong admiration for you. And yet I feel I cannot get any closer to you as you have this wall about you. It's like you are always on guard. And I am not really sure why?"

Me: "I really don't understand, myself, Jason, I have tried my very best to be more myself when we are out, and I am open to what you have to say to me. I do try my very best to communicate with you, Jason. And, to tell the truth, I suppose that I knew that trying to date out side of the "realm" of street life was going to create a lot of problems for me, no, for us. I know that I have a wall up. I just don't know how I can be anymore open without that wall. I do understand what you are saying, I think. I wish I knew why and what I am trying to protect myself from."

Jason: " I know exactly what is happening, for and too me here, Melissa. It is as if I am starting to get feelings for you and I am not really sure where or what your thoughts and feelings are towards me. I know you have a lot to try and deal with your transition, your running and you're trying to protect yourself. I WANT to KNOW where I fit in and how I can assist if any to make this easier."

I was shocked at his words and his general stance on this.

Me: "Jason, I have so much to protect myself from that I know. And when I was on my own and living the street life, MY priority was MYSELF. I had no one. I could not rely on anyone. I had to rely on only one person here and that was ME. I am SO trying to be the person that you want in your life. And just maybe it is what I want as well. However, I know that I need to get right. I am not sure how I can do that without hurting people like Jenn, you and the acquaintances I have made. I want to keep my guard and my wall up. Otherwise, I am not sure how I can deal with this."

Jason: "I know that I am asking a huge lot of you here, Melissa. I just feel that if it is not correctable, then maybe we should part and see where it goes. But, Melissa, I am not sure anymore about what you want. What you feel you would like in your life. It is almost like I am dealing with a parent here."

I was again stunned.

Me: "I know that maybe so, but you have to understand that my life was not easy, nor will that life be easy for me in the future. I can't be sure what I need here. It could very well be that I am trying to maybe to do way too much. I wish the hell that I knew. My life was and looks like it is still fucked up way far beyond what is normal for a human to be able to deal with. You know, Jason, yes, I have grown up. I was placed in an extremely difficult situation, and I made do with what I had to deal with on a daily basis. I have told you before that my life was not easy. I get the fact that you are trying to deal with my insecurities, and my failures, as you may see it as. Yes, I know that I have failed. And in some ways, I have succeeded. Yet, in others I have not met the expectations as to what you wish for a girlfriend. I guess that in essence, I have failed there as well. I am not going to hold you to me, if you want to, you can walk away. However,
I do care and wish to try and make it work. If you want to, you can leave. But, I am hopeful that we can remain friends if that happens. If not then I will move forward as best I can. I know you are off to university soon. I get it, I also get that you think that I am way to "wise" for you with my street smarts survival and strength. I also get that fact that you could have any girl you want and desire. I have been rejected enough already."

Jason: "I know all that Melissa, I just want to try and be with you, and I cannot though. It feels like you are withholding and keeping a safe distance."

Me: "Do you wanna know why I keep a distance? Do you already know?"

Jason: "I know why, I guess. I also guess that your protection from abuse and being hurt prevents you from getting close."

I smiled and nodded at that comment. "I also fear though, Jason. You are a bit bigger than me and well it kinda reminds me of my 'father'. Yes, I am afraid of you. Yes, I have to protect myself from the world. I know I have to change it, but I am not sure how and when I can do that. It is not like I can turn a switch and just say that it is going to be 'OK', and that everything that went on with me will be erased. I cannot, and will not do that Jason. Not for you or anyone. I can't afford it for myself right now. I have paid too much already for fuck sake."

Jason had a lot of confidence in himself, his intellect was amazing and that was what attracted me to him. I feel he was also attracted to me in the same fashion. I believe that I shocked him there with that as his eyes grew wide and saw a flicker of angst there. We ended our night and he took me back home and I briefly explained the night to Jenn. She nodded her head and went to bed. I relaxed in my room and shed some tears.

My relationship with Jason lasted 5 months and 4 days and we had many long continuous chats like the one that night. I guess he never was able to come to terms with my past. I on the other hand tried my level best to slowly drop the wall around me. I was not successful, though. I guess that in looking back at this whole Jason experience, it gave me an opportunity to try dating outside of what I was so used too.

I was use to a quick wham bam night over and over. Yes, Jason and I had some sex however like all the nights and tricks on the streets he used protection. I was not going to end up getting a STD. I had vowed to stay STD free and it has worked for me. Jason and I would not remain friends, he eventually moved off to the coast and I lost contact with him till 1992, then my world changed again.

Note: There is a scene in here which is an attempted rape and some violence towards me during a moment at the end of school. Please do not read if this will disturb you. Thanks.

***************

School continued past freshy week as the students dubbed the occasion and luckily for me, I never was tagged. The dance went on without a hitch. A sore spot for me was during the following week. That week was particularly dull and boring for me as I spent my previous weekend studying and keeping ahead in all my classes. I was determined to keep my grades up, for me. I still had to prove at least to myself that I was NOT a prostitute.

On the Thursday after classes, unfortunately, my world changed yet again. I was walking home, when I was slammed to the ground by Mitch, he was on the basketball and football teams. You see, he was constantly was giving me the eye. I thought to myself, that, 'While he was doing this, it was simply harmless flirting.' Well, unfortunately, I was proven oh so wrong.

At the time, I was wearing a very nice jean mini with flowers embroidered on the sides and back pockets as well as a nice soft white short sleeve blouse with ruffles about the collar. I looked spectacular, even if I do say so myself. Anyhow, Mitch slammed me to the ground and tore off my top leaving my exposed bra and chest open for all those to see and then, he had to cover my mouth to keep me from screaming. It was during this time that I realized that he was not just flirting with me, he was lusting for me.

He began to hit me with his free hand and rip my skirt off. He weighed 200 pounds easy and I was 135 if that. He was the typical jock, short cropped hairstyle, dumb as a box of hammers. Now, that was an insult to the hammers, mind you. Hammers are smarter by far. He kept his full weight on me and continued to pound on my ribs and face. He was swearing at me and calling me a slut and a whore.

I knew that all I could hope for was that he would end this, quick. I do not know much after that, I guess I passed out or something because I was awakened in the ER at the hospital, covered with a blanket, and I knew I was beaten and bruised. I started crying. Why did he have to attack me? Did he not think about being caught? Did he treat others like this?

The doctors wanted to know who to call. They were surprised when I did not give them Jenn's number, nor that of the farm where I grew up. I was left in the ER for what seemed like hours before someone came to look at my injuries. I resorted to being quiet and got all tired out as I cried over what had happened. I had told him that nobody here could afford me, but they could take it from me.

After I spent the night in The ER, I went home. They had to find me clothes to wear as I was in no shape to wear the clothes I had on the day before, and the clothes were torn up, now, anyway. When I saw the damage, I knew that I could never wear them, again. Not with the rips, and stains on them.

I later found out that some senior citizen named Gary was turning the corner, and when he saw what was going on, he shooed the idiot Mitch away and brought me to the ER. Gary was in his late 70's, and a widower who kept to himself. He later explained to me, Melissa, I don't really appreciate the clothes that you wear but I do kinda understand the circumstances, even if I don't approve of you being a prostitute."

"Gary , I am not a street person, nor a prostitute. This was how I choose to dress, it was comfortable for me."

He agreed with a nod of his head. I had all the information from the admitting desk as to who had brought me in. I wrote Gary a long letter and thanked him.

-------------

Back at school the following Monday, the rumors were floating about that I had left school to be an exotic dancer and that what happened to me was a figment. Yeah right, a bruised face and arms and I could hardly see out of my one eye! Some figment.

////////////

Christmas approached and mid semester exams were finally over. All of which I passed with ease, there were no weekend party's for me, just study sessions and homework. Oh, I did want to party, but I wanted to study all the more. I was finding being a student to fill a void in me that I did not know that I had at the time. But I did have SOME fun, just not those parties.

Jenn and I spent some time socializing. She ended up getting more shifts and eventually was working over time, some 50 hours per week. She would have a few days off, we would talk and shop. We would go out strolling in the local malls and shopping centers, window shopping and finding the things that we just had to have. I am pretty sure that you readers have seen something that you had to have, for me, the fun was in the fact that I could probably afford it.

It was on one of those social outings of "shop till you drop" that I met Jason. He was the same height as I was, 5'11". He had a stocky build and very nice brown eyes. His hair was short and well styled with a part on the right side. He was good looking to say the least...WOW. Even Jenn by this time was ogling at him. He spent a majority of his time with us, that day. At the end of the day, he asked, "Melissa, may I have your number?"

"Jason, I am living with Jenn, but I can give you her's. "

"Cool!"

"If you give me yours I will call you."

Well, he accepted that and gave me his number. I called him two nights later, and asked him if we could go out for tea, which he readily accepted. We made plans for the K Family restaurant. That restaurant is 9 blocks away from where Jenn and I resided. The date was for 7p.m..

I asked Jenn, will you come along and sit away from us, to keep an eye out for anything."

"Why, Melissa?"

"I guess I am still paranoid of more abuse and even an attack. I need some added security."

Jenn said, "Sure, not a problem."

*********

THE DATE:

I arrived 30 minutes early. I spotted Jason quickly and waved him over. The window booth was the easiest. You see, it was close to the entrance if I needed to leave quickly enough if my instincts kicked in, or I was being threatened. We greeted each other.

"Hi, Melissa."

"Hello, Jason."

"How old are you?"

"I am fifteen, why?" PROBLEM HERE... LOOK BACK AND FIND HER AGE AT THIS POINT

"I am eighteen. I just graduated this past June and looking forward to the University."

"That's nice; I'm heading onto college, too."

"Please tell me about yourself Melissa."

I decided on complete honesty here and disclosure, "Jason, I was a abused child from a loveless family, they abused me and when it got too much I left at 15 and I have had to survive on the streets until I saw four of my 'coworkers" shot and killed. I came back here to decide what I wanted to do and I decided to go to school and change my life to the better."

"Wow! I'd never have guessed."

"Jason, I was a prostitute and I needed to protect myself from further abuse from my parents. That is why I ran away. Please listen and I will explain further if you are willing to listen."

He had a shocked look and very wide eyed look, "Melissa, what ever you tell me, I will listen, I do not nor will I interrupt you till you have explained what you need too."

"Thank you".

I went on to explain to him the conditions I lived in while on the streets, the abuse I saw and endured. The strength I somehow gained from all that abuse. He only nodded. I continued to explain to him my relationship with Jenn and how she became my supporter and my SISTER. I glanced over and saw Jenn walk in with 5 girls and winked at me. Jason never looked nor saw them arrive.

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

"I plan on a quiet holiday, I am going to study."

He had a quizzical look on his face, "Oh," he sighed.

"Jason, there is a reason why I need to study."

"OK, but no parties, you know what they say about all work and no play."

"You see, I made a promise that I would finish school and see where I want to go from there."

"I hear you, but still, it's a shame that you don't want to party, any."

"I would if I could, Jason. But I need to complete this as quickly as I can. If I don't, I will continue to feel like a failure."

"Why would you feel that?"

"I would, because it was beaten into me that I would not amount to anything, that I was useless, no good, a complete failure as a SON."

"A SON, YOU CANNOT BE A BOY!" He had raised his voice at that comment.

"Trust me, Jason. Under my jeans and tank top and jean jacket, I am a boy, I may not look like one with what I am wearing, but I am, under it all."

"How? Why? Is that even possible?"

"Yes, Jason. It is possible, hormones, and a lot of work, hardly eating and kept in shape with walking the streets for 18 hours or more a day."

"I can bet, but you look so normal."

Laughingly I said, "NORMAL? Yeah, right! Your definition of that would be what? Growing up with the perfect family, loving mom and dad, sister or brother perhaps? Getting a good education versus being beaten up every day and raped every night. I call what you had NORMAL compared to me life."

"I just do not get it, I don't understand, I guess you had to do what you needed to do."

"YUP! It was either run or stay and die, and if I stayed I knew it would not be too much longer before either my "FATHER" OR "BROTHER" WOULD Kill ME, or I would take my own life. And Jason, I came close on more than ONE occasion."

"SHIT!"

"I may not have had the ideal nor perfect life as you see it, however, I have street smarts and that will do me just fine. Now, I want to get some form of education because I do not want to have a 8th. Grade education and be a failure. I want to shove this so far up my parent's asses and those assholes that said I was fucking crazy, so yes JASON I WILL FINISH SCHOOL!"

"They were wrong about you."

"Jason, if you like what you see then fine, if you do not that is fine too, I accept that, I have always accepted the shitty things in life. However, if you want to be my friend, that is OK, as well, and I accept that. If not that is quite fine as well, because I have set myself up in a nice little routine, and well, I want to keep it that way."

He was stunned and stated, "Melissa, I would like to be your friend, however I am just not sure of your attitude."

I was so stunned and seething at this point. I was thinking 'SHIT! What a fucking prick!' "ATTITUDE, Fuck JASON! You have no idea what kinda of attitude I have yet, I am a nice person. Sure, I have faults! Sure, I have been on the other side of what is called "normal" as you so kindly placed it. That I have a lot of fucking regrets for what I did, I cannot take them away, nor will I. If you want to be my friend fine, if not that is fucking OK with me, as well. I will not change myself for you or anyone else for that fucking matter! What you see is what you fucking get! Handle it, if you want too."

Then I got up and left. I stormed out of the restaurant, thinking, 'Fuck, what an asshole, and I thought he was cute and nice enough to get to know. Oh well.' I walked home very quickly.

Several hours later, Jenn arrived home and was not amused with what went on at the restaurant, however she could understand it. She told me that she had talked to Jason after I stormed out and left him stunned and in shock.

"Melissa, you left in a hurry, I had to try and contain Jason to talk with him a bit."

"Yah! So he is a asshole, he couldn't accept what I told him, Jenn, You know I have to honest and upfront with people I meet, it's just too fucking bad that they have to hide their pompous attitudes and bullshit the way that they do, and not even try and understand."

"Still, you did not give him a chance."

"Jenn, you know me, you know the shit I went through, should I have to continue with this on an ongoing fucking basis, can I not be entitled to some friends and some support, some allies out side of you? Is that way too much to ask?"

"No, it is not too much to ask. What you have to try and understand that JASON WAS TRYING TOO UNDERSTAND AND LISTEN AND YOU LITERALLY FUCKING EXPLODED ON HIM, LIKE THE BITCH YOU ARE AND CAN BE IF THINGS DO NOT SEEM TO BE RIGHT!"

I was shocked and stunned here as my best friend in the whole world, the one I loved as a sister went off on me like a bomb. But hat she said, hit home.

"Sorry, Jenn. but I can't take this shit from assholes that pretend to not be real, and in my opinion and assumption he was not being real when we talked, nor when I was explaining my life as honestly as I needed to, full disclosure. You and I talked about that when I came off the streets. I know in my heart that I was right and I had every right to defend an assault of ignorance, which I felt he had towards me and my choice of lifestyle then and he probably holds it against me after our conversation tonight, RIGHT?"

"Not in the least, you little bitch, He was generally concerned for you and wanted to understand what you had to say and YOU never gave him the chance to get a word in edgewise! YOU dropped a lot on him and never gave him an opportunity to speak or respond! In fact, YOU bitched him out like he was your DAMNED "FATHER"! HE is not, he showed some concern after you left and truth be told, here MISSY, HE FUCKING DOES WANT to SEE YOU AGAIN AND TRY TO UNDERSTAND MORE!! YOU HAVE TO GET OVER YOURSELF AND YOUR ATTITUDE WHEN SOMEONE WANTS TO TRY AND BE YOUR FRIEND!!"

"How!?"

I broke down and cried at this point and I still remember the conversation that we had after that fist meeting with Jason. I was a bitch, maybe if that opportunity was to happen again and I was a bit less hostile, maybe things would have turned out a bit better from the date.

"All that I know that you can do is to see what happens and drop the attitude. You need to let him try and ask questions and you provide that understanding."

"I will try, Jenn." Oh, how I wanted to say Momma, but I couldn't. Not with what my 'mother' did to me.

"Melissa, you have been through hell and back, I have seen you change from the meek, abused, scared, frightened little girl that I met at first. Now, you are no longer like that. Now, you are stronger from your time on the streets."

"Thank you."

"Melissa, I accepted you as you were and as what I see now. I may not fully understand it all and probably never will, but, I will always be there for you. I can ask you to take it easy on him. It's your decision, not mine. I can only ask, because what you do is your doing and business. I would love to see you have something that would mean a lot more to you than just abuse. Something meaningful, to have someone give you a chance and let you break your attitude of being the bitch."

"I know, Jenn, but it's so hard NOT to hate men."

"FUCK Melissa, you cannot go on hating every male in the world for what your "FATHER" AND "BROTHER" did to you, it was their fault, not JASON'S, He never caused you that pain, THEY DID, NOT HIM. He wants to try and give you a chance at some happiness and you threw it in his face. If I was a guy I would walk away and never want to speak to you. I love you Mel, you are loving and kind and yet you are so hard edged and hate everything around you that you will not give anyone the chance to see the REAL YOU."

I was so shocked at this burst from Jenn that all I could do was nod and sputter out "Thank you, Jenn. I needed my ass kicked."

I went to bed and cried, I knew I needed to contemplate and to see what I had to change if any. Jenn was right about me. I was still damaged goods. But it was up to ME as to what I did with my life.

-----------------------

Several weeks had passed. In February, Jason called Jenn. She called me when the phone rang and she had answered it. I was very apprehensive about
talking to him. I picked up the receiver off the table and said, "Hello."

"Hey, can we maybe start over and go out to a coffee shop and talk?"

"Sure! When?"

"In an hour, I'll pick you up at Jenn's."

I swear the color drained from my face when he said that and Jenn spotted the color change immediately. All she did do was give me the thumbs up and whisper." Go on, it will be OK. You have to start trusting."

All the while I am thinking 'Yeah, right, when hell freezes over.'

I told him I would be ready, and I also told him that I was very nervous doing this. I never went out on a coffee date nor got into a vehicle with a guy unless it was my "tricks". This was totally new for me. I was like a babe in the woods, a babe in need of loving.

There was silence and a laugh, "I'll see you soon."

The line went dead. All I could think have was, 'What the fuck just happened, here and why was I doing this and I even accepted this ride and offer of coffee?'

I was certainly done fore at least in my mind. I noticed Jenn give a smile and said, "GO, it will not kill you."

I went and was nervous the whole time and was very much on edge. I will not bore you with all the details, I will say that we reached a kinda compromise, he would listen to me and what I had to say and I promised that I would not be such a bitch and explain things more clearly to him. This was what I most desperately needed, another friend who would accept me. What happened later on does not diminish the healing that happened, that night.

The end result was I eventually was able to open up a bit more and not blame him for what had happened to me in my past. I still tend to dwell on that, however, that is part of who I was at this point. My Psyche and my slate were severely scared and written on growing up where trust and honesty from a male was non existent. I saw them as a threat, not as friends. I saw them as a predator and I was the prey. I still hold a lot of animosity towards men; in time I might get it right where I do not blame them for my past but accept them as friends and not enemies. Life went on in high school with many more ups and downs........

I guess you can say that up till now, my life was pretty dull. I went to school, had a boyfriend and I had my limited social interaction. I only went out with either Jenn or Jason to a coffee shop, restaurant, movie, or some other social setting. I still could not trust Jason to go to his place. No, if we made love, it was in his car, or a motel room.

As the Christmas holidays passed and New Years came and went, I started to look forward to exams in late January. Yes, I know that you are probably wondering why I would be looking forward to them. I was NOT some super genius destined for some lucrative position, nor was I some computer nerd. Well, it is like this, I set myself a promise, goal. I wanted to accomplish for myself a set of priorities and standards to prove to myself that I was a success. I needed to pass all of the classes. I was in no means failing those courses that I was attending. I had a B average. Not bad for a girl off the farm and rightly so off the streets.

My days and weeks passed till the exam dates. And, well, just for the record here, I passed all my exams with high 80's and two 95's. I studied my butt off here, all the while maintaining a relationship with Jason. And I needed Jason, too. Thanks to him, I knew that there were men out there that would not hurt me. Now, Jenn of course, she worked her butt off and found a relationship as well. For me, on the other hand, well life became routine.

School almost became my second home. I spent a lot of time there. I went and spent a lot of time in the library. That is where I met Nancy and Jess. Nancy was short, about 5 foot nothing; Jess on the other hand was 6 feet 2 and played basketball. Nancy on the other hand was a geek, she was so technical. She loved music, and computers. Now, Jess wanted ME to attend a game where she was playing. Me, I thought. 'Yeah, whatever,'

you see, I would never get into any extracurricular activities. Besides, my life was full enough. I generally considered both girls my friends by the time my birthday arrived in early May. I not only enjoyed talking with Nancy and Jess, we often went for after school coffee and tea. We would spend that time relaxing until their parents picked them up on their way home from work.

The funny thing is that neither girl was in any of my classes. I guess it never really donned on me that I would have only just a few people that I interacted with. You see, I was not very popular at all. Oh sure, the guys gawked at me all of the time, and the girls were extremely jealous of my long legs and hair. But I got over that attention quickly. Having been raped by Adam, I didn't want to repeat the process, nor was I ever intimidated by the different clichés in the school.

My birthday approached and I just didn't worry about it. You see, I figured why, it was just another insignificant day when I was at home and just another day of the week when I was working the corners. So, as you can see, I never celebrated my birthday. Oh, I knew that Jenn had something planned, but I just was not quite sure what was going on.

So, I concentrated on my semester of classes. I was swamped with homework every night as I piled on extra classes that semester. I was taking the rest of my grade 9 courses as well as 4 of my grade 10 classes. Needless to say, I was over worked. At this point in time, Jason and I had moved on a while ago, I guess that I was as independent as I could ever be. I did miss our talks, though, and wanted for them to continue, but he had to move on as I couldn't drop my guard with him.

I arrived home from the library that May 2nd with my book bag weighted down with books and my purse. I was exhausted, I told Jen, "I'm going to lie down for an hour, and I am in some pain. My chest hurt and I am a bit nauseous."

She just nodded. About 90 minutes later, she knocked on my door and asked," Could you come out and talk to me for a few moments?"

I said, "I will be right out."

When I entered the kitchen area where Jenn was, there were others there sitting at the table and they jumped up and said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MELISSA!"

I cringed at the noise and started to cry as I sank to the floor. They rushed over to comfort me. I was in so much shock that I fainted away. I was scared out of my wits. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. The idea of a birthday party, or anybody doing something to honor me like this was totally alien to me. When I finally came to, I had slobber all over my mouth, and I was in dire need of the toilet, too.

After I cleaned myself up we actually enjoyed a somewhat nice time. THAT was how I celebrated my 19th birthday. I received a few short skirts and tops and heels (my trademark apparel). We had some tea and chocolate cake. The night was good, and we did a lot of talking. Jenn was there with Ashley from her job. Jenn was with her boyfriend Stan, (No, not Stanman63.) Ashley was with her boyfriend Keith.

It was just a quiet night chatting and celebrating. To me, that night meant a lot. On the one hand, I was celebrating it with Jenn, whom meant the world to me. Secondly, it was a milestone, as I was no longer trapped in adolescence. I was legal to drink and get my drivers license if I chose to do so. You see, the legal age was 16 for driver's licenses. I knew that I was over due with the driving thing. I really just did not concern myself with that. I guess it was well. It was after 3 when everyone left and I had said my goodbyes. I definitely thanked Jenn for her surprise on me. We hugged, and off to bed we went.

May passed into June and I passed all my classes and without missing a beat, I entered my summer with school work. Not summer school, actual class work that I had gained permission from the school to take home and get ahead. I finished the school year with a B+ average. I was needless to say impressed. I was accomplishing the goals that I had set for myself.

Jenn continued to work her job and was promoted to assistant manager. I was extremely proud of her and she decided to take some university classes at night starting in September. The summer dragged on and I accomplished enough of my courses to give myself some weekends to pamper myself. It was on of those weekends that I would forever remember and take me back to those night and days of abuse.........

Caution, This Chapter has thoughts from my father on what he was doing to me during my stay at home. This chapter has some graphic content as well as an insight into his mindset. I recovered a diary of my mothers in 1999 while going through the house for possessions. This pains me to no end here to place this on BC, however with support from those I trust and many emails I have received from friends I needed to post this chapter.

*************************************

I was happy to have a first born son, even though he was not my biological boy, I was overjoyed when my wife Francis and I (Murray) saw the bundle of joy. I always hoped to have a son where I could teach him to run a tractor, teach him to shoot, and go to the usual ball games. Francis doted over him. He was released to us on July 6 1964, he was an adopted child. His mother and father were of Irish decent. He had the most wonderful lock of red hair. He weighed 7 pounds 4 and 1/2 ounces. Being his Father, made me proud. His blue eyes were gems. I was as proud as a father.

Things changed for our little family when my wife told me that she was pregnant. I was completely overwhelmed with the thought of our family expanding. I was so hoping for a girl, I had my son. I guess I should mention here that our son we named Glenn Dale. The pregnancy was a good one and in August 1966 our son, Daniel was born. He weighed in at a nice 8 pounds 11 ounces. Our little family was complete, I now had two sons. I was ecstatic.

Things began to change when Glenn started to look thin and not acting quite right. I soon discovered he was secretly dressing in my wife's clothes. I found all this out very quickly in the summer of 1970. I was really pissed off and I grabbed him by the collar and dragged his sorry
ass to the barn. He was kicking and screaming, he was yelling and definitely crying. I stripped his clothes off. I was so steamed and seething mad that I wanted to beat the living hell out of him.

I strung him by the chain I had in the barn for hoisting engines, and let him hang there. He was crying and telling me that he was sorry. I ignored him and proceeded to whip him with my belt, and he wailed. I then reached for a bridle and proceeded to whip the shit out of him and yelling at him. "YOU FREAK!! YOU FAGGOT!! YOU QUEER!!"

I was relentless in the beating. Somewhere I knew I was going to beat the fucking little perversion out of him, even if it killed him. After I was through, I let him hang there, like I do with the slaughtered animals that I keep in the meat shack. I was not repulsed to see the blood dripping off his back. He was bruised and I didn't care. I was going to punish him, and punish him I did.

Time faded fast and the sun began to slip in the west, so I lowered the chains and yelled at him, "Hey little faggot, you have 10 minutes to crawl or walk to the house and eat, if not you don't eat and you will be stuck here," then I stormed off to the house.

I explained to my wife what went on and she nodded. She was still looking after our 4 year old son Daniel. After 10 minutes had passed, I went and locked the shed. I saw the lifeless body of Glenn and figured that he was in no shape to make it inside. Oh well, he can bloody well stay there for the night. I went and carried on with some last minute items on the tractor. At 5: A.M. I went to the barn and Glenn was awake and bloody, I told him, "Get your fucking ass in the house and get cleaned up! You have chores to do! We will have a long talk later."

I was seething still. My anger did not subside at all that day. After supper that evening, I hauled Glenn into the living room and told him to keep his mouth shut. My wife was there with Daniel. Glenn sat on the floor with his legs out to one side. He looked so pathetic. I proceeded to lay the law down to him.

I said, "From now on Sissy, you will follow these rules and they WILL be followed. Your mother and I have talked. And if this is how you want to be, then so be it! You will be a fucking sissy and a girl all the time. If you so much as step outside the rules you will be beaten and I do not fucking care how badly you get beat!"

All Glenn did was stare and he started crying and was shaking so badly. I really did not care at this point, so I hauled off and slapped him across the face, and he went flying against the wall. My wife took our son, Daniel to the bathroom and gave my 4 year old son a bath. I decided that Glenn no longer was my son. I hated him and he was going to be punished.

We sent him off to bed and told him to not make a peep or he would be punished. My wife just carried on with her evening and prepared Dan for bed. I love Dan with all my heart and hoped that he would not turn out like Glenn did, the little sissy and faggot.

The following days passed and Glenn followed direct orders and he barely made eye contact with me. My wife tried to console him but he openly rejected her. I guess he wanted nothing to do with either of us. That was fine with me. I would punish him and make him respect us. After all we were the ones that had to put up with his bullshit. He talked back to my wife one Friday afternoon before supper and it was off to the barn for another beating, and I beat him.

I really do not remember much of it, but I do know that I left him bleeding on the floor from his back and legs again and a few bruises on his head and bloodied nose. I locked the barn up and went in for supper. Francis never asked where Glenn was. The same routine went on for weeks and then months. My son Daniel grew up so quick.

I was so proud to have him as my son. He was my own and I was going to show him everything that a father would show his son.

Glenn became an inconvenience. He was useless. Sure he got good grades and did well in 4H and with his horse on the farm with the cattle, but over and above that he was useless. We dressed him in dresses and skirts and shoes fit for any floozy. He wanted to dress as a girl well he would get to 24/7. I doted on Dan always, gave him a gun at 8 and a bow and arrow at 10. Glenn became a liability for me, so I punished him all the time. I beat him daily for the pure hell of it. My wife never batted an eye at this as Dan became the center of her life, as well as mine.

I decided to step up the punishments a lot more with making sure that Glenn knew the rules and regulations of being a female. I began to sneak in and beat him while in bed. I have no remorse for what I did to him. I raped him repeatedly. He wanted to be a submissive fucking pansy and a sissy he was going to be one. I really did not give a fuck. I raped him till he bled and then I would beat him.

After each session as I began to reference them, I would entertain my wife's sexual prowess. Glenn was useless as a human being in my eyes and I did not want him. Oh sure, he cried and whined and yelled a lot, I ignored it all and gave no care to what he said or did, If he spoke back to me, he got beat. MY rules, he never had any say in this. I made him bleed repeatedly night after night and I even invited Dan to enjoy the pleasure of beating the little faggot and sissy.

We punished Glenn more and humiliated him by giving him nothing for his birthdays or for Christmas. Dan received all our love and attention. Dan was doted upon. I really didn't give a flying fuck what Glenn thought or did. He disappointed me greatly. He was not a man. He was and will always be a sissy and a faggot to me.

I told him time and time again, "You will never amount to anything, you're life is as useless, you will be a deadbeat, a prostitute is all that you are good for."

He looked the part, too with long red hair and a slight build. HE WAS NO SON OF MINE. He was an embarrassment. We were both a bit afraid he might spill his guts to the church pastor or his school friends, if he had any. One nice thing about country life is there is the "party Line". Everyone knew what went on at all times just by picking up the receiver and listening.

I knew he talked to Jenn a lot, but nothing was said to anybody else. My secret was safe. If it did get out, I would kill him and bury his body in the field where I bury the dead cows. Fuck I hate that sissy faggot.

He celebrated his 15th birthday on May 2, 1979 and we gave him a small cake and a few small gifts. I wish that we didn't have too. He has caused us a lot of trouble ever since we brought him into our house. What a complete waste of a human being. What a sissy. Always going to be a bit girlish I thought. I also thought what a fucking loser. I also wished he would die.

When dinner and cake was done He immediately left to the bath and cleaned up and went to bed. I proceeded to enter the room and abuse him, he just laid there and took it like the little bitch sissy he was. He cried of course and I made him bleed. I always walked out with a smile on my face.

The next morning I proceeded to go to his room and opened his door. I looked in and the window was open and he was not there. I smiled and thought good; maybe the sissy faggot ran away and will kill himself or is killed. I was happy. I had Dan and he was a real man or will be soon. My efforts would be now turned to him and make sure he had all the keys to life. I didn't care about Glenn, he is now a memory. A sad one at that and good riddance, hope he rots in HELL.

***

This part took a lot for me to include here and I apologize if it will make some readers queasy. I had to shed some light on how demented my father was. He was a sick perverted bastard. Enough said. I thank those who wrote me emails to share a bit of a background on my "father". I did so reluctantly, however I boldly did so. Comments are welcomed and points to improve on. Thanks.

This is an account from my mother's journals that I located while returning to the house that became my hell. I caution those readers that this may be somewhat disturbing. I had to write it based on what my MOTHER wrote. I did not know what she wrote prior to me finding these papers. This is over the course of many years here and had to condense it to a format that I could try and live with. It took a lot for me to post this. The pain has racked me after reading these journals from my mother.

[] [] []

May 1964 to May 1979

{}{}{}

I began to feel a closeness to my new son, Glenn. He was so adorable, red lock of hair and blue eyes. He was just so cute. I was not blessed to give birth for the number of times my husband Murray and I tried to get pregnant. Adoption seemed the best opportunity to start our quaint little family. We were deeply blessed when we were granted adoption of Glenn Dale, a cute name. I vowed that Glenn would want for nothing in life, that if he wanted to play a sport, or have a hobby, he would get it.

I totally devoted my time and energy in looking after him. I loved my baby. But, soon after, I began to feel ill very quickly. I went to the Doctor and I was deemed pregnant. I was going to have another child. I was ecstatic and thrilled. I told my husband of the news and he smiled. Our little family would increase by one. I had hoped for a girl this time as my husband had his son. I wanted a girl to watch grow up and get married. I guess that it is true that when a couple adopts, they soon have a child of their own.

I was elated that we had now a second son. Sure it dashed my hopes of a girl. He was healthy and beautiful. We named him Daniel. I proceeded to dote upon him and give him all the attention that he needed, and then some. My husband, however, began to sense a strain with the family, only more so with Glenn. He became despondent and very shy. I never paid any attention to this at all.

But, my world crashed when Murray caught Glenn in my clothes, and that changed the fabric of our family. I became a scared girl. He took all his rage out on Glenn and it would spill over to me after his rages. There were threats made to me as well as some beatings. None as severe as those inflicted on Glenn, I was helpless. I was forced into feeding Glenn small amounts of hormones, my birth control pills. I was helpless. I was lost. I was forced into protecting Daniel over my Glenn.

The abuse continued on Glenn and I took a lot of verbal and some physical abuse from Murray . Murray had gone off the wall and I never bothered to stand up for my child, Glenn. I had to protect the one that I could to the best of my abilities. Oh, I doubt that he will ever know about how I spent many a nights crying silently as I heard the abuse of Glenn and was held captive by my own fate if I did step in. I wish I could do more to protect him.

Murray beat him and then the rapes started on Glenn nightly and his body began to make subtle changes and I could see breasts developing from Murray giving him my pills. When my prescriptions ran out, I continued to give him my pills and never stopped doing it for fear of retaliation from my husband. I was scared.

Murray threatened, "If you ever so much as mentioned our family secrets in and around our town and community it will be over. I will kill Glenn!"

I could not even mention it to my friends that I had in the PTA. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Murray invited Daniel to participate in the abuse of Glenn nightly and then the rapes. I cried silently when I heard the screams and sobbing from Glenn. I was so afraid for him and for myself. I began to realize that I had ignored the cries and felt really bad. Murray grew extremely angry when ever I brought up the subject and he reminded me that " in no uncertain terms, "Glenn was not ours and had to be punished and punished he will be."

May 2 1979

This went on for years and then it came to an abrupt end the night of Glenn's birthday. His small cake and the small gifts that were given to him were absolutely appalling, however, even though I became a participant in this humiliation and demoralizing act upon him. I actually felt so sorry for him. I never told him I loved him and so wanted to hold him. I couldn't. I basically abandoned my son.

Sure he was adopted, never the less he was mine more than my husbands. I now realize that he has left here and hope he does alright. I cannot be sure though, as I was told soon after Murray found him gone. I was somewhat relieved, and yet, my heart sank. I then decided to place all my energies into raising Daniel. He became my life and would be till he grew up and left home.

All I could do was hope that Glenn chose a path of freedom, survival. As I look back now in reflection on the last 15 years. I have gone from elation to hurt to embarrassment to shame and even failure. I failed to protect Glenn. I was absolutely powerless to protect him.

July 20 1990

I still have terrible thoughts of what went on in my family's life. I failed as a mother. I failed as a human being. Worst of all, I realize I may never see my son Glenn again. I can only pray and hope that he is well. But is he now more girl than boy? Have the pills transformed him? Is he even alive?

Murray and I recently celebrated our anniversary and we never brought up Glenn. That subject had long since dropped. He just smiles about what he did to Glenn. But myself, I often wondered how he made out while on the run as I have never even received word from him on his whereabouts. I even tried to contact Jenn this week as I often did and she never knew where he was and never said that he was ever in contact.

I knew that she knew what had gone on. She had too. Glenn was close to her as a sister would be to a sister. I guess in a sense if Glenn survived he would probably be a girl now or at least a reasonable imitation of one. His slim figure and his budding breasts sure made him look like one over the years. I feel sorry for him. I hope he is well.

I have to go into the hospital now as I am to undergo some tests for breast cancer. I hope not. I cannot dwell on what happened. I have to deal with now and what may come to my future. Danny has left to roost. He now works with the trucking industry. I am proud of him. Murray is here with me, and well, he is so caring and dotes over me now. I guess that we have a pang of the empty nest syndrome.

We still have the farm and our community. I guess if Glenn or even Danny finds this then they might read it. I hope not. I know it will hurt a lot of people, especially Glenn or whatever his name will be, if he survived. I really do wonder though if he did great. If he didn't then God will have him as I couldn't help him and I just ignored the problem. I was wrong. I know that when I die, God may have some harsh words for me. Right now, I do not care. I care about me right now.

***

I condensed a lot of this to make it readable. There were some parts of her journal that were to painful for me to write here. I am still shocked after all these years that she was herself a victim in all this. If I had only known, I still blame her for this mess especially the Hormones. I mainly blame my Father and yes I blame my brother. I have a deep rooted hatred towards them all for what they did to me. I can only portray this in the first person.

I had to as I never knew exactly what she was thinking daily and over the course of months and years that this went on. I thank you dear readers for your comments on this and the many emails wishing for backgrounds. It was done so at an emotional strain on me. Thank you.

I wrote this while I was back home, after reading my 'parents' journals. I had to after reading their journals which told of their love for me at first which turned into vile hatred soon after. Why they kept on hating me is a mystery to me. All that I wanted was for the hell to end. . It is a very touching letter from a son to his mom on how he feels about being a boy trapped in his body and not being able to reach his potential as a girl he feels inside. It is a letter written to my 'mother' after the fact. There is a twist, a scary one at that as an all too real reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 9th 1979
To Mom,
I am writing this letter to inform you that I am not happy being whom I am. I have to tell you that I should be a girl. I feel awful. I am scared to tell you. I feel dejected and hurt when you ignore my pleas. For the longest time I have felt different. I never get involved with sports; never participate in anything remotely having to do cars and machines. The only interest I have is reading and horses.

I am skinny and underdeveloped as a boy. I feel as though I am a girl inside and I cannot tell you how I feel cause of the reaction that you will have. I can not tell you cause you will tell dad and well he will beat me again, like he has dozens of times and all you do is ignore it. I never have friends that I can invite over for fear of rejection and embarrassment. I hurt mother. It's something that you will never experience. I detest my body. I hate it. I want to hurt myself so bad. I have thoughts and dreams of dying and I feel that you would ignore that as well.

I have tried on your clothes and loved it. I have dreamed that we could be mom and daughter. Of course for me that is wishful thinking. I feel you hate me. You detest my existence. Your detest my presence in your company that is why you send me away each night so I am away from you and dad. I hate my younger brother; he is a thorn in my side since he was born. You shower him with love and ignore me.

Dad hates me so much that he beats me and rapes me and yet you ignore it. Why? Why do you hate me so much? What have I done too allow you to hate me so? I am only 15 years old. I am so disgusted with life that you will not allow me to be whom I should be. I hate you, Hate this life I have. I hate the repeated beatings, the rapes and the assaults. I hate you for hating me.

Those times when I thought you loved me, which was an act I guess. You never loved me. You never wanted me so why did you take me in. You shower my asshole brother with attention and love and despise me. What gives there? Why do you hate me so? I guess you will come to your senses sometime when I am gone.

Yes, Mother I am going to kill myself. Then and only then maybe you will stop to think of what you have done to me. You rejected me, you hate me now. I am going to leave so you can think of what you caused me as far as pain and hurt. I should have been a girl or never born. I hate this life. I hate that fact I cannot be who I need to be. You never talk to me. You talk down or ignore me. Why Mother, why?

I want to wear dresses and skirts and tops and date. I want everything a girl wants and yet I cannot nor will I ever get that. I want to be your daughter, your little girl, your baby, instead of that ass of a brother. I was first and I should always be first. I do not want to be a prince I want to be a princess. I want to be me.

Goodbye mother, tell that miserable asshole dad and brother to go to hell. I am going to kill myself now so bye.
Ban.........g

///////////////

The reason that it is to here is that I could never stand up to him.

Life was always and has never been all that kind to me. If I could turn the clock back in time I guess I would wish that I had never been born. Why? You ask, well, it is Déjà Vu all over again. You see, the past that I had put behind me would make an awful appearance, all too soon and bring back my nightmares with a vengeance. Only those who have suffered as I have or their friends can hope to comprehend my hell.

The summer started off nice and quiet, Jenn went off to visit her family and I had reign of the apartment. I had picked up a small part time job at the local convenience store for my first "legit" job. I was happy about that. My hours were only 4 hours on; Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. A total of 12 hours a week, not bad considering I would work up to 18 on the street, this was a substantial change.

Anyhow, my school work progressed as I took on homework to get ahead in my classes for the fall semester.

Here I was, a school girl, well on her way to a new life that was totally different from the one that she knew. I was going grom a street wise prostitute to something worthwhile. I had no idea about what was about to happen to me, that fateful day. If I had known, I'd have done things differently.

My world of peace ended abruptly, one Friday as I was walking from the library when I saw my nemesis, ADAM. He rounded the corner from the library and immediately sought me out by following me to the bus. I quickened my pace and he literally ran and caught up to me and knocked me down. In broad daylight, he immediately punched me in the face and started to pound on my body. I had no fight as my hands were kinda pinned by his knees as he was punching me. I went unconscious soon after and woke up in the ER. My worst nightmare returned all over again, with that prick.

The ER nurse, Karen came in and told me that I had been, raped and started
asking all sorts of questions about my gender and my health background etc. Some I was willing to answer while the others I shrugged off. Yes, I knew she was trying to help; I was just not to comfortable talking about things with her.

Karen; "Melissa, you are badly bruised on my face and two of your ribs are broken on the left side."

I wished I was dead after the beating that I just took. I asked her, "Did they get ADAM?"

She told me, I'm not sure."

I shrugged. I hurt like hell. I cried. And then I fell asleep.

|||||||

Several days passed, and I was released from the hospital. I went home, via cab and went to bed on the couch. I made sure though that the hospital called my work so that they knew that I was hospital bound. Over the next few weeks, I really struggled. Jenn came home and she freaked out. I told her about my run in with ADAM. We had a cry session. I debated yet again my purpose.

It brought horrid memories of life on the farm dealing with my abusers, my "father" and "brother". I get depressed really quickly. I wanted to end my life and I almost did, it was the middle of July and I remember grabbing a kitchen knife with a 6 inch blade, going into the bathroom and running the bath water, then climbing into the tub. I remember slashing the insides of both my legs high enuff on them. Near my groin area, I passed out.

I woke in the psych ward back at the hospital where only a few weeks previous I was released. I was strapped to the bed with the heavy restraints. I cried. I screamed to high hell over being tied down like a crazed animal. I woke up a day later. I cried. When was this shit ever going to be right for me? I hate my life, I hate FUCKING MEN!! I hate everything period.

I found out is Jenn whom had found me in the tub and screamed and called 911. I owe her so much. I wanted to die. I so wanted to end it all and
see what came next, if anything. Life sucked and I hated everything in it. I even blamed Jenn for rescuing me. I was so angry, all those pent up feelings and emotions flooded back. And I was reliving my hell on earth again. I had no escape this time. I was confined to a bed and a room. NOT FUN.

Then, a week and a half later, a woman came in and sat at the side of the bed and introduced herself to me. Her name was Sheila. Sheila was a short woman of 5 foot 4 and heavy set, not too heavy. She wore glasses and had greyish brown hair. She carried a file folder and a clipboard. She looked at my file and then we started to talk.

Sheila: "Hi Mellissa, how are you feeling today?"

Me: "OK, maybe, not sure, I want out of here"

Sheila: "Not going to happen, we have to have a along talk and then I WILL decide what you will do!!" she emphatically stated.

Me: "Why me, Why can I not die and be left alone?"

Sheila: "You tell me why you want to die. Tell me why you hate yourself." She had one of those looks that could shake apples from a tree as she stared at me. They were not kind eyes.

Me: "I want too, I hate life, I hate MEN, and I hate everything, why shouldn't I die?" I fired back at her.

Sheila: "Tell me why you hate your life. Tell me why you want to die. You are skipping the questions with asking questions." She made notes and then scowled at me. I could immediately tell this was going to be a long day with this bitch here. I turned my head and closed my eyes.

Sheila: Why don't you talk with me? I am here to assist you and hope to help you and then see what happens after our little chat here today."

Me: "Why should I, you think I am a freak, an idiot and a nobody. Why would you fucking care?"

She shook her head at me,: "Why would you say that, Mellissa. I am here to help you. I am here to listen to you. I want to help you if I can. I do now some of your background from talking to Jenn. You do remember who Jenn is, right?"

I nodded.

Sheila: "Well then tell me I cannot help yu if you do not open up to me and tell me why you want to die." her demenour changed slightly to a more calm state.

Me: "Sheila, the reason I want to die is that I cannot keep living and feeling that everyone wants to abuse me and to hurt me. I want to die because I do not want to feel pain, to feel used. Fuck! I was used like a punching bag at home for 9 fucking years and then a life of hell on the streets and you expect me to want to keep living? I have nothing to give, I am nothing. I am to be used and fucking abused by everyone and hurt in the process."

She kept writing notes. She was calm and got up after several more questions, never did respond to my response to her inquiries. All she did was say, "I will see you tomorrow."

I went to sleep.

||||||

After the following weekend. Sheila paid me a second visit, this one longer than the first. I was a lot calmer and somewhat rested. I asked for the restraints to be taken off and they were not. I was told that they would not be till I was no longer a threat to myself. Fuck! What could I do there; I had nothing to kill myself with. Oh well.

We had a much more intense session. I was told by her that I was what they called a transsexual. I never knew. I told her," I was forced into this situation and never looked back. I had suffered so much abuse at the hands of my "FATHER" and "BROTHER", being raped daily. I had no choice but to live life as a girl and to survive on the streets. HELL! I was given hormones by my mother, and she neglected me. I even tried to commit suicide at home, But once I ran away, I enjoyed the freedom of the road when I was riding."

"How did she give the hormones to you?"

"In my food, but once I was on the streets I bought the pills and took them."

"What size are you?"

"I am a nice comfortable 34 c at 18 years of age."

"What did you see on the streets?"

"I saw, the ongoing abuse on the streets, and at time, was raped. Then of course, there were the murders that I witnessed." she looked as though she could faint as I described the horror I saw when I witnessed the murders. After several hours she left. I was left alone to contemplate my fate. Déjà Vu becomes true.....

As the summer progressed. I felt that my time under psyche care was beneficial in many ways. First off; I was able to get a lot of my feelings within reason, sorted out. Secondly; my fears about my relationships with men were drawn to the surface by Sheila. I had a lot of issues that I needed to sort out, those just being a few. Others were of course , school, my ongoing transition, friendships, parents, my running away etc.

The later I will deal with at a later time (parents, running).Sheila and I spent a considerable amount of time discussing issues that meant a lot to my overall psyche'. One of them centered on my ongoing transition, I clearly stated, "I can not go back to that weak little scared boy of who always was the target of abuse. Melissa is here to stay! I have found a comfort and strength from within."

"So, you are no longer Glenn? If you want to, you can be Glenn, again."

"No, I am stronger for my attitude and I will not be pushed about.

She complimented me on that part of my personality, "Yes, as Melissa, you do have great strength. It was when you were attacked that Glenn returned, and he chose suicide, NOT you, Melissa.

"I feel that you are being critical of me as Melissa."

"No, in fact, Melissa, I respect you for choosing the path that you are now on."

I was released 3 weeks and 4 days after being admitted. I was relieved. I promised her tat I would continue to speak to her via phone and by appointment when I needed to talk about issues.

///

I eventually caught up with my missed school assignments that I failed to do because of my stupid act. A few weeks later, I completed them and prepared for my next full semester of school. I had completed a completed grade 9, part of the grade 10 courses. I made myself a continuous promise to complete school as soon as I could. The setback only made me more determined to succeed.

Thanks to Jenn, who continued to provide the necessary shelter to me? I also continued with my obligation to her for my assistance in living expenses. I was very lucky; my old job was waiting for me. When my boss heard about what had happened to me, he uses a temp agency until I got out.

Jenn was dating and working a fair amount at this time, too. Her home life was for all practical purposes, non-existent except for some nights and weekends. Those times that I was alone in the apartment, I managed to continue to hit the books and study hard.

'''''''''

September past to October which slid into November, then before we all knew it we were into December. The holiday scene that I avoided with a passion, Jenn went home to her family for each and every holiday. She did invite me as many times as she could, but I gracefully declined politely. She seemed to accept that from me. She knew from our talks why I declined her offer.

For me, holidays were not very pleasant; I was shut out of the traditional meal by being sent to my room. So the "traditional family" dinner was a hurtful experience for me. I always paid the penalty afterwards with the usual beatings and or rapes. To this very day, I prefer to spend each holiday season alone.

Hope shined on me right after the New Year, though. I was asked to attend a function with Sheila at her residence for pre-operative transsexuals. Me, I was giddy with joy. I was not exactly sure why I was invited, though. I saw myself as a girl, NOT as a transsexual. I accepted readily of course. The function was February 16th at 7:30: P.M. I was asked to dress semi casual. Well, for me semi casual meant short skirt and top with my navel showing.

I had to ask Jenn for advice and to go get something less revealing. I picked out a black knee length dress with long sleeves and gold trim about the neck and sleeves. I chose it because I could get away with wearing my 2 inch heels with the diamonds on the straps. The day arrived, and I went. Oh, what a night it was. I was introduced to several members of the medical community from doctors to psychologists to psychiatrists. To me, that was the best night I had. I will say this, though. When I arrived home, I had a firm commitment from a qualified psychologist who would see me.

His name was Doctor Raight (pronounced Right). He was an elderly Englishman of about 55 or so. We met several weeks after the party. We had an extensive chat, and well needless to say, there was at least a bit of hope for me. I told him how long I was in transition as he called it. I mentioned to him my background, and my current medical status. He seemed pleased, however, there was a drawback to his demeanor.

That was that I needed to live for at least 2 more years as a full time female and see him at least 6 more times within the 2 year time frame. I agreed. I had already been living full-time as a female and had acquired ID to state the same. Although it was an illegal ID. It surpassed the closest scrutiny. I was well on my way according to him to sexual reassignment. He mentioned to me that he had several long conversations with both my doctor and with Sheila. I was happy and kept my fingers crossed that no interference would invade that time frame. I was so wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Several months had passed and I had moved through midterm exams all of which I passed maintaining a B average. I let my guard down and met a guy by the name of Dennis. He was cute by my standards. He had the most gorgeous blue eyes that you could imagine, and was very tall. He stood over 6 feet 5 and very muscular. With dark brown hair, he was a sight to see. I made a fatal mistake with him, I negated to tell him about me and my past when it came up during conversations. The end result was he beat me pretty badly. I spent a few weeks in hospital and I had him charged with assault.

Summer approached then fall approached and then finally summer again, and I was going to be free from school. It will be three full years full time school. When it was all over I graduated with a B+ average, and made the honor roll. I was impressed.

Jenn and I celebrated my graduation with pizza with a small party at her place of work. I began to work at a small convenience store soon after I graduated. The hours were at night (actually graveyard) the 12 hour shift was 11 P.M. till11 A.M. I worked with one other lady, her name was Beth. She was short about 5 feet nothing and dark black hair and green eyes. She was a wonderful woman to work with.

I continually thought and hoped that my life would change for the better and it did for the next few years. During that time I was promoted to assistant manager of the store with Beth and enrolled in University. I definitely had the grades for it. I kept up with my appointments with Sheila and Dr. Raight. I decided to take in university administration courses. I was loaded down with a full slate.

I made a promise that I would do the same thing then as I did for when I was in high school; work hard and study. No party time for me. It worked too, as I received my Admin degree in the spring of 1988. Then I chose to study Political Science. I graduated in the spring of 1992 with a full Political Science degree. I was proud of my accomplishments. Jenn had moved away by that time and I had my own place. I paid $150 a month with utilities included. I traveled by bus to and from work.

Beth sold the store and I was out of a job, so I started looking. I eventually found a job in a national chain store, stocking shelves. That was where I met Jason. Yes the Jason whom earlier I mentioned. Well my life would be turned upside down in two ways after that year was being out. To my knowledge, I never realized how much my life would change.

I awoke on Friday morning with a severe headache and inclination to jot a poem, not a good one in my recollection. However; it holds some meaning
now that I have located it in my journals. I have decided to post it here. Firstly I would like to draw back to fall of 1987. That particular day did not begin well for me. I faced yet a challenge that today; it is amazing that I have kept a level head.

The only reason that I did was because of the Lord. I did not know what was to happen that day, but I do believe that He was with me, even if though I was blind to His Presence in my life at the time. You see, I was still the battle weary girl at the time; I had yet to find Him, even though He had already accepted me.

September 22nd.

I woke up with my entire body aching and my vision not quite what I thought it would be. Stumbling to the bathroom and almost falling. I grabbed the wall and tried unsuccessfully to maintain my balance, but I fell. Then I struggled to get upright. Jenn was at work, I was alone and a bit scared. I felt extremely weak and somewhat disoriented. I eventually managed to make it to the bathroom and attempt to look at myself in the mirror.

As blurry as I appeared in the mirror, I knew that something was drastically wrong with me. I stumbled towards the phone by holding onto the walls, only to fall once again. Nearly missing the table in the kitchen, I reached the phone. I dialed 911 and waited till the ambulance arrived. I was assessed and rushed to the ER.

Once at the ER, I was given a battery of tests. Those included a CT scan and a MRI. A battery of blood work was done on me, and then I was admitted to the hospital. The following morning, I was still disoriented, was not completely aware of my surroundings. Attempting to rise from my bed, I fell to the floor, crashing hard. The nurses came and placed me in the bed, told me that if I needed anything, that I was to call for them. Several hours passed by and the doctors arrived. My GP was first in and was first to speak to me.

DR: "Good Morning Melissa."

Me: "HI," was all I could muster out of my dry mouth, I could barely see him.

DR: "This Dr's Mac Millan and Hughs." I nodded even though I could not see them clearly.

He proceeded to explain to me what was up with me.

DR: "Melissa, We have determined with the results of the MRI and the CT scan that you have Multiple Sclerosis."

I was not sure what the hell that was let alone what they were talking about. What the hell is this Multiple Sclerosis shit? I was getting antsy, and very scared. What was wrong with me? What had broken in my body? Had my time on the streets finally caught up to me in some way? He went on to describe the symptoms to me.

DR: " MS, Melissa, is a neurological disorder that affects the mylin lining around the nervous system, it can cause all sorts of problems. Though the symptoms can be from dizziness to blindness to musculature spasms. They can also be deadly."

Fuck!!! He got right the heart of the matter. I was getting shakes and all I remember was the nurse being called. Did I call Jenn at Work?" If I did, why was she not here?

///////////////

I was awake several hours later. I was not sure what had transpired in the previous several hours. I was shocked and taken aback with what I remembered my GP mentioning to me. I never gave Mac Millan and Hughs an opportunity to speak to me at all. Jenn was called I guess and the message was that she would be up after 7:P.M. that night. I was still having vision issues, and just could not wrap my head around this, at all.

I began to wonder, "Why? What the Fuck? What was happening to my perfect body? Well, OK, maybe not exactly perfect, just my body."

I swore I would look after it and I damn well did a good job of it too. Was this my fault? Was this my idiotic parents doing? I was lost and getting pissed in the process. I pushed the call button and the RN came in. Her name was Natalie; she was tall, thin, short blonde hair cut pixie style, blue eyes and an eagle tattoo on her ankle which I could see under her nylons. She washed me, and asked, are you alright? Do you need pain medication?"

I gratefully answered, "No, Ma'am. I am fine. What went on this morning?"

"I will get a hold of Doctor Hughs. He will explain things to me."

I just nodded my head.

Ninety minutes later Doctor Hughs and Jenn walked into my room. After a gentle hug and greetings, Doctor Hughs proceeded to tell me what was actually going on with my body. For fuck sake I was 23 years old I did not need this shit to happen to me. Hadn't I been to hell and back? Shit!!!!

DR HUGHS: " Melissa, I understand you are wondering what was going on and what your body is doing to you."

I nodded.

"Well, basically, in simple terms, your body is having a fight with in itself to maintain electrical impulses to your muscles and your brain. The problem is that we do not know why or how, but your body is fighting."

I started to cry while Jenn held my hand.

"I am a neurologist; I mainly looked after MS clients, so I am now going to look after you. You are to undergo more tests to figure out the extent of the MS."

He left, and Jenn and I talked.

Jenn: "My God Girl! I cannot leave you alone it seems without something going on in your life."

Me: "Yes, looks that way, girlfriend. Shit, I cannot understand this."

Jenn: "What happened?"

Me: "This morning, I woke up with my entire body aching, I tried to get up, but fell. Eventually, I saw how bad I looked in the mirror. Then I got to phone in the kitchen, and called for help."

Jenn: "Yes, I saw the table and the wall where your hand prints are, and the disarray of the phone table. The EMT'S left a bit of a mess. But I cleaned it up."

Me: "Sorry about the mess."

Jenn: "Don't be! You are sick!"

Me: "OK, Jenn, how did you find out? I don't remember calling you."

Jenn: "The hospital called me at work. When they did, I began to worry about you."

"Me : "Sorry, Jenn!"

Jenn: "As I said, don't be. Do you need to contact, anyone?"

Me: "Only you."

She left and I went to sleep.

***********

Over the next 5 days, I was given a multitude of tests; I was a wreck to say the least. I was diagnosed with Remittent MS, which means I will have bouts of fatigue, dizziness and bouts of vision loss. I was given meds to assist me in dealing with them, Copaxone along with vitamins. My HRT was also changed to a lower dosage. I was released several days after that.

********

Over the course of the fall and winter, and the following several months, I developed an attitude in how I dealt with this. I attended to my University classes, pouncing on them with a vengeance. Talk about a double whammy. My malady had only made me even more determined to succeed. Well, as you already know, I did. But I wonder if I would have succeeded as well without the MS.

***********

That Christmas, I was having a quiet dinner by myself when I started shaking very violently. I was told that I knocked a lot of things over. I ended up back in the hospital and was hit by the realization that I had Epilepsy. I knew I had tremors etc. I never expected this to happen to me twice in a few short months. I began to wonder what would happen next. Would I contract breast cancer?

Again, I was given Medication to assist in the seizures. They never worked the way that they were supposed to. I was taken off of them, one after another to try to find one that worked. Finally, I was given a medication called DILANTIN. This med has assisted in maintaining my seizures within limits. I still have seizures; I have been told that some are very violent. I was once again comforted by Jenn and she was obviously filled in on what had happened to me.

I was shaken to the core twice in a few short months. Fuck! My life was hell. What was going on with me? Was this punishment for something? Or maybe more punishment. Fuck! I had no idea. I later found out I had had the Epilepsy since I was a little kid. I really started hating my life once again, becoming more and more depressed. I channeled my energies into school and trying to talk about this with Jenn and those that would listen to me. I wrote a little piece of prose that kinda summed up how I felt. It is called the BURDEN:

MY BURDEN

MY BURDEN WAS TO BE BORN....

MY BURDEN WAS TO TRY AND LIVE...
.
MY BURDEN WAS TO ACCEPT MY FATE....

MY BURDEN WAS TO ESCAPE....

MY BURDEN WAS TO RUN....

MY BURDEN WAS TO HATE....

MY BURDEN WAS TO DEGRADE MYSELF....

MY BURDEN IS TO TRY AND LOVE MYSELF....

MY BURDEN WAS TO WONDER WHY? ....

MY BURDEN WAS TO DISTRUST GOD....

MY BURDEN IS TO FEAR MYSELF....

MY BURDEN IS TRYING TO CARE FOR ME....

MY BURDEN IS TO GROW OLD....

MY BURDEN IS TO BE ALONE....

MY BURDEN IS TO DIE....

MY BURDEN ALONE AND NO OTHER.... END OF DISCUSSION!!.

Melissa N Copyright 1987 (prairie_girl_64)

The weeks progressed into months, and eventually turned into years and the MS gradually increased upon my life as well as my epilepsy. I was so shaken, shaken to the core. I was so scared. I looked at this as a continuation of the personal hell that I was to endure in my life. I began to feel like I was a total burden on those around me. I began to feel that I was just that, a burden. To Jenn, to those I met and talked too at university, to work, too those I met at the bus stop each morning. Yes I felt self pity. For the first time in my life I felt like a failure.

My life was turning to shit, and I was being dragged into the pile. I was so emotional, I was so scared. I was so pissed off, too. Yes, I almost ended my life, there and then, but I didn't. I came to realize that after many long and arduous chats with Jenn and those around me, that I had some kind of purpose. Yes, I dated, however, none panned out. I was kinda glad of that though.

I still have bouts of depression today over my place in this world and if I truly am a burden to those around me. I guess that I will never know, for sure. I often think of how my life has changed so dramatically and drastically over the course of my life. That in the early part of 1992; I would face my most challenging and most scary event in my life, 8 months later.

In October of that year, I would be on a downward spiral. This event would test me to the limits and send me to extreme thoughts and depression. That Event would be with JASON. I would dub him my hell on earth experience since my "father". And I may be extremely kind here. Hell on earth does not and will not express my thoughts and feelings here. Damn I hate my life..........

When I woke up, I saw that I was in hospital and that I was all alone. I was scared, because I could not see Jenn. I needed her, but she was not there. There was no one around, just the lights on above me.

I immediately panicked and began shaking, and I pressed what ever button I could reach. I just had to know where Jenn was. Could she be down in the cafeteria? Could she be in the gift shop? Was she alright?

I waited and waited. Then, a tall nurse arrived. She looked flustered or stressed, which, I was not actually sure of. All that I knew was that I was in alot of pain. I was so shaken, I never gave her much choice as I started asking questions.

Me: "Where the hell am I? What the Hell happened too me? what is going on? Who the hell are you? Where is my clothes? Where is Melanie? Where is Jason? What the hell is going on? Why am I here?' I was in tears at this point.

The nurse answered me by first explaining who she was. Her name was Cecile, she was tall about 5'10 auburn hair and green eyes. She first told me in a not so calm voice, Keep it down or I will have to sedate you."

Me: "OK, But I am scared out of my wits!".

Cecile: "First, you are in the Hospital, Melissa. Second, you were brought in over 5 weeks ago. You have been in a coma for a while now. Third, your clothes were cut off of you. Fourth, Melanie will be here soon. Fifth, Jason was arrested. Six, you were badly beaten and raped, hence the bandages and casts about your arms and legs and face,that is all I know."

Me: I swore silently, 'FUCK!' "When is this shit going to end?"

Cecile: "You are now in ICU and have been here about 23 days now, we almost lost you on three different occasions."

Me: "I didn't know!"

Cecile: "You are lucky to be alive after the beating you took. We are amazed at that."

Me: "Please, leave me alone." I was in tears, she gave me something for pain, then left.

----------

I woke several hours later and Melanie was in the chair beside the bed, reading the latest glamour mag. I was now, at peace. Here was someone who I knew that I could trust. Melanie is the girl I became friends with in the apartment building that I moved into after Jenn went off to college.

I lived upstairs and she down. We often met for coffee and tea and the usual gossip. She became my friend when Jenn went away. No, I do not hate or blame Jenn. She had her own life to live, and at the time, I was ready, too.

Anyhow, she smiled when I turned my head towards her and she spoke. "How are you feeling, Melissa?"

All I could so was whisper, "Not good, I need a drink and I am hungry."

Well, truth to tell, I was being fed by IV, my nutrients and meds. I was a real mess.

She smiled and said, "I will be back in a second."

When she returned a nurse was with her and it was not my previous nurse, she was Lorraine, short and stocky, 5 feet nothing and black hair and brown eyes. She asked me, "How are you feeling? Do you remember anything at all?"

I nodded in the negative, Sorry, no."

She frowned, then left. Melanie had a worried look on her face. but all she did was hold my hand. I guess 30 minutes later two orderlies came into my room and took me to the X-Ray department. I was given a MRI and a CT scan. They returned to me to my room, some 90 minutes later.

Melanie told me all that she could tell me, "You called me at 5:P.M. and asked me to help you with your makeup and to talk about your impending date with Jason that evening. I arrived and you had the most beautiful black dress on that accentuated your curves. I believe it was your VS dress. I left at 6:45 and left you to wait til Jason arrived. I remember you telling me how you met and how you reconnected. I was extremely happy for you. I could here you above me with your heals on the lino floor in your kitchen several times."

"Yes, I was anxious, at the time."

"The pacing stopped when I heard Jason' come home, He looked obviously drunk and not in a very good mood when I saw him from my window. Next thing I know was a I heard a loud crash and a very loud bang. I was scared, for you and for me. I called 911 and told them what I could hear. They advised me not too get involved. I got really angry. I went up to your place and I literally saw Jason throw you through your kitchen wall, then repeatedly beat you and kick you. I yelled at him to stop, he had a look of rage and was totally pissed off as well as drunk as I could smell the alcohol from where I was. He repeatedly beat you then I saw him rape you. I know you hit him, although I do not know how you did that. When you did it, he staggered and fell backwards. I then screamed as loud as I could as I saw your legs twisted and arms not where they obviously should be pointing."

"I didn't know that I hit him, nor that you saw it all."

"He rose up on his feet and stumbled towards you and gave you a swift kick to the face and then another to your groin and abdomen. I was still screaming. He staggered towards the door and stumbled into me, I was scared and fell back against the railing. He stumbled down the stairs and got in his car and left. I had to make a choice, stay with you or follow him. I chose to follow him in my car as the ambulance had arrived and I told them to call the police as I was going to follow that car. I followed him back to the bar where he was at from the beginning. He stumbled and staggered into the place and the cops arrived and went in to the place and hauled him out in cuffs, he was cussing and swearing, that he should have killed that"bitch" (you Melissa). I was so taken aback and scared that I needed assistance back to the house and to the hospital. They would not let me near you. I was told that you were severely beaten and that you were unconscious."

"Damn! What about my job?"

"I checked on you everyday, I called your work and explained the situation and then I went into your place of work and talked to your boss. You have a job when you get out of here."

I was shocked with a blank expression. I started to cry. I asked her, "What happened to my apartment?"

"It is a mess, the walls were badly damaged or destroyed. The main thing is that I am glad that you are alive."

I asked, "Please, call Jenn."

"Where Can I find her number?"

I told her in a muffled whisper where her number was as well as the number where she might be working. She soon left 3 hours later. I began to cry. I began to seriously doubt my existence here. I wanted to kill myself, I wanted it to be over with. I was so alone. I was so frustrated and in so much agony. I eventually fell asleep, with tears streaming down my cheeks.

**************

In April 1992 I reconnected with Jason and we talked alot and we started to become a regular couple at the local coffee shop, each week. The weeks passed and then months and both our jobs were going well. He was a local manager at a local computer outlet, while I maintained my job in retail. The summer passed quickly and then fall.

Both of us had decided to go out and have a wonderful dinner on the 24th of October. I made reservations at a kinda upscale restaurant call the DIPLOMAT. The restaurant was posh with a suit and tie dress code etc. Not very expensive, but expensive enuff. I had purchased a black ,off the right shoulder Victoria's Secret dress. The dress came to 2 inches above my knees. I decided that a trip to the salon was in order.

I made a appointment for 11:30 and went. I had my nails done and my hair styled nicely and put in a french twist. (my hair was down to my rear end) This posed a chore for my stylist Marie. I went home and relaxed and then took a bath and called Melanie. She came up and we talked and gossiped. Melanie left and I continued to get ready. I paced and paced.

After 45 minutes I called Jason's work and was told he left and should be on his way home. I figured probably traffic. I waited and paced about. Then he arrived and he looked disheveled. That is all I can remember...... The lights went out after I heard screams..........

**********************

POINTS TO IMPROVE ON ARE WELCOME. THIS IS A ACCOUNT FROM MY JOURNAL UP TIL THAT NIGHT IN OCTOBER AND WITH MELANIE'S OWN WORDS SHE WROTE FOR ME SEVERAL WEEKS AFTER I WENT HOME. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHOM HAVE COMMENTED AND EMAILED ME ON THIS JOURNEY. I APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH. THANKS.

MELISSA (prairie_girl_64)

Badly damaged and unrepairable so I thought. My God, why me? Did I deserve this all over again? My Oh My, what next? If I was playing any type of sport that had three periods or quarters or even that baseball thing with innings in it, I was done and out for sure. I felt all used up, and ready for the trash heap. My only balm was Melanie, Jenn was not available, now, and I wished that she was.

I had to wonder as I lay in my hospital bed listening to the sounds of my beeping IV lines: When would this nightmare be over, and when would I be back at home and enjoying my own bed? Fuck! I was getting angry. I began to try and recall in my own head what made Jason flip out on me. I could not even get a clue, let alone an inclination as to what might have set him off. I guess that it was one of those puzzles that I would never complete.

Several weeks past, that drew into a month when I was paid a visit by Crown Prosecutor Angela. She stood about 5 feet 4, slim and attractive. She had wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. She introduced herself to me and then she started asking me all sorts of questions. No doubt about it, she is a real go getter.

"Mellissa, do you remember what happened to you that night? We are trying to get some indication as to what you remember so we can proceed with the charges we have laid against Jason."

All I could do was scrunch up my face and nod a defiant smile. I said,
"Angela, I wish that I could remember what happened, but you already know what I already told the police when they visited me plus what Melanie mentioned to them when they interviewed her."

Angela could only nod and then began to lay out what they were about to do. "Mellissa, I represent the Crown that will proceed to prosecute your former boyfriend, Jason. He is being charged with assault, attempted murder as well as rape. We are also charging him with DUI, Felonious assault on a police officer. We have him for lewd conduct as well."

"When is the trial?

"Melissa, I have my doubts at this point that you will be able to attend the trial. We would like to have you as our key witness, however, with the extent of your injuries, we do not think that will be possible."

"I want to be there. I want to see that asshole see what he did to me, that asshole wrecked me!"

Angela nodded, "I would highly doubt that you will be able to. I know the extent of the injuries to you and the 9 surgeries you have undergone."

I nodded and tears began to flow. I was in so much pain and I was really angry to boot. I wanted to be there in the court room when that asshole Jason got sentenced. If there was a death penalty, I would be the one to throw the switch with no remorse. They say that "HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED..." well I was that woman scorned and I was getting angrier and pissed off by the moment.

_-_-_-

It was now late July of 1993, I was in no real condition to even move about as both my legs were in traction and both my arms were in slings across my chest. I felt like I was in a straight jacket. But the doctors were doing their best to heal me. For that I am grateful, but at the time, I was bored with nothing to do. If I could, I would have studied, but I couldn't hold a book worth a damn, and even if I could, I couldn't turn the pages.

I had an eye patch on my right eye and my nose was broken. I was later told that I had both my arms; jaw; nose, legs, collar bones, elbows broken, and my groin were seriously damaged. My arms and legs were pinned by braces and my collar bones were reset. My nose underwent surgery as did my ribs and my groin. I was castrated. That never bothered me in the least; in fact, it was a blessing, in a way. You see, the years of HRT basically shrank my penis to virtually nothing.

I had been in hospital almost a full year and I was feeling depressed. When was this going to end? Melanie visited every other day. Sheila, my therapist dropped by when she could and we talked about me. Angela dropped by every other week to obtain more information from me, trying to see if there was anything I could remember. That was very little. I felt so lost. I felt so angry. I was seriously depressed and I think everyone knew it as well.

In Late September, 11 month almost to the day that I entered the hospital, I was released and sent over to rehab. My first thoughts were, 'Oh joy, just how long is I going to be here. What was next in the hell for me?' I still had the pins in my legs and my arms. So I was getting used to the realization of being wheeled around everywhere. NOT!!!!!!. How I missed my independence. How I missed my freedom.

I guess if there was a light in this darkness it was that I was out of hospital and saw trees and grass, again. The fresh air was wonderful, oh, how I missed them! That lasted about 45 minutes. At least when I was checked into the rehab facility, I had a window to see out of. I shared a room with a woman by the name of Beverley. She had been in a car accident and was now a quad. We spent a lot of time chatting and then eventually shared our 4 hour rehab time downstairs.

My physiotherapists were named Theresa, Vicki, and Mark. I immediately flipped out that I had a male as my physiotherapist. I lost it and he was sent packing. He was replaced by a young Pt with the name of Cassandra. At the time, I simply could not bear to think about a man getting that close to me, and pretty much, still am.

Now Theresa, was short and heavy set, about 5 foot 2. Vikki was tall at 5 feet 8, while Canada was in between then at 5 feet 4. I was well received and worked my ass off to get back my strength. They worked my arms first. They were the easiest I guess. And then came my legs. That was another major issue all into its own. I still had the legs pinned and braced. I kinda walked like a penguin. I sometimes laughed at the jokes that were made.

My spirits seemed to gain momentum; however, I did have serious bouts of depression. Those would last for days. I often thought that I would be better off dead. Sheila and Melanie were my angels that kept me afloat. Melanie would visit me, Jenn often called me at the rehab and we would talk for hours. She always cared for me. For that I was grateful. They all kept me from entering into a suicidal depression with their love.

Angela stopped by one cold November morning at about 11. It snowed the night before and there was a lot of snow outside. I do not think I can remember seeing so much snow in years. She walked into my room with her dark black winter coat and gloves on and she greeted me.

Angela: "Good morning Mellissa, How are you doing? I have been keeping up with your progress here and I must say I am impressed. However, I am a bit worried though that you are going a bit too fast and not allowing yourself to heal properly."

Me: "Hi Angela, I know that you may be worried and I definitely appreciate your concern. I have to do this. I have to try and fight this. I am so alone, I am so fucking mad. I want to see that prick get what he deserves. I want to walk out of here and see his face when I enter that court room. I am sure that you can understand why I must do this."

Angela: "Why must you torture yourself?"

Me: "Can you not see what I have to do? You do not know me that well. With what I have had to fucking go through. I have to get out of here."

She nodded with a scowl on her face, "I do understand Mellissa, Trust me, I do understand. I also think you need to allow yourself to heal and make yourself better and let these wonderful physiotherapists assist you in that healing. I for one can not imagine what you have been through. I do, however, know that you are human and are fallible."

Me: "THAT, I know."

Angela: "Please, take your time, Mellissa! We are going to proceed with Jason's trial. I have petitioned the court to make sure that you stay away."

I was seeing red, blood red when she said that. I got really angry. I said. "WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT BASTARD DAMN NEAR KILLED ME!! Now, I AM ORDERED TO STAY THE HELL AWAY!! FUCK THIS NOISE, ANGELA!! I WILL BE THERE!! IT JUST GIVES ME EVEN MORE INCENTIVE TO BE THERE!! FUCK! WHAY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Angela: "We feel that it would hurt the case if you were there because you are so angry. You are a victim here, Mellissa. We have to protect you. We need to be able to keep you safe. This is the best place for you and you need to be here."

I was really steamed, "Fuck, Angela, where the hell do you get off telling me what I can and cannot do and what is best for me? I will tell you this, and only this. You have no fucking clue what I went through, growing up, you have no idea what I went through growing up on the streets. I have seen death, there. And I have almost killed myself because of the shit that I had to deal with, with my family. I am not some little child that you can ground, and keep me away. If I have to, I will get to the trial of that son of a bitch. That is what I intend to do."

Angela: "I hope that you do not end up showing up. I can tell you this, that if you do, I will personally have you arrested for obstruction. I will have no choice. Mellissa, I want him to pay as much as you do, I have spent literally hundreds of hours on this and I for one will not have it jeopardized. Do we understand one another?"

I only nodded my head. I knew that she knew I was upset and that I was angry. I was pissed. Angry doesn't measure in the scheme of things right now. All I could do was silently say 'fuck'.

Angela left and I was left to ponder my decisions here. I wondered how long I was going to have to endure this hell. I wondered if I was ever going to be able to walk again. I wondered if my life would ever be the same. I wondered why I hadn't taken my life when I was younger, I definitely wouldn't have to deal with the shit and abuse on a continual basis. I sighed and wondered if it was going to be worth it.

I had no choice but to deal with what was in front of me. I was going to get out of here. Angela's talk helped. I decided that Hell hath no fury like this woman scorned... I was going to damn well make sure that hell hath no fury on that son of a bitch Jason. I was more fired up now than I had ever been. Time would tell if I was doomed here or doomed on the outside. Here I was a prisoner, outside, I had a fighting chance. I guess only time would tell.......

While lying in my hospital bed, contemplating my overall existence in the world. My depression worsened over the next few weeks. Why had I been so brutally attacked by Jason? Were we not friends? How would the attack affect my M.S. or epilepsy?

Then my world collapsed completely when I was told that I was almost paralyzed from the brutal attack that I had endured. Brutally assaulted I was. My God! what could possible happen too me now for crying out loud.? I cried for a days after that news. I sank deeper into my self imposed depression. I have never in my life felt so worthless and alone as I have in my entire life. Well; maybe while being assaulted and raped at home.

I can recall the Thursday morning at 9:50 A.H. when this elderly gentleman arrived at my door and asked, "Are you Melissa?"

I calmly replied "Yes I am."

He entered the room, "Hello, I am Grant Mc Vie."

Mr. McVie was tall and fairly robust. At slightly over 6 feet and about 255 he had graying hair at the temples and wore glasses that did no justice to his face what so ever. After the brief introductions and pleasantries out of the way, Grant asked, Can you recall the evening when you were attacked?"

I guess I should mention the fact he was representing my ex Jason.

"All that I remember is that I let Jason in and that he attacked Me. "

"My client, Jason is pleading not guilty. He claims that you deceived him for the entire time we were dating. He claims that it was an accidental beating that went too far."

I was visibly shaken at that stupid comment and statement. I damned well knew that, that asshole Jason knew exactly who I was from the very beginning. I literally started swearing at Grant and he eventually left, after the nurse came in and asked him to leave.

I asked the nurse to call the doctor as I was starting to have some severe pains in my chest. I passed out.

()(()()

I awoke three days later. The doctor that examined me told me, "The pains in your chest were from stress, and we have placed you on high sedation."

I told him, "I feel like my chest is about to explode."

They had placed a call the crown and that she was informed of the visit by Mr. Mc Vie.

&&&&&&&

Again I lay in complete confusion and pain. I continued to be depressed and wished in my dreams that I wanted to die. I was physically broken, emotionally exhausted. At the time, I saw no hope for me, at all.

Sheila my therapist visited for many days and weeks after that horrible event with that defense attorney. I started to have a bit of hope that I was going to make this work for me. I slowly began to contemplate my life after the hospital stay. I was reinvigorated when I was told that Jason's trial was to start in 5 months. I swore that I would be physically ready, or as much as I could be when that asshole went on trial. I started to envision him getting the death penalty. (Canada abolished the death penalty in the late 1960's).

I started to get a feeling of hope rather than despair. I knew I had some hope of being there from all indications. I was starting to heal and some of my bandages were removed. I was still heavily casted and braced on my legs and arms and heavily bandaged around my groin and ribs. I still wore the eye patch on my right eye. I still had extensive bruising on my jaw and neck. I hated the look. I looked like something out of a horror movie. Oh Yeah, my own horror movie, upon which I was the main player as well as victim.

The months passed by quickly and I slowly gained enough strength to be moved around again and back to physio. God, I hated that place. However I began to realize that I needed the assistance. Soon, the month of the trial approached and well, I guess that I had a number of questions I needed to answer.

One; Was I ready for this? Two; Could I handle being in the same room as Jason, my attacker? Three; Would I be able to handle the constant questions from Mr. Mc Vie? Four: How would the jury deliver its verdict? Five: What state would I be in when it started and when it was all over? Believe me I had thousands of questions, I just wish that I had all the answers too them all. They would be answered soon enough. If not all of, them some of them...............

The days passed as well as my therapy. On a bleak Tuesday morning at 10 am I was unceremoniously startled in my room by Mr. McVeigh. I particularly did not like the man as he was defending the asshole that put me in this position. Needless to say I was not a happy camper.

He had a smirk that was wide like the Grand Canyon . Well maybe not that wide. But close. He approached me as usual said, "Good Morning Mellissa"

My reply somewhat sarcastic was, "Morning."

He launched into asking me all sorts of questions upon which I had already answered as much as I could at his first meeting with me, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Mr. McVeigh, I told you all I could tell you as I was kind of unconscious when I was taken to the hospital after that asshole beat the shit out of me."

"Do you know what prompted Jason to do this too you?"

"Ask him."

"Can you tell me anymore than what you have already mentioned to me?"

"Also, why the hell are you harassing me over this as I am sure that the crown has already presented its case, or is about too."

His facial expressions wavered about then he spoke, "Mellissa, You know that deep down in your heart and soul that you deserved every bit of what happened to you? Right? You deceived Jason from the beginning of your relationship? What did you expect to happen? Come on quit playing semantics here. He will get off and just admit that you were wrong and let this go? He will not spend a day in jail."

I was thinking 'fuck off asshole, he will if I have my way with this.' "Please leave."

I thought nothing of it in the way I told him to leave either. I pushed my call button which I had under my blanket and the nurse arrived a short time later and asked, "Is everything was alright"

I nodded my head in the negative and told the slime to leave. He smirked and left with his briefcase in hand.

*************

That afternoon, Angela arrived and was waiting in my room when I return from my physio treatment. I can say that was the highlight of each and every day in rehab. Having her interrupt my therapy sessions was not something that I enjoyed at all. I wanted for her to come when I was in my room, but no, the asshole made a point of coming during the sessions.

I spent 90 minutes in the pool. And then exercises to get my strength back so I could learn how to walk. I endured a lot of pain while I was there, but it was well worth it. Anyhow, Angela greeted me with a smile and small hug that was light. I smiled somewhat and said, "Good afternoon Angela."

She replied, "Hi Mellissa; How are you feeling?"

My reply was, "OK, somewhat, I am sore and a bit annoyed with that asshole defense attorney of Jason's."

She smiled and said, "Yes, I was called at noon and told that he stopped by and that you were not too receptive to him."

I nodded and replied, "Damn right I was not receptive to him; he is a prick just like Jason, why should I be nice to pricks like him? He was a smug arrogant asshole. He told me that Jason will never spend a day in jail. That I deceived him from the get go. I did not deceive anyone and especially him as we talked a lot before we even were involved. Shit Angela, it was Jenn and her friends that set me up with him years ago. He bloody well knew from the get go who I was."

She nodded and said, "Yes, I know Mellissa. Things are slowly coming to light with him and people are stepping up to the forefront here. Trust me he will spend time in jail, he has a long list of charges he will not be able to escape from."

I slowly nodded my head in agreement. I then told her, "Angela, I want to testify and give a statement when this all over."

She looked shocked and quietly stated, "Mellissa, I will not advise that at this point, however, if there is a opportunity here, then I can call you for the statement, we have all the photo's and evidence collected from him. Statements are in the can and police reports are written and all the "T's" and "I's" are properly crossed and dotted. Not to worry. Thing will hopefully go the way they should in this case."

I really could not say much after that as it went by so quick. Before I knew it I was ready to sleep and she said her goodbye's and left. I was left to wonder my own existence once again. If there was a day when I thought this shit would end with me, I thought back to those days at home and the attempted suicides that failed me. It was just another prime example of me being in hell again.

Fuck! I hate my life! All those horrible memories would rise again and really mess with me. This last go really began to wear me down. I really began to think that it would have been better to be dead. My existence and sanity was put to the test again and again. I really began to feel unwanted and useless again. I have my thoughts on that slime bag McVeigh. Some of which I have expressed here and believe me as things go forward, my voice on this asshole gets very strong.

I am not leaving Angela alone in my thoughts either, she pulled some pretty shady shit with things on me and I was not impressed. I had a lot of nasty words to her as things went on. I also expressed my discord to the whole trial process as I felt I was going to be victimized further. And in essence, I was. I really wish I was dead, and then this fucking nightmare would be over. My spirit was once again lost as I thought for a brief shinning moment I was making some progress. Hell, why is life a bitch? All would culminate at the trial and that was not pretty and it definitely was not pleasant for me. Oh well..............

NOTE: This chapter is very disturbing to me and it may to be the reader as most of my life is being dredged up in somewhat detail and some of it very graphic. Caution is advised.

============

The new day approached with a sense of dread as I entered the courtroom. I did not know what to expect, other than more of the crap that being spewed by McVeigh and Jason. The bleak day outside did not brighten my mood. The biter cold winter clouds seemed to fit the day. This day I knew for some reason was going to be hell on earth. I wondered if I would be able to make it.

I was very uncertain as I entered the ornate oak doors to court room 15. The courtroom seemed endless as I entered, there were a lot of people already present. This added more anxiety and dread as I walked in. Yes, I was finally cleared to walk again. But as much as I wanted to celebrate, I couldn't until after the trial, if even then. I felt the feeling one gets when you are on death row and walking that "green mile". I was nervous and scared. There was no other way to describe how I felt.

I noticed that Angela was sitting down, going over her notes at the table, while Mr. McVeigh at his doing the same exact thing at his. There was a hush over the room as I took my steps towards the table. I sat and let a soft sigh out. After yesterday's revelation and graphic details of my assault and rape by Melanie, it had a strong effect on me, too. I think it also brought home to Angela and those in the court room that day the harsh reality and sheer brutality of the abuse that Jason inflicted upon me in that short span of time.

The quiet was deafening. Then as if on cue, the court became silent as the bailiff called the court in session. Enter the impressively suave Judge Williams; he took his usual seat up on high and slanted down his bifocals as he called the court in session. He asked Mr. McVeigh, "Would you like to make a statement at this time?"

Mr. McVeigh: "No, your honor."

Judge: Does the prosecution wish to make a statement at this time?"

Angela: "Yes your honor."

Judge: "You may proceed."

Angela: "I would like to call to the stand Melissa N."

I stood and walked with a slow gait to the witness stand. (I have to mention here that Jason was not in the court room this day. He was scheduled for a psyche evaluation.) After I was sworn in, Angela began her questioning.

A: "Melissa, can you please tell us about your life and about your eventual association with Jason?"

Me: "My home life was hell, I was adopted at 4 and my life of torture began shortly there after, I was abused and raped repeatedly by my dad nightly and whipped by either a belt or a bridle. I was sometimes whipped with a cinch off the saddle. Or even the reigns. I was often too bloody or passed out after the beatings. I was sent to school and not to tell a soul about what went on at home. I guess my earliest memories were when I was 6 when I was literally dragged from the house by my hair and back of my shirt yelling and screaming to the barn and hung on the hooks there and whipped till I could not stand it and then passed out in release. I woke up and then I was told I had 30 minutes to crawl to the house and if I did not make it then oh well. Sissy you are never got to make it and would I'd be locked in the barn all night.

"A: "Did you make it back?"

Me: "Needless to say, I never made it to the house. These events continued daily and nightly as well. I was also given female hormones as well and told that I was to be a girl if I wanted to dress like one, then I was to be treated like one."

A: "What did your father have to say to you the next day?"

Me: "I was told by my "father" that I had to follow his rules or pay the price. I can say I paid that price a lot. I also paid the penalty by not having a loving and supportive "mother".

A: "What did she do, or not do?"

Me: "She ignored the situation and refused to admit to me or help me against my "father."

A: "What did you do about thee abuse?"

Me: "I endured their abuse till my idiotic brother arrived a few years later. As I grew up, they doted on him, I became the slave and the ignored child then I started to weep.

A: "Do you need a break?"

Me; "No, The abuse continued till I left at 15. My "brother" and my "father" continued to abuse me at night, with repeated rapes and abuse and they got a thrill from it. I continued to feminize with my breasts growing and my skin get soft. I was not stupid to realize what was happening to my body. I just let it happen, because I knew if I fought it, it would get worse."

A: "Are you alright Melissa?" Angela asked me.

Me: I replied, "I have to get this off my chest."

Me: "The holidays were the worse for me, as I was never allowed to participate with the family and never received presents nor cake or dinner. The rest of the family celebrated any holiday. It became too much for me that over the course of years I attempted to commit suicide and almost succeeded on a few of those occasions. I only wished I had not lived. I wished for my life to end. I wished that I had loving parents. I wondered why I was so different and why I could not have a family. I wanted to die. I ended up in a psyche ward for many months and was just left there."

A: "What did they tell the staff at the clinic?"

Me: "I was told that I was crazy and yet my "parents" lied to the staff and the doctors. They said that I was mentally unstable, never mentioning the abuse. How could they? I thought they loved me. I know now that they did not. My "father" continued to abuse me nightly sometimes three or four times. I was told to dress like there maid and a girl at home. I was humiliated and they enjoyed it. I wanted to die so much."

A: "Tell us about one of the suicide attempts."

Me: "There was a time where I took my "father's" shotgun off the rack and tried to blow my head off. That failed. I considered myself a failure. I was out of options, I had no support, and I failed. I wish I was never born. I wished I was dead. I guess that now that I look back, I made a choice, however what kind of choice did I make really? "A life of continued abuse over the years after I left home."

A: "Please continue."

Me: "There were times where I was beaten for the sure enjoyment of it to them. I was also raped in the same way. I had to perform oral sex and then have them fuck me up the ass and then get me to clean them off with my mouth. If I did not, I was whipped by a strap or punched in the stomach. I was repeatedly abused and raped. How much should a person deserve? None as I look back now. However then, it was a daily and nightly occurrence and my "mother" ignored my cries for help."

A: And that is why you ran away?"

Me: "Eventually I decided to leave after 9 years of rape and beatings. What Jason did to me, was minor to what my bastard folks did to me over the nine years of hell I lived at home."

A: Is there anything that you would have Jason do differently?"

Me: "I wish that Jason had killed me then, so I would not have to endure this torture session in court and bare my soul to all here. This is so unfair, to me that I cannot take this anymore!"

A; "Your honor I request a recess so that my client can compose
herself."

Judge Williams: "Court is in recess for 1 hour, court adjourned," he left the bench and disappeared.

I was so shaky that I had to have some assistance when I left the stand. I looked at McVeigh and he was visibly shaken. I bared my soul and I was not even on the stand 50 minutes. The jury looked stunned as Angela later told me after I gained some sort of composure. I had to try to at least maintain some sort of semblance of sanity with myself and not cracking.

All that I knew was that was going to be very hard to do. As I re-entered the courtroom to resume the testimony of my life up to that point and to my relationship with Jason and those I tried to surround myself with, I became faint and I was not exactly sure if I could carry on. I tried as I might to will any strength towards that goal. Goodness sake I needed something in order to do that.

The pressure was extreme as I had just bared my soul to the court and to those that never met me. I wondered what they were thinking. That I wish I knew and I guess never would. I sat quietly with Angela till the court resumed. Then it happened, Judge Williams returned and the court was again in session. I again took the stand.

A: "Are you willing to proceed, Melissa?" Angela asked me.

Me: "Yes I think so," I whispered my reply barely audible.

A: "Can you please continue where you left off if you can, there is no pressures here at all and please let us know if you need a second to compose yourself."

Me: "I will, thank you Angela and your Honor." I began; "After putting up with 9 years of solid abuse by being raped and beaten, I decided to leave, it was after my 15th birthday. I had just been repeatedly raped by my "father" and "brother". That was my 15th birthday present. Some present. I was so angry and annoyed not with them but myself. I wanted to kill myself or leave. Those were my options. It was about 2:A.M., I think. So, I made sure I had a few items of clothes with me. I also had what I chose to wear, which was not a lot. I opened the window and tossed my knapsack out, and then I waited to hear any noise that I may have caused them to awaken. I knew if there had been noise I would surely die right then and there. Noting that they never woke up, I jumped about 6 feet or so maybe more to the ground and gathered my knapsack and made for the trees and then I waited to see if any lights came on in the house. Noting that there were
none, I set out for the highway, about 8 miles or so away. It took me a long time to get to the highway and I started hitchhiking towards the city. A while later, a trucker picked me up and brought me to the city. I was left near a phone and I called my friend Jenn. I knew Jenn from 4H, I considered her my friend and confidant. I told her everything when she picked me up. I stayed at her place and after some harrowing nightmares and troubles and being scared, I left. I traveled and survived on the streets. Some violent and some not so. I stayed doing what I knew best and became a prostitute and survived as best I could. I was on the road for over a year and half and decided enough was enough after I saw some street friends gunned down. I came back to Jenn and we spent a lot of time talking and she introduced me to her friends, one of which was Jason. He knew from the start, who I was as I told him from the get go. I never held anything back."

A: "Was this before the attack?"

Me: "Yes. I then reacquainted myself with him a while later and we started dating. I never expected what happened to me. I never knew he would be capable of that violence. I guess maybe it was too good to be true, that there was a guy that was interested in treating me with respect and not exploiting me. I was so fucking wrong on all accounts," I sighed and tears started down my cheeks in a steady stream. I then said, "I wish he would have killed me that night in October, because I cannot deal with this anymore today." Then I turned to the Judge, "Your honor, can I stop please? This hurts way too much."

Judge: "Can you continue with a bit more? If you can we will wait till you are ready if you wish we can stop."

Me: I answered, "I guess I can go on, and there is not much left to tell." I was given tissues and whipped them away.

"When Jason and I decided to go for supper, we had dated since April. I was excited to go out on the town with him. I had my nails done hair done, the works and I was ready. I asked Melanie to pop up for coffee so we could chat. She left and then the last thing I remember is in the hospital. My body is so fucked up, that I know I will never be able to recognize myself anymore."

A: What do you feel about what Jason did?"

Me: "Jason had no right to do what he did, what gave him that right? He is just like my Asshole "father" and 'brother", they get away with this shit. I am sorry your honor, this just fucking sucks like shit here. Here he is supposed to be on trial and I feel like I am on the gallows here. Fuck! I am pissed" At that point I lost it and passed out.

When I woke I was back in the hospital. I had an IV tube in my arm and I was hooked up to a heart monitor. I was disorientated and very confused. I began crying. I wondered if I might be dead. Then the thoughts struck me, no if I was dead, I would not have a stupid IV in my arm. Fuck! Why does this have to continue? If there was any justice, please let me die. I was later told that when I fell I went right off the stand and hit my body hard on the marble floor and I hit my head on the railings that surrounded the walls of the courtroom. Backwards, I was told.

Oh well, I wish it was harder and I died. Fuck I hate life now, and why me? Fuck that prick Jason. That asshole gets to be away while I have to tried and almost felt like I was convicted of a crime...being a victim is the crime and everyone found me guilty....fuck. I hate life now.

Angela stopped by and told me that it was going to be OK. She said that things would work out and that Jason's lawyer would be only asking some specifics about the night in question with Jason in the court room. I was not to be on the stand till the following week. She was going to get a continuance till I was ready to go back. I thanked her. She said, I am sorry for putting you on the stand for that long. I felt that the trauma would be too great for you. I wish that I could take it back and not have you on the stand."

I told her, "It's not your fault. I managed, not well, but managed."

She said, "McVeigh was so stunned that he had a few tears when he left the court that afternoon. The jury was shocked and utterly befuddled over my testimony, but I could not read them at all."

I just nodded and she left as I fell asleep.

I guess hell is what I have to relive. I wondered how it was going to turn out. I wondered why it was all worth it. I wondered why and if that asshole would get what he deserved. I wondered if my life was actually worth it to go on. I cried for days over that. I ended up 4 days later back at rehab to continue my physical therapy. I would sure know in 4 days what that asshole McVeigh had to say to me and the interrogation I was going to put under with that fucking asshole prick Jason sitting smug faced beside him. Time was not on my side, nor my thoughts and feelings of dread...........

The day arrived of which I dreaded the most. The announcement of the trial, I was nervous as well as relieved at the same time. I was wondering what would the verdict be, to what in the hell should I wear when I go. I thought of myself as a woman, and still do. The fact that I was born with a penis instead of a vagina, did not faze me in the least. True, I had seen Jenn a few times, so I know what the difference between a man and a woman is, but I was NEVER jealous of her vagina. To me, it was simply more evidence that my life was hell on Earth.

All the parities gathered in a fairly large, ornate court room of colonial architecture design. The ornate columns and lights were majestic. It looked more as if it was meant for a ball room, or some place in a palace, or cathedral than a court room. The center of the room was where the judge would sit high. The jury box was to the left and the defense table was below that. The crowns table was to the right of the judge's desk at old oak tables.

Tuesday was the start of the trial. This thing took almost 29 months to get to this point. I had already undergone my stint in hospital and most of my rehabilitation. But, I still had some time to undergo to be cleared. I had made a lot of progress on the physical side. Mentally, that was a different issue altogether. You see, I daydreamed that the asshole would die. I wished he would be put to death. THAT would be justice to me. He tortured me in life and now in my daydreams as well. I so wanted him dead. If we had the death penalty here I would have been so glad to have pulled the handle on the noose.

I spent almost 15 months in ICU, then in a regular room and then a significant amount of time in rehab and I was not completely done, yet. Oh, I wanted to get out of there and quick. All the time I was in the hospital and rehab the son of a bitch was trying to plea bargain down to aggravated assault. He actually was pleading not guilty for damn near killing me.

If I could have, I would have switched bodies with that asshole! Let HIM suffer instead of ME!

I knew he had a laundry list of other charges against him. Some of these were; DUI, Assault on a police officer. Assault on a bar patron, reckless driving, undo care and attention. Along with this were the ones he had been charged with on me; Assault, attempted murder, causing bodily harm as well as rape. This asshole really fucked up me life and he was really going to fuck it up even more with his insane attempts to get off. Let me just say that I was absolutely pissed off and leave it at that.

At 9:3:A.M. on that Tuesday, it began. The courtroom was basically quiet, even though there were the usual people there. The bailiff, the court stenographer, and the jury members (12.... 8 men and 4 women). I felt as if it was stacked against me. There were a few others in the court room as well. A few people I recognized from the rehab and hospital, and Jenn and Melanie, too. That was a comfort too me that they were there.

The Bailiff told us all to rise and we did. He announced the Judge, the Honorable Judge Williams. Judge Williams was a tall statuesque gentleman; He stood well over 6 feet and had graying black hair and brown eyes. He did not look fat at all. In fact I thought he looked very fit under his robe. He had bifocal glasses attached to a cord around his neck. Angela sat with me at the Crowns Desk and of course Mr. McVeigh and Jason were across the aisle. I never looked at him and I did know that he was looking at me. His furtive glances were not unseen by those in the room.

I did make it to the trial and I was determined to stick it out. I was in a wheelchair, still heavily bandaged and bruised. The nurses were there for my benefit. All of this support for me was not lost on the Judge, or the jury. And I could see that Jason and his asshole attorney were taking my support into account as well.

The trial was to last 4 months, somewhat long by my tastes. However, Jason had a lot to answer for. They would deal with the most serious of the charges against him first. Those against me were the most serious. I absolutely felt ill sitting near that prick. If I had my way I would have loved to have castrated him. I kept thinking that he will get his and be a bitch in jail. And that placed a smile on my face and a slight giggle.

I had heard about what happened in prison to such pretty boys as Jason was, and how some convicts would rape the newbie's and keeps a weak one as their personal bitch to rape and as their slave. While Jason might not stay a jailhouse whore, his stay would at least give him an idea of what he put me through, and possibly contract some disease from unprotected sex.

Judge Williams asked for opening statements upon which Mr. McVeigh stood and began his remarks.

McVeigh: 'Thank you, your honor. My client as you see him sitting to my left is an innocent individual. The charges before the court are absolutely fabricated. The real victim here is Jason. He was unwillingly duped by the alleged victim in this situation. Jason, who is an upstanding member of his family and has not, posed any issues in the past. He was knowingly blindsided and duped by Melissa. Jason believes he was upset by the way he was duped and lied to by her and he had every right to respond to the lies and deception perpetrated by Melissa. We shall show with reasonable doubt that Jason is innocent of all these charges against him. Jason has been wronged and the evidence shall support our claims as such. The evidence is clear your honor that with the testimony of the witnesses we have my client will be found not guilty and this whole matter will be closed"

I kept my cool while that idiot defense lawyer painted Jason as a model citizen. Inside I was fuming; I was ready to explode on the asshole. Inside I was crying for justice to be done. Was I going to be able to take this all over again? I really doubted my presence there in this court room, now. Was this a huge mistake? Was this what I wanted? I knew damn well that it was right and I had made it so far without too much difficulty. I knew that I had to have some justice. I wanted too make sure that Jason saw me, the injuries he had caused. Innocent my ass. There was no way he was innocent. There was way too much stacked against him. He was not going to get off that lightly. I thought so at that time anyhow.

Angela then stood and addressed the court.

Angela: "Thanks your Honor. What the evidence will show is a definitive proof that the defendant (Jason) knew unequivocally who my client is and that the heinous act placed upon her was unjust. The evidence will also show this act was barbaric in nature; the scars will linger and remain for many years. We will also show the photo's of the victim here and how this has had a detrimental impact on her care and possible future. We will also prove with a certainty that Jason knew who he was with. This was mentioned by statements made after her beatings and also included in statements from Jason himself. This is a crime of unspeakable brutality and hatred for another human being. We have witnesses your honor that will showcase Jason's involvement with Melissa dating back a few years. We will also show that the real victim here is Melissa and that she should be free from the problems of which Jason has caused her. We will introduce evidence that will shed
light on an extraordinary woman who beat all odds and managed to set herself on the right path. The evidence will also prove that Jason maliciously set about to hurt Melissa that night in October 1992. "

I felt somewhat relieved that Angela was on my side here. Inside I was sick that Jason had a chance of getting away with what he did too me. Was there justice? I knew one thing for sure and certain, it was that I was about to find out. I began to feel really tired, and after sitting listening through the opening statements I was lead out of the courtroom and back to my room at the rehab center. I was not present during the rest of the opening evidence for the rest of the week as I had ongoing treatments.

Angela stopped by on the following Friday after 5:P.M... When I had returned to my room after a go in the parallel bars, you see, they were trying to get me back walking. She greeted me with a slight hug. She told me," McVeigh had brought in to discredit me and made Jason the innocent one in all this."

I asked her, "Does that mean that I have to appear and give my side of the story?"

Angela said, "No, not necessarily, if it does, it will come later. McVeigh has to defend his client and will introduce all his evidence. We will have that opportunity later."

I was as naive as to the court system here, sheesh. I was so dumb. Street Smart justice I could understand all to well. Someone wronged you on the street, simple justice, beat the hell out of them and move on. There were no judges or juries nor lawyers involved. You saw something wrong; you took action, end of discussion. I had to put my faith in Angela's ability to defend me and make that asshole pay. I can look back at this experience and honestly say that justice was never dealt the way it should have been dealt.

I never made it for the next few weeks of the trial as I was literally laid up with pneumonia. I kept in contact with Angela with phone calls. The defense was sure laying all the blame on me and my actions. I was degraded and humiliated as well as belittled in court and I was not even there to defend myself. I sank into a minor depression yet again and Sheila was called to guide me through that mess again.

Jenn and Melanie stopped by every other night after court and filled me in on the day's happenings. I told them I wish I was there. They told me not too worry, things were going to work out. But I had serious doubts. Being a street wise kid gives you an edge and a feeling. I felt that justice would never be served. I was pissed off, yes, you better believe it.

As I look back even now, it still angers me and pisses me off. The edge I guess would be when I was called to the stand in three weeks. McVeigh still had to present a few more witnesses and those included Jenn and Melanie. I vowed to be at the trial again comes hell or high water. I was sickened by McVeigh's attitude and complete ignorance towards me. I guess now I understand it. I knew he had to do his job, I felt he went way overboard with his depiction of me.

I sure can say that things were quite interesting during those four months of the trial. Justice or No Justice, I really felt that there was going to be a split here and I was going to have to play it out and see what transpired. I was angry and wished I had died that night then I would not have had to deal with this long hard road of rehabilitation and recovery and then again, I am glad I was.

NOTE: This is a painful account of the events of the trial I endured after the severe beating and rape. This is represents some of the thoughts and feelings I had during those times in my life. It is somewhat graphic as some of the evidence presented is disturbing and fairly gross. I caution the reader. This chapter or episode is a long one. I apologize in advance for its length.

=====
Day 46:
======

I endured a lot of trauma during the last few days of the trial. Well I have to say that I was not overly impressed by the attitudes of either neither of the defense attorney nor of Jason's testimony. I felt betrayed as well as extremely hurt. His utter denial that he knew me upset me the most. Before this hell had happened, Jason and I were friends, and I had actually planned on a special night with him. Angela and I met prior to the day's proceedings and she was quite annoyed with Jason's council. She warned me it could get nasty; well she was right on the money.

Mr. McVeigh entered into evidence letters I had wrote to Jason outlining my involvement with Jason. He also introduced very private conversations that the two of us had. I cringed as these were entered.

During Jason's testimony, he was quoted as saying, "Melissa blatantly lied to me by saying she was a total female and not a male." Jason then went to on to state about how in his conversations with me, that he had had and the intimacy we had and that what led up to that night in question was that I deserved it and that I was asking for it.

I was absolutely flabbergasted and getting pissed off royally. Jason told the court that he obtained the information from me while he taped the conversations and had a mini cassette recorder in his jacket when we went for coffee.

I got really pissed and I jumped up and stated quite loudly, "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME!"

The Judge admonished me and Angela quite severely. I cried privacy rights quietly to her and she just shrugged silently. And wrote, 'We will deal with that when you are on the stand.'

Mr. McVeigh introduced all the taped conversations we had had. And then he pointed to the night in question. Jason was quite arrogant and stated that yes he went out to drink with a few of his work buddies and he also stated that he was not really sure why we were going to dinner.

I jumped up a second time and shouted, "YOU CERTAINLY KNEW YOU PRICK!"

Again I was admonished. Fuck! I hated this inquisition. Jason so smug and cocky just smiled and looked at me as if to say 'I have you now and I am going to get off.'

I thought to myself, 'Not a hope in hell. You asshole!'

Angela literally had to try and keep me under control. It was hard. I so wanted to get up and trounce that asshole Jason and his attorney McVeigh that Angela had to take control of my motorized wheelchair. If she hadn't, I'd have run over BOTH of them.

After several grueling hours of listening to Jason's cocky account of my life which were not pleasant, court was dismissed for the day. I have to mention here that all of my dirty little secrets were dredged up with my home life in gruesome detail. Those details also included my trips to the hospital and suicide attempts as well my time on the streets, and the hell that I went through on that farm.

Mr. McVeigh exploited them to no end while Jason was on the stand and in some quite detail as I had told them all to Jason. I went into that with a 'no secrets' attitude with him. And he bloody well knew what my life was and he exploited it to know end. I vowed to get my revenge. Jason was a slime ball and he proved it in the last few hours. I also wanted to get some sort of revenge on that asshole attorney, but I knew not how.

I was not present for a lot of his testimony due to my injuries and my pneumonia I had had. I can only imagine what went on during those times that I was not there. I can truly say that after it was over and done with, and many years after obtaining the documents under the information act, and my own journals of the trial, that I am still appalled. I think of this as a rehash of all the abuse and then some.

I was raked over the coals further by that asshole. I know that Jason's account was bullshit. I knew the truth. I was also aware that he deceived, and lied to me as well. In fact, worse than I had originally thought possible. Jason was on the stand for 11 days. Yes Angela did cross examine him. Yes, McVeigh crossed again to verify things. I would get my chance the following afternoon.

I vowed to get my revenge on that prick and the way I chose to do that would not be nice. The photo's of my rape and beating were introduced and shown to the judge and the jury. Angela said to me later that there were grimaces and shock at the damage that was to me.

======
Day 47:
======

That morning seemed to pass quickly. Melanie was called to the stand and asked questions by Angela. Melanie recounted the night in question, "After an afternoon of chat and coffee with Melissa, I watched her get dressed and talked about her night with Jason. I could tell that the two of them seemed to be infatuated with each other. I knew that they had spent a lot of time and were looking forward to this night on the town. She looked nice (Melissa), she wore a very nice black dress and heels and her hair was done up in a really pretty way, and

her long red hair that she has complimented the dress."

Angela: "Tell us about the attack,"

Melanie: "I heard shouting close to 8:30, I think, and then I heard a crash. I went upstairs and I saw that Melissa had fallen against the table. Jason was on top of her and was punching her in the face and chest. Her dress had a huge tear near her breasts."

Angela: "What did you do?"

Melanie: "I had my portable phone with me, so I called 911 and told the operator that a domestic disturbance was in place above my place. I was told that an ambulance was on its way, I was told to stay on the line. I then saw Jason literally kick Melissa in the rib cage and then the groin area at least a dozen times. The brutality of those kicks was unreal; I knew that there must be a fuelled rage there. I was scared for her and I also knew that I could make it worse for her and even myself if I got involved. Those kicks and punches were brutal and absolutely violent."

Angela: Did Melissa try to do anything?"

Melanie: "She tried to cover herself up with her hands, which were doing no good to protect her."

I was cringing as the account was being told and I was also crying. This was the first time I had heard of the account of my beating.

Melanie continued on with her testimony: "She was literally a bloody mess at this point, her dress was a shambles and her hair was a mess and bloody. She was literally covered in her own blood and next thing I knew Jason picked her up and slammed her through her kitchen wall. I heard bones crunch and snap. That happened all too quick, maybe 4 minutes had passed. There was still no sign of the EMS people or the cops. She lay in a crumpled heap on the floor and then all of a sudden Jason tore her panties and dress right off her and penetrated her violently and left a lot of blood while doing that. He then smirked and punched her more and gave a few extra kicks and then stood up and well he grinned at her and spit at her and walked past me in a stumble and a stagger and then said "HOPE THE BITCH IS DEAD, SHE DESERVES TO DIE". I was shocked and then I heard the sirens approach and then they were here, I told them where she was and I told them I was
going to follow and see where he was going. I followed him back to the bar where he was at and called the cops on the payphone near the parking lot. I was so worried about Melissa, I was shaking when the cops arrived and told me to calm down. I was so angry and crying. I wanted to know where Melissa was and if they knew what was going on. I think I gave the cops that were trying to calm me down a severe case of the jitters. All I wanted to know was how she was doing, and what I saw and what that idiot did to her and I hoped and prayed that she was not dead. I also wanted to know what hospital she was at. The cop was frustrated I think and I kept talking a mile a minute. After I found out what hospital she went too, I was going to leave, but I was detained until I gave my statement. The cops brought Jason out of the Bar, and apparently he had slugged a patron and the bar tender and then the fight moved to the parking lot. He got into it with the cops and
well that lasted about 5 seconds as they took him down and cuffed him. I so wanted to punch him and kick the crap out of him"

The judge warned Melanie to keep her opinions to herself. Melanie then continued; "I was so desperate to find out how she was doing, I wanted to go and see her, I had to call people, my boyfriend included and to get back to my apartment to lock up and let him know where I was. I was frantic, I was also angry. I had so many things to do, I needed to get there and get things done."

I was grateful to what Melanie did for me. I did not know her that well and I still consider her a friend to this day, she saved me from dyeing. Just like Jenn, Melanie was my savior. I cried and wept in court as this was being stated. I was also shaking. I glanced to Jason and he smirked and smiled. What a fuck up, what an asshole. He needed to have what happened to me happen to him and in a big way. Bubba would have a field day with his ass. I was so pissed off at what that son of a bitch Jason did to me, I was seething. I still have nightmares to this day of what he did.

Melanie continued on with her description of what Jason did to me and then McVeigh cross examined her and she repeated everything verbatim and added a few additional details of what she could to what Jason did to my body. As for injuries, Melanie knew that I definitely had broken ribs and legs as well as a broken up face and my eyes had swelled shut. She also stated that she wished she had stayed with me; however, she needed to follow Jason and call the cops to make sure that he was going to pay for what he did to me.

Like Jenn, Melanie was a godsend. I cannot thank her enough for what she did that day to save my life and those whom may have been out for the evening driving or walking. As I mentioned, he still haunts my nights as do my nightmares of what my "father" and "brother" did to me so long ago. I still shudder with those feelings and I know that they will never go away. Well maybe they will when I am buried.

In a lot of ways I wish I had died that night. I cannot help the way I feel though; up till now my life has been shit. I wonder to this point if it will get better or if it will get worse. I guess only time will tell.

The cross of Melanie and those other witnesses at the bar and the cops would occupy the remainder of the next two days, I so much wanted to be on the stand that afternoon, however, lawyer stalling and a recess delayed that opportunity for me. I would however get my chance on the stand. I was both scared and excited for this and hopefully put that asshole to rest at least as far as the court was to be. Jason's judgment in my eyes was only a few weeks away. And I hoped a life sentence for his crimes against me.

I can only hope. I fully did not believe in the power of prayer. Looking back on it, there was a bit of prayer that day and the following days. I wished I did not have to relive it over again, I knew I would have to and the subsequent cross examination of McVeigh. I would need al the strength I would need to get through this. As battered and bruised as I was, I hoped I was going to make it.

NOTE: This chapter is very disturbing to me and it may to be the reader as most of my life is being dredged up in somewhat detail and some of it very graphic. Caution is advised.

============

The new day approached with a sense of dread as I entered the courtroom. I did not know what to expect, other than more of the crap that being spewed by McVeigh and Jason. The bleak day outside did not brighten my mood. The biter cold winter clouds seemed to fit the day. This day I knew for some reason was going to be hell on earth. I wondered if I would be able to make it.

I was very uncertain as I entered the ornate oak doors to court room 15. The courtroom seemed endless as I entered, there were a lot of people already present. This added more anxiety and dread as I walked in. Yes, I was finally cleared to walk again. But as much as I wanted to celebrate, I couldn't until after the trial, if even then. I felt the feeling one gets when you are on death row and walking that "green mile". I was nervous and scared. There was no other way to describe how I felt.

I noticed that Angela was sitting down, going over her notes at the table, while Mr. McVeigh at his doing the same exact thing at his. There was a hush over the room as I took my steps towards the table. I sat and let a soft sigh out. After yesterday's revelation and graphic details of my assault and rape by Melanie, it had a strong effect on me, too. I think it also brought home to Angela and those in the court room that day the harsh reality and sheer brutality of the abuse that Jason inflicted upon me in that short span of time.

The quiet was deafening. Then as if on cue, the court became silent as the bailiff called the court in session. Enter the impressively suave Judge Williams; he took his usual seat up on high and slanted down his bifocals as he called the court in session. He asked Mr. McVeigh, "Would you like to make a statement at this time?"

Mr. McVeigh: "No, your honor."

Judge: Does the prosecution wish to make a statement at this time?"

Angela: "Yes your honor."

Judge: "You may proceed."

Angela: "I would like to call to the stand Melissa N."

I stood and walked with a slow gait to the witness stand. (I have to mention here that Jason was not in the court room this day. He was scheduled for a psyche evaluation.) After I was sworn in, Angela began her questioning.

A: "Melissa, can you please tell us about your life and about your eventual association with Jason?"

Me: "My home life was hell, I was adopted at 4 and my life of torture began shortly there after, I was abused and raped repeatedly by my dad nightly and whipped by either a belt or a bridle. I was sometimes whipped with a cinch off the saddle. Or even the reigns. I was often too bloody or passed out after the beatings. I was sent to school and not to tell a soul about what went on at home. I guess my earliest memories were when I was 6 when I was literally dragged from the house by my
hair and back of my shirt yelling and screaming to the barn and hung on the hooks there and whipped till I could not stand it and then passed out in release. I woke up and then I was told I had 30 minutes to crawl to the house and if I did not make it. Then oh well. Sissy. You never got to make it and would. I'd be locked in the barn all night.

A: "Did you make it back?"

Me: "Needless to say, I never made it to the house. These events continued daily and nightly as well. I was also given female hormones as well and told that I was to be a girl if I wanted to dress like one, then I was to be treated like one."

A: "What did your father have to say to you the next day?"

Me: "I was told by my "father" that I had to follow his rules or pay the price. I can say I paid that price a lot. I also paid the penalty by not having a loving and supportive "mother".

A: "What did she do, or not do?"

Me: "She ignored the situation and refused to admit to me or help me against my "father."

A: "What did you do about thee abuse?"

Me: "I endured their abuse till my idiotic brother arrived a few years later. As I grew up, they doted on him and I became the slave and the ignored child. I started to weep.

A: "Do you need a break?"

Me; "No, The abuse continued till I left at 15. My "brother" and my "father" continued to abuse me at night, with repeated rapes and abuse and they got a thrill from it. I continued to feminize with my breasts growing and my skin get soft. I was not stupid to realize what was happening to my body. I just let it happen, because I knew if I fought it, it would get worse."

A: "Are you alright Melissa?" Angela asked me.

I replied, "I have to get this off my chest."

Me: "The holidays were the worse for me, as I was never allowed to participate with the family and never received presents nor cake or dinner. The rest of the family celebrated any holiday. It became too much for me that over the course of years I attempted to commit suicide and almost succeeded on a few of those occasions. I only wished I had not lived. I wished for my life to end. I wished that I had loving parents. I wondered why I was so different and why I could not have a family. I wanted to die. I ended up in a psyche ward for many months and was just left there."

A: What did they tell the staff at the clinic?"

Me: "I was told that I was crazy and yet my "parents" lied to the staff and the doctors. They said that I was mentally unstable, never mentioning the abuse. How could they? I thought they loved me. I know now that they did not. My "father" continued to abuse me nightly sometimes three or four times. I was told to dress like there maid and a girl at home. I was humiliated and they enjoyed it. I wanted to die so much."

A: "Tell us about one of the suicide attempts."

Me: "There was a time where I took my "father's" shotgun off the rack and tried to blow my head off. That failed. I considered myself a failure. I was out of options, I had no support, and I failed. I wish I was never born. I wished I was dead. I guess that now that I look back, I made a choice, however what kind of choice did I make really? A life of continued abuse over the years after I left home."

A: "Please continue."

Me: "There were times where I was beaten for the sure enjoyment of it to them. I was also raped in the same way. I had to perform oral sex and then have them fuck me up the ass and then get me to clean them off with my mouth. If I did not, I was whipped by a strap or punched in the stomach. I was repeatedly abused and raped. How much should a person deserve? None as I look back now. However then, it was a daily and nightly occurrence and my "mother" ignored my cries for help."

A: And that is why you ran away?"

Me: "Eventually I decided to leave after 9 years of rape and beatings. What Jason did to me, was minor to what my bastard folks did to me over the nine years of hell I lived at home."

A: Is there anything that you would have Jason do differently?"

Me: "I wish that Jason had killed me then, so I would not have to endure this torture session in court and bare my soul to all here. This is so unfair, to me that I cannot take this anymore!"

A: "Your honor I request a recess so that my client can compose herself."

Judge Williams: "Court is in recess for 1 hour, court adjourned," he left the bench and disappeared.

I was so shaky that I had to have some assistance when I left the stand. I looked at McVeigh and he was visibly shaken. I bared my soul and I was not even on the stand 50 minutes. The jury looked stunned as Angela later told me after I gained some sort of composure. I had to try to at least maintain some sort of semblance of sanity with myself and not cracking.

All that I knew was that was going to be very hard to do. As I re-entered the courtroom to resume the testimony of my life up to that point and to my relationship with Jason and those I tried to surround myself with, I became faint and I was not exactly sure if I could carry on. I tried as I might to will any strength towards that goal. Goodness sake I needed something in order to do that.

The pressure was extreme as I had just bared my soul to the court and to those that never met me. I wondered what they were thinking. That I wish I knew and I guess never would. I sat quietly with Angela till the court resumed. Then it happened, Judge Williams returned and the court was again in session. I again took the stand.

A: "Are you willing to proceed Melissa?" Angela asked me.

Me: "Yes I think so," I whispered my reply barely audible.

A: "Can you please continue where you left off if you can, there is no pressures here at all and please let us know if you need a second to compose yourself."

Me: "I will, thank you Angela and your Honor." I began; "After putting up with 9 years of solid abuse by being raped and beaten, I decided to leave, it was after my 15th birthday. I had just been repeatedly raped by both my 'father' and 'brother'. That was my 15th birthday present. Some present. I was so angry and annoyed not with them but myself. I wanted to kill myself or leave. Those were my options. It was about 2:A.M., I think. So, I made sure I had a few items of clothes with me. I also had what I chose to wear, which was not a lot. I opened the window and tossed my knapsack out, and then I waited to hear any noise that I may have caused them to awaken. I knew if there had been noise I would surely die right then and there. Noting that they never woke up, I jumped about 6 feet or so maybe more to the ground and gathered my knapsack and made for the trees and then I waited to see if any lights came on in the house. Noting that there were none, I set out for the highway, about 8 miles or so away. It took me a long time to get to the highway and I started hitchhiking towards the city. A while later, a trucker picked me up and brought me to the city. I was left near a phone and I called my friend Jenn. I knew Jenn from 4H, I considered her my friend and confidant. I told her everything when she picked me up. I stayed at her place and after some harrowing nightmares and troubles and being scared, I left. I traveled and survived on the streets, some violent and some not so. I stayed doing what I knew best and became a prostitute and survived as best I could. I was on the road for over a year and half and decided enough was enough after I saw some street friends gunned down. I came back to Jenn and we spent a lot of time talking and she introduced me to her friends, one of which was Jason. He knew from the start, who I was as I told him from the get go. I never held anything back."

A: "Was this before the attack?"

Me: "Yes. I then reacquainted myself with him a while later and we started dating. I never expected what happened to me. I never knew he would be capable of that violence. I guess maybe it was too good to be true, that there was a guy that was interested in treating me with respect and not exploiting me. I was so fucking wrong on all accounts," I sighed and tears started down my cheeks in a steady stream. I then said, "I wish he would have killed me that night in October, because I cannot deal with this anymore today." Then I turned to the Judge, "Your honor, can I stop please? This hurts way too much."

Judge: "Can you continue with a bit more? If you can we will wait till you are ready if you wish we can stop."

I answered, "I guess I can go on, and there is not much left to tell." I was given tissues and whipped them away.

"When Jason and I decided to go for supper, we had dated since April. I was excited to go out on the town with him. I had my nails done hair done, the works and I was ready. I asked Melanie to pop up for coffee so we could chat. She left and then the last thing I remember is in the hospital. My body is so fucked up, that I know I will never be able to recognize myself anymore."

A: What do you feel about what Jason did?"

Me: "Jason had no right to do what he did, what gave him that right? He is just like my Asshole "father" and 'brother", they get away with this shit. I am sorry your honor, this just fucking sucks like shit here. Here he is supposed to be on trial and I feel like I am on the gallows here. Fuck! I am pissed" At that point I lost it and passed out.

When I woke I was back in the hospital. I had an IV tube in my arm and I was hooked up to a heart monitor. I was disorientated and very confused. I began crying. I wondered if I might be dead. Then the thoughts struck me, no if I was dead, I would not have a stupid IV in my arm. Fuck! Why does this have to continue? If there was any justice, please let me die. I was later told that when I fell I went right off the stand and hit my body hard on the marble floor and I hit my head on the railings that surrounded the walls of the courtroom. Backwards, I was told.

Oh well, I wish it was harder and I died. Fuck I hate life now, and why me? Fuck that prick Jason. That asshole gets to be away while I have to tried and almost felt like I was convicted of a crime...being a victim is the crime and everyone found me guilty....fuck. I hate life now.

Angela stopped by and told me that it was going to be OK. She said that things would work out and that Jason's lawyer would be only asking some specifics about the night in question with Jason in the court room. I was not to be on the stand till the following week. She was going to get a continuance till I was ready to go back. I thanked her. She said, I am sorry for putting you on the stand for that long. I felt that the trauma would be too great for you. I wish that I could take it back and not have you on the stand."

I told her, "It's not your fault. I managed, not well, but managed."

She said, "McVeigh was so stunned that he had a few tears when he left the court that afternoon. The jury was shocked and utterly befuddled over my testimony, but I could not read them at all."

I just nodded and she left as I fell asleep.

I guess hell is what I have to relive. I wondered how it was going to turn out. I wondered why it was all worth it. I wondered why and if that asshole would get what he deserved. I wondered if my life was actually worth it to go on. I cried for days over that. I ended up 4 days later back at rehab to continue my physical therapy. I would sure know in 4 days what that asshole McVeigh had to say to me and the interrogation I was going to put under with that fucking asshole prick Jason sitting smug faced beside him. Time was not on my side, nor my thoughts and feelings of dread...........

The long trial over, life as I new it continued. Now, Jason was in prison, and I could breathe easier. Melanie, Jenn and I went out to a coffee shop to celebrate. I was not up for any fancy dinner, yet. AS usual, they had their coffee, while I had my tea. Oh, I'd tried to drink that bitter brew, but even with cream and sugar, it was horrible. I prefer a cup of hot tea with a touch of sugar, just enough to cut the edge off of the taste.

Slowly, as it seemed, my days became routine, there was the same gossip in the PT room, with the same therapists. In my head, I was not getting back into my routine. Sure, one might say that 'well she is healing'. The truth is told, yes, my body may be healing, but my emotions and my psyche' were severely damaged. I wished that I could be nightmare free. But, unfortunately, this was not to be. I gave the nurses at the rehabilitation center a heart attack on more than one occasion.

My nightmares would start out the same with Jason and me causally talking, and then they would erupt into his assault on me. I would wake up screaming. Eventually, I hoped that they would end. I had to pin some kind of hope in this. Shit! I had survived that asshole's brutal assault and rape on me. It must get back to normal, someday! But when would it? In the following month, I was visited by Angela and on a few occasions, by Melanie, too. She had moved from the residence under me. I knew I would have to find a new place. That was one of my priorities, afterwards.

The aftermath of all this placed me in the delicate and fragile column. I was snippy and sarcastic; I was quite a challenge to the therapists. I had a few visits by Sheila as well and we talked a significant amount. I also had physicians from the mental health society and from the woman's center, to council me on dealing with this traumatic event. 38 days later, I was well enough to be released and start fresh as they say.

I had to find a temporary place to live, so I went to the YWCA and was given a room. I had to find a job, which was next on my priority list. My former job was lost to me since I was still in therapy, and my former boss had to replace me, reluctantly. I was useless at stocking shelves. I did not blame him for what he had to do, I blame Jason, instead.

Social assistance was the present order for the day. I maintained counseling and individual sessions with both Sheila and Pat at the Women's center. My many trips to the psychologists were long and very exhausting. With Sheila and Pat they were good sessions. Each was 2 hours and they were of some help. In December, I joined a support group and continued with them for 7 months. I had found a job working in a convenience store working night shift (4 pm till 12 Am). The pay was good, not great. However, it put some food on my plate. I still had many scars and walked with crutches for several months after my release

Life was very complicated as I became despondent and depressed on many occasions, I eventually gave up and quit my job at the store. I was diagnosed with PTSD and I still suffer with it today. Many years after the fact, I eventually found a steady job and pay check. I ended up with a major retail chain stocking shelves from 11 pm to 8 am. I had finally, by this time, had recovered enough that I could walk again.

I really enjoy doing that job as I worked mainly by myself. The personnel manager and the night time supervisor were well aware of my struggles and they paired me up with a few other ladies or left me alone. I was given my instructions in notes left in my mailbox. I loved it. It was like a game to me to see what I would have to do that day, and at times, they would include a joke, too.

I found small one room apartment 4 months later and moved my meager belongings in. They consisted of a radio, a mattress and some clothes, some glasses and silverware and plates too that were placed in storage for me by both Jenn and Melanie while the trial was going on. Life rolled on and I maintained a very shy existence at work and my social life diminished to next to nothing. I resorted to immersing myself in books and music. I gathered a lot of LP's and cassettes. Bands like: Journey, Led Zeppelin, Rush, April Wine, Harlequin, The Stones, the Who, Black Sabbath, AC/DC. Books by authors; Patterson, King, and Follett.

I wondered often what my life was going to be like. I wondered if things would be ever the same. Were the things that I had experienced before, return? Were those things from my past to continue? I had no idea. Al that I knew was that I had to try and live as best I could. Yeah, right, I seriously began to question everything. I took a night course on Human Resources. I enrolled and passed. My life would once again change dramatically in June of 1997. This event would upset the balance of how I was to live.

May passed into June and my job was beginning to be quite enjoyable, I came out of my shy spell and I actually started to talk with others at work. Both male and female, I know uncanny, but true. I had to try and get over my fear of contact with the male of the species of this planet. Not an easy task to accomplish, let me assure you. It began at the trial, believe it or not, I myself can hardly believe it, and I went through it.

I saw that the judge had respected me during the trial. And there also were a few men who were very kind to me as I went to the cafeteria during recess. hey saw how I looked, and when they heard about the trial, they would say that they hoped that I won the case. They said that Jason was a scumbagg for what he did, and when they learned about my story, they said that I had courage to go through what I did. One of the men even treated me like a Princess. He would wait on me and tell me really bad jokes that were so awful that I had to laugh.

I made some strong acquaintances at work,a woman named Denise was on the same routine as me. We had the same days off and we ended up on coffee excursions almost weekly. She was married with no kids as of yet; Her husband was a labourer at the pipe fitting plant just north of the city. Denise was short, plump, not fat mind you, just round with blue eyes and long brunette hair. She stood a height of 4'11. That was cool.

I sort of got to know a guy there on my shift as well, his name was Pete, and he was shy and quiet, thin like a rail. He stood 5'6 and about 145 if that. That pair made quite a combination, let me tell you. Both had comic personalities, me I was again the odd out in the trio. But they did not mind that, at all, which pleased me to no end. Pete's schedule ran one day longer than Denise's and mine.

The three of us were returning from our 2:30 A.M. coffee break, (I do not drink coffee, I had my usual tea). We all were in the stock room loading our carts and beginning to move the carts to the floor; I reached for a few extra items to place on my cart and then moved the cart to the floor. I had forgotten a box on the table in the back, Denise went back with me as she needed to grab her extra cart that was loaded of fabrics and clothes for the clothes area. I had the baby area and shoes. As I was returning to the floor, my lights went out.

I woke up in the medical emergency room. I was disoriented and groggy. I had blood on my face and hands and my smock was covered in dirt mixed with blood. The supervisor was in a chair near me, Denise was on the floor.

She popped back a hour later and asked, "How are you doing, Melissa?"

I said, Not good,"

I attempted to sit up and fell forward, banging my head on the desk that was near the bed. I was out again, I woke up in the Emergency room several hours later, in a hospital gown. My first thought was 'why me.'

A doctor arrived and told me,, "I want to do x-rays and a CT scan. Is that OK with you, Melissa?"

I loked at her, and nodded my head, as I did not want to communicate at that time. This was Déjà vu. I began to wonder if these stupid hospital visits are a common occurrence, and when the hell were they going to stop. Sheesh! If it is not one thing, it's another. If you remember, I was diagnosed earlier with having Multiple Sclerosis, well this was the nail that popped that balloon.

I did not realize it yet; my life walking was going to be at a end. All sorts of Questions arose in me. Why me? What next? How was I going to live? Where was I going to live? Was my life over? I have always been smart, nothing I was even remotely prepared for even analytically speaking. I WAS DONE! They sat things come in threes, well if there was any indication I broke that record. Fuck. WHY? Was this some kind of punishment again for my life?

After a week in hospital again, I was told that I was never going to be able to walk again, that my life would be spent on four wheels. OK, I thought, 'How the hell am I going to get about that way?'

Not that I had that much experience in a wheelchair to begin with. Sure, I had those days being wheeled in a chair to physio every day, but this was going to be completely different. My God, how was I going to adapt to this way of life? Was there a choice? Was there a chance I could survive this? At this point I had to say no way in hell. I was set up with a temporary chair from the Abilities Council. The next chore was how to make the chair more friendly and how was I going to get to and from work.

Shit, my frustration level peaked again. I was sent back to The Rehabilitation Center and given a number of tests and challenges and then set free 12 days later. Shit, real life challenges and I was not comfortable with this new adventure.

I began to think of ways to get about. I tried the city transit services and they only had a few low floor buses, but they were not guaranteed to be running when I needed to be at work or when I was off work. A dilemma to say the least. I would soon find out that individuals like me now in chairs had more obstacles than those walking and this became my mission.

I was going to master this chair and challenges that went along with it. I was now mobile and I was on wheels and this new adventure would begin.......

NOTE: This final part of a long and grueling chapter of my life. I will continue when I find the time after my surgery in a weeks time. God Bless everyone who have read this story. I am very appreciative of this opportunity. Thank You.

One might look back and say 'What have I truly accomplished in my life?' I can say with honesty, a lot. Looking back over the last 44 years of my menial existence on this planet we call Earth, I am drawn into thinking, 'What have I truly accomplished with my life?' I have, I suppose accomplished a lot. For one thing, I had succeeded in dealing with all of the years of abuse from my 'Family', almost two years of abuse while living on the streets, the failed relationships with idiots.

I survived a harrowing assault and rape that almost killed me. I have spent time in institutions due to failed suicide attempts. The time I went through a nasty trial, the heartache of continued PTSD. The angst and fear of relationships, my fears of My Illness MS and my Seizures.

I have dealt with these issues with not so much finesse, nor style. What can I say about my life; up till this point in time, it SUCKED. I am honest about that. I suppose it begs to answer that question. What did I accomplish? My answer is one word. A lot I cannot answer it any other way than that. I am a survivor to an extent. I have demons that will plague my dreams till I am in the ground. But my strength comes from what I knew on the streets, when I was 15, I grew up so quickly. I never knew what a child did, I was never a child. I was never able to enjoy the childish games we all should enjoy at young ages.

I was kept as a slave and a prostitute. I survived that shit. I became resilient to everything. My trust and faith was lost. My hopes were dashed
by my 'parents'. My aspirations diminished greatly with what they did to me. I only became human when I left home. I had a true friend and sister in JENN. Her strength and compassion and support got me through a lot. What can I add to this about my past? It is just that, my past.

It is a reminder of what was, what happened, a synopsis of time and a reminder to me of how shit can pile up and not get cleaned up off the shovel. I am a lonely cog in the wheel of life. Life will go on for me. From here on out I have no idea where it will lead.

In 1996 I had a successful surgery to complete the job that my 'parents' and 'Jason' had done to me. My greatest achievement. To be whole, that was nice to undergo. I became a woman, at least as much as I could. I would never menstruate, nor bear children, but I was at least complete.

In 2004, I wrote an impressive report on access and transportation. I have now become a published author. I also started on my autobiography that summer. I have 38 years of journals to wade through. These are not easy to digest even now. A lot of painful memories and tears have been shed. I have only made a small dent into them. What I have accomplished with going through most is what I present here. This is only a small account of things.

In 2006, after I had been in a wheelchair for almost 10 years, I was invited to attend a revival at the request of a woman whom lived in the accessible building I now reside in. Theresa was singing that sunny Sunday morning in August. The church was full, the music was inspiring. I have never heard such melodies before. I got to wonder if this was not my new path in my life. I began to wonder if all this time I was alone, with no guardian angels looking after me that this was where I needed to belong.

You have to realize that I had not stepped/wheeled into a church since I was 14, which was the last time I entered a place of worship. This was a wonderful experience for me. This was where I needed to be and belong. After all was done, I was introduced to several members of the church and the two pastors. Belinda and Darryl. They welcomed me to the church with open arms. I have attended Sundays for almost two years now and I was officially baptized on September 9, 2007. A huge accomplishment for me.

Something I never would have pictured 30 years previous. I still attend to this day. I have shared my story with the church on several occasions. What lies for me next? I have no clue, it is not up to me, and well I guess it is. I will make do with what I can daily and take that as it is.

I look forward to what lies ahead for me, not with any anticipation mind you. I keep saying to all those I meet, I will "Rely on my street smarts education more than I will on my book smarts, any day of the week' that is what I think and now know has gotten me to this point in my life.

I guess you have to ask yourself the question as I have done many times in the last few years. Was this a Tragedy of the Spirit? Yes it was and was anything really accomplished from this? Yes there was, I am still here. I have made my life out of that tragedy. My friend at church put this on me. "I am a phoenix, whom rose from the ashes to become an inspiration." I guess I never really thought of things in that context.

She drew me a large phoenix wall hanging that I have now above my bed above my cross. I am forever grateful to Nikki for that. My life was truly a tragedy; I now believe that there was a purpose. I came out of that hell and into a life I can believe as hope. I look forward to my remaining days where there will not be so much tragedy, but bliss.

There are some that say life for anyone can be made either easy or difficult. I can relate to that saying on so many different levels. Now my life has become difficult, once again.

I am in now way saying that my life was easy. I can say that I adapted to it quite nicely (sarcasm here). The shit hit the fan early in my life and well, it kept piling up. Now, I can definitely say it is piling up, yet again.

Now that that idiot Jason is out of my life for the next while, I can concentrate on my current situation. This new situation is trying to live on four wheels. Yeah!! What a concept. Firstly, my place of residence is not and I do mean NOT easy to get about in.

I will say that has become a serous issue for me. Sure you might say well anyone can get about in a wheelchair. I say try it and see. Better yet try it on plush carpet.

After my hospital stay, I was set up with several other doctors, and yes, back to the rehabilitation center where I had been for months. Sheesh, enough was enough. I think that they may get tired of me there.

I was angry about my current situation. Anyone should be. I took this as a positive sign, I could easily give up. Trust me I could do that. I decided to adapt. Anyhow, I was outfitted with my new wheels, much better fit for me than the ones that they loaned me when I came home with.

I was outfitted with arm crutches. These were going to be a challenge altogether. Oh well, what can I do, there was so much that needed to be done. I was off work and well that took on a whole new dimension for me.

I am not used to sitting about. Yes I was depressed, I called Sheila several times and we chatted. One thing I had to find was suitable transportation for me to get out, and then I had to fine someone to assist me around the apartment and assist me in my day to day outings. That was a challenge. More on that a bit later.

Multiple Sclerosis is a neurological illness that affects the myelin lining that protects the spine. The symptoms can result in shaking, vision issues and severe muscle trauma. The nerve endings are basically short circuiting as the pathways are slowed. It the basic and easy way to describe it. For me, I lost my control of my arms and legs. Some of the other issues I encountered were the vision concerns as my eyesight diminished, but not completely.

I have severe spasms that my whole body reacts too and some of these are violent. It was also detected as well that I had two small cysts imbedded in my hips. Those were deemed to be non threatening; however they would have to be dealt with at a later time if they became an issue.

Anyhow, my concern was finding suitable assistance for myself. After several weeks I found a young woman who was attending the medical college here in the city, and she and I connected. I hired her on the spot.

Yes, there were financial restraints. I received funding to provide that assistance so she could be paid. Her name was Vickie; she was tall, around 6 feet and 160. She was a part time body builder and bouncer at a local club while attending college. Her straight black hair and brown eyes were a nice compliment to her height.

We talked a significant amount as to what my expectations were and my needs. She also laid out her schedule and what she hoped to gain from this experience. She started two weeks after I hired her. In the mean time, I tried my best not to go stir crazy in my apartment. I had to find one that did not have carpet all through it.

Seven weeks later I found such a place and I proceeded to set up for my move. I was no longer employed and was now on federal disability. To make things nice, I moved and Vickie my new employee became my roommate as she found it easier to get about if she was living near me. I found that nice and handy and I could get about easier.

Life gradually moved forward for me, I found volunteer agencies to work with, I found my physiotherapy sessions a challenge and yet nice and relaxing. Life was not by far easy, and yet it was the most relaxed I had been in many years.

I had no set schedules, no time limits. The time it took me to get out of bed was almost 20 minutes. Yes, those cysts became a severe issue for me and they eventually were operated on and removed. They were benign, thank God. I gained a new sense of self esteem and strength. Something that I never expected before, I found peace. Peace not with myself but with my surroundings.

I became comfortable with males and females a lot more. I found a part time job doing data entry, and well, I went to school to learn some adapting skills for individuals with physical challenges. Lots of my friends I have now are those I met within groups I joined during the first few years of my 'chair' life.

I also became more adept in my surrounding, I could move in my chair if I had the strength. My new place had laminate floors and while not fully functioning for me, it would do. Vickie graduated and moved west for employment at a great hospital. I began my independence soon after she left. She was with me for three years. It was fun while it lasted.

I gained a lot of new skills. Life on four wheels for me began for me. Was this going to be all roses? No chance in hell. Was there going to be challenges? Yes there were. Did I want things? No way. Was I going to adapt? Time was going to determine how well that was going to happen.

Life was either shaping up or about to become extremely challenging. I can honestly say now looking back at this unique experience of seeing both sides of life, it has been interesting.

I became less angry with myself and those around me. I became relaxed, but not completely. I still get jittery around men. That is to be expected after what I have gone through. I have undergone several therapies on my legs and arms as well as my back. I shake considerable now as the illness of MS is getting worse. Life continues on four wheels for me, slow as it is, I am managing.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Note: The final chapter of my synapse of my life will be posted by the end of the week as I am to undergo some major surgery on the 27th. Many blessings to all that have read this true life story of mine.

Note: This is a little story that kind of expanded as I lay here awaiting my upcoming surgery. I am not exactly sure what I was thinking of when I scribbled this out on here. I guess in some ways it reflects my life being lonely. Not being able to find true love and happiness in ones life I guess that there are many degrees of loneliness. For me it has been that way, as reflected in "TRAGEDY". I would speculate that many of us go through periods of being alone or lonely. This is a typical boy whom feels rejected by family, friends and society and how he somewhat overcame those and in the end asked the question....What about the lonely?

I have to add that I guess that the inspiration for this came about while listening to my favorite band, "JOURNEY". If anyone knows the music or have heard of the song "ASK THE LONELY", then you might pick up on this little inspiration. Thanks I do appreciate the support I have now, I can only wish that was there when I was growing up and continued to where I am today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmmmm...I am not sure if I should begin here or not. I guess that I'll at the beginning. so here goes. My name is Patrick; I was born April 25th, 1975. Today I celebrated my 13th birthday. I am kind of skinny, at 5 feet 7 and weigh 90 pounds. I have long brownish/red hair, like my mom Rachel. Mom is the same height as I am and well, she weighs a bit more than me. My mom and I look so much alike that we are often mistaken for sisters, rather than mother and son. My dad on the other hand is quite tall; he stands 6 feet 4 and around 220. His name is Pete.

I guess I have known for a long time with all the teasing and bullying that suffered, that in response, I have endured over the last few years that I resorted to isolating myself from those around me. Mom and I still talk and I have not really isolated myself from her, at least technically speaking that is. I am very smart; I have an IQ in the low three digits. Who knows, I might become some sort of professor, some day. THAT, I'd like as professors tend to be loners, and isolated like I want to be.

I am starting the 9th grade in September. I know, what is for a 13 year old who is a geek by all the stretch of the imagination to be going into high school early will most likely endure. I saw the Revenge Of The Nerds movie. But my going to high school early is Mom's doing. As I mentioned, I am like her in many ways. The only difference between us is the fact that I am a boy whom wishes he was born a girl, like my mom.

I knew something was up when I was about 7 or so, I spied on my mom while getting dressed, I wondered in awe of the clothes she wore and wished I was getting dressed similar to her. My mom works as an accountant, THAT, I like, very much. My dad, he works in construction on the railways building things like bridges etc. That is not my thing, I'm just NOT the outdoors type.

Sometimes when I was left alone, I would try on her undoes and the odd skirt. I knew that I should have been born a girl. Unfortunately, I do not really have friends, at least in the literal sense. All that I have are the odd acquaintances. Being the geek and the smartest one kind of excludes you from a lot of activities that others enjoy, it seems.

Me, because of my loneliness, I resort to music and writing whenever I need too unwind, lose myself in my secret world where I can cope with my so called life. This has a tendency to isolate me from everyone and everything around me. There, I create my perfect world, and hate having to leave it.

This is where I wish I was born a girl. I wish it so much that at times I have resorted to cutting myself on my legs and arms. I wear nothing but long shirts and pants to hide the cuts and scars so that I won't be sent to the hospital or some shrink who'd try to "cure" me. What is there to cure? I am simply a girl in the wrong body, and look like a girl, too.

I have contemplated suicide a few times. I get so lonely that well, it is my only escape I figure. I have written some pretty whacked out stories for class and have been ridiculed and chastised by teachers and students alike. Now, if I could sell them to Hollywood , I'd be rich!

Now, some of my musical influences if you can believe that for such a young person are, Buddy Holy, The Commodores, The Doors, The Cars, Led Zeppelin and countless others. I have listened to songs that describe the loneliness of individuals that sings out to my tortured soul. They have such strong meanings etc, there is Elvis's song "Only the Lonely", to the rockier tune by Journey "Ask the Lonely". I am lonely, I am depressed that is why I write and listen to songs. I guess you wonder why I am writing this. Well, it goes like this......

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being a scrawny 13 year old in a school full of your basic cliques etc. one begins to wonder what the hell am I doing in a school full of idiots and jerks. Being highly intelligent I was instantly picked on from the get go in homeroom. This made my school days a daily nightmare that I endured.

Let my describe the three jerks that are the instigators: Tim Williams, the tall jock, at 5' 11 and a 50 pounds heavier than me, he has short military style hair; Then there is Josh Bradley, 5'8 and muscular another jock and a asshole too boot, Josh easily weighed 50 pounds or more than I did; finally there is Calvin Jones, this idiot takes the cake, the basic leader of these morons, whom started this whole mess in home room, Calvin is heavyset and at 6'0 and a good 200 pounds and bald he looks like the mobster type.

The day started out well and then turned to shit as they say. At recess, I was tackled and then punched and called all types of names. I know I am not the most muscular guy on the planet, but sheesh, I should not be picked on either. But bullies are cowards and love to gang up on their victims.

Why they decided to pick on me I will never guess, there are some others that I know of in school and are in my classes during the day. And yes, they are girls. They are gorgeous, at least in my mind they are. You see: there is Dawn, she is statuesque at a height of 5'10 and 115 and gorgeous, and I bet she will be a model when she graduates high school or college. Dawn has long black shimmery hair at shoulder length. She is on the junior cheerleading squad with a girl named Melissa. Now Melissa is 5' 8 and 110 I would guess with dark red hair below the waist and very pretty, both of these girls are dating the two top guys in the school, both jocks and they do al the sports...sheesh, I hate sports.

Now that leaves my neighbor Rene, She is short at 5 feet zip and barely 100 pounds, with blonde hair to shoulders. Rene is quiet and shy, however her flaw is that she hangs with the clique at school and is a bitch towards me when in school, while at home she has the "angel" attitude...yuck... Falsehoods and phonies... Detest them all I do.

The teasing continued all the way through school for me. I will not need to bore you with all the assaults and hospital stays I that I endured until I was in my senior year at high school. I was called sissy, fag, geek, geekoid, loser... you name it. I came out of most scrapes with bruises and a few broken bones. My parents ignored it and always just kind of shrugged it off as "boys will be boys" and "you will bulk up soon".

Yeah right. I wish. NOT!!!!!!!. Hence why I wish I was born a girl, to be popular to fit in to be apart of something to be less lonely.

Rene and I would talk away from school with her parents, Judy and her dad Phil. Mind you it always went the other way while in school, due to what I told Rene, it went through school like wildfire. But I am getting ahead of myself here a wee bit.

June of '88 saw me spending it in hospital with broken arm and ribs, that dumb ass Josh tackled me pretty hard. All because I fought back against his name calling. Boy did I ever feel lonely there, story of my life up to date so far.

Well, when I got home, things just proceeded to get worse for me, I felt that my dad was treating me differently and so was my mom. My dad was stern and blunt when he spoke to me. My mom would just sit and wonder why I was like I was. I was not the typical boy. The strong one, the assertive one, the one that was a go getter. The one that strives to want to be a success.

I think in my parents eyes I was a failure. I sure felt like it. I plunged into a deep depression and it took hold and I guess I never shook it off. Things went from worse to extremely worse over the next school year. The beatings persisted and the depression deepened.

The loneliness tightened my life like a noose so much that I wanted to die and I think those that knew me were wondering if I could actually do it. I actually came very close one day while I was in biology in grade 10. You see, we were dissecting frogs, and I took the razor sharp scalpel and slit my wrist right in front of the class, not the down the vein but across. I passed out as did half my class. I missed a lot of school and was put on suicide watch in hospital and eventually the psyche ward. I told some moronic doctor what he needed to know and I was out of there. The usual promise not to endanger myself or others etc.

My mom and dad were pissed off to say the least, as were the teachers at school. Boy did the loneliness ever engulf me again, BIG TIME, so, I kept a brave face. The teasing and abuse continued, not just at school, but now, at home as well. Dad punched me a few times and I winced each and every time he hit me. Mom ignored it all and just chalked it up to fathers and sons wrestling. Yeah right!.

It all came to a surprising end one Sunday when the games that Mom so thought was father and son wrestling, turned into a few broken bones on me. Yes, three broken ribs and a fractured collar bone. That ended that.

After this episode I was depressed and very much at a low point where the loneliness crept into my daily existence. I felt isolated, lonely, depressed like never before. I almost committed suicide, again. That was when I decided to start writing little snippets of stuff. Those would be poems and lyrical phrases. My daydreams of a peaceful existence became clearer as I wanted so much to be a girl.

That was when I started sneaking into Mom's room to swipe her clothes, and then decided to venture more daringly to dress full time in the house. I knew it was something that I wanted to do, and it overcame me. I found excuses to dress when they would go out. I started cutting lawns etc and getting money to spend on clothes. All in all, I still felt lonely. I asked myself, what would make me happy? The answer was being a girl full time. The next question was why can I not tell my mom about this? The answer was simple... she would tell dad and I would get punished.

The third question is... Why am I so lonely? That answer is not so easy to answer. I turned to music and those songs that resonated the feelings of being alone. Being alone. Sheesh! What an overstated word. Are we not all lonely at times in our lives? I know that I am, and I am only 13. Sheesh! what will my life be like in 10 years, 20 years from now, if I live that long?

Will I still be alone, will I still harbor feelings of inadequacy. Worst of all, will I still hurt because of those feelings of being inadequate in my own body. At 13, I should not feel this inadequate. Hence why the contemplation of suicide and doing harm to my body.

My association with those around my dwindled significantly over the months and years. My relationships were not strong ones. Rene soon found her clique as did everyone else, then I was truly alone. They say that friends and family are the closest ones to you, and that they can hurt you the most in any part of ones life. I read that somewhere. Those I associated with all hurt me. That left me alone, isolated, hurt, and confused. I remembered a song by Journey that I heard on a rock station years later that I guess summed up a significant part of my life. The song is called "Ask the Lonely". The song is a melancholy of hurt in a person's life and the resentment they feel towards being alone and isolated. This is my take on the song.

ASK THE LONELY

You've been picked and it's over

What's that chip on your shoulder!

Outside were solid rainbows

Inside is where the heart grows

Picking up the pieces

Something more to believe in

As you search the embers

Think what you've had, remember

Hang on, don't you let go now

You know, with every heartbeat, we love

Nothing comes easy

Hang on, ask the lonely

Hang on, ask the lonely

When you're feeling love's unfair

You just ask the lonely

When you're in deep despair

You ask the lonely

You've got some fascination

With your high expectations

This love is your obsession

Your heart, your past possession

Let down your defenses

Won't be up to the one that cares

As you search the embers

Think what you've had, remember

Hang on, don't you let go now

You know, with every heartbeat, we love

Nothing comes easy

Hang on, ask the lonely

Hang on, ask the lonely

When you're feeling love's unfair

You just ask the lonely

When you're lost in deep despair

You just ask the lonely

This is a story of found love and acceptance by two people, whom by a small miracle meet and eventually fall in love. The trials and tribulations of both are intriguing, sometimes often painful. We reach a higher plain in life and hopefully find truth, love, and acceptance, and finally faith. The question is can we find that faith within ourselves? If so, will that faith be faithfully yours? I decided to write this tale due to my favorite song by my favorite group "Journey."

In some ways, it mirrors parts of my life up to now. As I rest in the hospital with not a lot to do, I remember hearing this song and eventually buy the album with this song on it. The song is called "Faithfully". I wore the album out and eventually bought the greatest hits album with this song on it.

As I lay here, I am listening to this song in the hope that I will gain some Faith and make it through this struggle. Here is the story, please enjoy.

Thanks very much

------------------------------------------------------------------------

FAITHFULLY BY JOURNEY

HIGHWAY RUN

INTO THE MIDNIGHT SUN

WHEELS GO ROUND AND ROUND

YOUR ON MY MIND

RESTLESS HEARTS

SLEEP ALONE TONIGHT

SENDIN' ALL MY LOVE

ALONG THE WIRE

THEY SAY THAT THE ROAD

AIN'T NO PLACE TO START A FAMILY

RIGHT DOWN THE LINE

IT'S BEEN YOU AND ME

AND LOVIN' A MUSIC MAN

AIN'T ALWAYS WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE

OH GIRL YOU STAND BY ME

I'M FOREVER YOURS FAITHFULLY

CIRCUS LIFE

UNDER THE BIG TOP WORLD

WE ALL NEED CLOWNS

TO MAKE US SMILE

THROUGH SPACE AND TIME

ALWAYS ANOTHER SHOW

WONDERING WHERE I AM

LOST WITHOUT YOU

AND BEING APART AIN'T EASY ON

THIS LOVE AFFAIR

TWO STRANGERS LEARN TO FALL IN LOVE AGAIN

I GET THE JOY

OF REDISCOVERING YOU

OH GIRL, YOU STAND BY ME

I'M FOREVER YOURS ------FAITHFULLY

OH OH OH OH ------

FAITHFULLY, I'M STILL YOURS

I'M FOREVER YOURS

EVER YOURS ---- FAITHFULLY

*******************

First, let me introduce myself, my name was Dale. I was a scrawny kid, I stood 5foot' 6inches and at a paltry 140 lb. I was pounded upon by everyone who took a dislike to me. I grew up in a modest home. Both of my parents worked a lot, I had no siblings. In fact, it was kind of nice not having to share everything. I really enjoyed my first 11 years.

I have a small group of friends, mainly skinny kids like me. We were the "Geeks," and not very popular. My best friends name is Paul, He was 5foot'11inches, and 3 years older than me. He was the athlete in his family which contained 2 additional sisters; Candice[13], and Denise[12]. They were both very beautiful young girls that broke any boys' hearts wherever they went. Denise was not that close, but close enough.

One particular Saturday while out at the local park, I was tackled and eventually knocked out by the class bully, Clarence, he was built like a small tank. I eventually awoke in the hospital. Both of my arms were broken, six of my ribs, and a concussion too. After 7 days, I learned the devastating new that I lost my genitals. Apparently, Clarence had a switchblade. He chose to cut me and did so with devastating results. My parents were livid when they found out. They wanted to press charges, and were granted. Clarence was sentenced to 5 years in a youth detention facility.

Eventually, I left the hospital after 9 weeks; little did I know how much my life would change. I became despondent, and suicidal, and my friends deserted me. My father more or less alienated me, and I could hear my parents argue over the "freak." Paul, Denise, and Candace also went their separate ways. This was soon to change. As I grew older, and accepted who I was, I was soon to be reunited with Paul in a most unique way.

7 Years Later

After 3 years of agonizing revelations as to why my body was developing as a female due to H.R.T. What also contributed to all of the tension that I was under in my household was that I blamed myself for all of the strife that took place there. I had started my 10th year of high school, as a girl none the less. I was home-schooled for my grade 9 year, that in and of itself was a nightmare too.

It was in the middle of English that I rose up from my desk and walked out of that school, never to be seen again by those who only knew the lonely looking chick in the back row. A Police Report was filed and a search for me was begun to no avail. After 18 months, the search was called off, and I was listed as a missing child, and unsolved. I never did find out what happened with my parents, that was not my concern. My new life began that day when I walked out of school without an explanation.

You ask me what I was doing? Or where I was? I will tell you, I was hiding in plain sight of everyone. I was also doing things to survive, I became a street person. I of course had a pimp and I was abused nightly by him and by my "johns". I was still considered by many to be a half female/half male. Sure I had no genitals, but I could still go to the bathroom. However, I still had that dangly penis neatly tucked up inside of me. I still had a long way to go before I could become whole.

The chance meeting that would forever change my life happened on Tuesday while I was at the mall. I saw the gorgeous looking boy, He was well built, and short haired. And for the life of me, I could not remember if I had ever known the boy. I was walking past him to the local music shop to pick up a few albums and hopefully the one that I wanted. You see, I had a musical taste, not the singing or the playing kind. I simply enjoyed music and losing myself in the songs.

I had waited for months to finally get my hands on "Journey's Frontier" album; I had a small record player where I was staying at. Music was my escape from my pain. I fell in love instantly with the group "Journey". Their music resonated within me. I guess that you could say that their music enlightened and engulfed me with happiness that I so desperately needed. One particular song which became my all time favorite, and is still me favorite to this day is "Faithfully." The way that I interpret the song is that Life is a long road, and eventually, in time, one can find their true love and start a family.

I sang the song very religiously in my mind, and in doing so, I actually drove those around me crazy. Fate would eventually decide to intervene several weeks later when I saw the very same boy in the mall once again, and we literally bumped into each other. I lost all of my parcels, and the usual apologies were exchanged between us. We were held captive by each others starry-eyed looks we were giving the other.

He introduced himself as Paul; I was so stunned by his eyes that I had to make up a name very quickly. I was uncertain about my name; could I actually use my name of Dale? No, I decided to tell him that my name was Calliegh. I knew that I was in love with him the moment that I saw him, and I think that he knew it too. He invited me to share a cup of coffee with him and I accepted. We talked about families, music, siblings and etc. Now, how could I say, "Hi, I am your friend Dale, and I am in love with you, will you accept me?"

I simply couldn't, so I gave him the bare facts of my life. There were of course questions that he had to ask, and I avoided most of them with a simple "No comment." We also talked about where we worked, and I told him that I was in "Customer Service," he was a store clerk and working to become an "Assistant Manager." Our musical tastes were similar too, we both enjoy: rock, jazz, blues and a few of the classical composers. He told me that his favorite band is "Earth, Wind, And Fire," I told him that my favorite is "Journey." He seemed to be interested in my musical taste, and I told him the reasons behind my favorite song by "Journey." He nodded his head, and we parted company after we had exchanged phone numbers. I unfortunately was still under the control of my pimp, so when I convinced Peter [my pimp] that he was a regular customer, he let it go.

Several weeks and meetings passed by, and we eventually began a relationship. I was still a little bit leery of this and what he might say or do to me if he discovered my well kept secret. We would kiss and hug,
but we never went any further than that. But I so wanted to tell him, however, I could not bear the pain of telling him. I in time, left Peter my pimp after the pain grew to be too much, my income to him dropped off. I set off on my own once again. I needed work and I needed it very soon or I would be unfortunately forced back into the life of prostitution that I had just left behind me.

"Life sure sucks" I told Paul when we met once again several days later. I needed to work, and my current employer had let me go. He had engaged me in the type of skills that I had told him that I was capable of doing; Customer service, money management, but there wasn't anything else that I could tell him unless I told him about my "bedroom' skills which I didn't want to do. I also told Paul that I had no place to stay as well, but that he was not to worry because I would find me an apartment shortly. I still held on to my hopes and dreams and faith like my song that I sang constantly, and then we parted company.

I struggled and I eventually landed a job where my limited skills would be most useful. You have to keep in mind that I only had a 9th grade education, because of that, there was not very much for me in the work place to do. I worked in a call center answering calls and placing orders as well as a bit of troubleshooting some of the minor problems with the orders. Paul and I continued to date and eventually, that had to end as he moved away in order to attend a more prestigious opportunity elsewhere. I mean, sure we tried to do the long distant relationship bit, however it simply never amounted to all that much. So much for the opportunity to find faith in a relationship so many miles away. So I kept a positive outlook on this as I hoped that we would cross paths once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2
~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello, my name is Paul Anderson Coleman. I have two sisters and a best friend named Dale Anthony Waters. Me, I had a normal start in life, I grew up to be the typical strong male, but I was also very accepting of those around me. But unfortunately, after I had heard about what that Clarence had done to my friend Dale, things shifted for me all of a sudden. I became very confused about how I felt about Dale and withdrew from him/her. Could I still be friends with Dale now that he was a girl? Would I be labeled a faggot, queer, or gay because of my being with Dale now? Ii is really sad in a way, because I could never ever fully understand Dale's pain and confusion that he went through after the assault.

I never did see all that much of him after that fateful day, then I heard that he had actually had the strength to walk away from school and ran away from home. His parents treated him like a pariah, and from that day, never treated him as a son or daughter. Oh, there was a search that was
conducted, but as soon as they could, his parents sold his stuff and turned his bedroom into a sewing room for his mother. But what's really disgusting is that they did it in the first week of the search!!

During this time, I chose to concentrate my energies upon my life and academics. But my two sisters took the news of Dale's assault quite differently than I did. Denise became despondent and withdrawn, but hr anger would manifest at times towards me. Candace, however on the other hand seemed to have accepted the assault as just a passing thing, and didn't get all that worked up about it.

"What is to be is to be." she would constantly say. Well, that drove me and my family crazy!! I never knew what happened to him, but somehow my heart knew that he would be found by me someday in the future. And I most assuredly wanted to know more about her than I knew. She was adept at avoiding answering any personnel questions when asked. I can't help but to think that she was extremely shy, either that or she was not sure about what to say to me and as a result was stumped to provide me an answer. I did know that she used to work in customer service, but that she was let go recently.

We had a lot in common in our taste in music. Yes, I admit that I loved the "Motown Sound", and the early rock of the '70's, and even some of the "Big Band Era". Well, he loved virtually everything! She really loved that band "Journey", I had never heard of them before I met her. However, she seemed to know them and she kept on singing or whistling her favorite song" Faithfully". Well anyhow, she loved music as much as I did, and we shared other interests as well.

I was shocked when she wanted to end the relationship due to the great distance that we had between us thanks to me moving away to attend college at the time. I have to admit that she was the right woman for me; however, I was not all that sure that the distance was a good thing for both of us. Unfortunately, I never saw her again after that last day with her and always wondered if we would ever meet again. In a sense, I felt that she had a career, and I had mine as an assistant manager. Life can throw you some curves, and mine was sure to come, I just never knew when, however, when it did, it hit me square between the eyes.

As the times were and their lives moved seemingly far apart, Both Paul and Calliegh would indeed meet in time, and once again, their undying love for one another would unite them in completion.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
~~~~~~~~~~~

Calliegh's Version

I awoke on a Tuesday for my usually oh-so-boring shift at the call center, I once again wondered about my best friend Paul. But this particular Tuesday was unusual for two distinct reasons: 1. I was pretty confidant that I would no doubt hear from him somehow; the second reason was that day would change me forever. Reason 1; I was scheduled to work a particularly long shift of 10 hours instead of the usual 8, the most yet for a newbie. Well, to tell the truth, I didn't care that I was working overtime; money was extremely tight for me at the time. You see, even though I lived relatively cheaply, getting by on cheap meals from fast food restaurants or some fruit from the store. I'd eat only once a day and even skipped a meal. I was still weighed 140 lb, maybe even less.

As 3P.M. approached with the day dragging by, my stray thoughts once again centered upon the "Wonder of Paul" and what he might be doing with particular vigor. I received a tap on my shoulder while I was in the midst of a rather lengthy call, only having 10 seconds to think about my Paul. I was asked to go to the office for some unknown reason.

I began to wonder why I was being summoned; my erratic thoughts were zipping along at warp speed in my head, what in the world could be wrong? Was I finally located by my parents after all of this time? Was I now out of a job again? These were but a few of the millions of agonizing questions that flooded my poor brain with no concrete answers to my questions.

So, I returned to my happy place by humming "Faithfully" by "Journey" once again to myself. As I entered, I saw the back of this guy who was dressed in a business man fashion.

"Oh God, I am fired for sure now! Sheesh!! I will have to find me a new place to live and a new job." Then he turned around and my heart went all a flutter with joy and happiness, for standing in front of me, big as life was Paul, "MY" dear sweet Paul.

Somehow, he had tracked me down, I have absolutely no idea how he did it because I had been careful in not leaving a paper trail. Well, I was shocked and overwhelmed. I could only stutter as I asked why and what he was doing in the office. He smiled smugly; he looked sharp and dapper even. I tried to think of words to describe how he looked, but my 9th grade education was sorely lacking in that area.

"Hello Calliegh."

"Hello Paul. What are you doing here in this office?"

"My dear Calliegh, I have come all this way for you. After I had found out who you really are, after I had put all of the evidence together after I returned home and talked to a few people that had seen me on the streets. They weren't exactly sure whether you were a girl or not. I have to apologize, because in order to see you in here, I told your boss that you were my best friend Dale from back home. I will see you after work."

Needless to say, I was totally stunned. I thought that I was finished, but instead it was a most pleasant surprise rather than bad news.

Paul's Version

I had returned home and I ran into some people of whom actually knew both Dale and me when we were much younger. I'm not sure, but I think that Dale's parents had finally given up looking for him. In fact, everyone did. But then, it had been several years since he up and left.

I woke up after talking with a guy named Jerry the night before at the basketball game. He told me, "There is this gorgeous woman that was my regular weekend fling, but now she was no where to be found."
"What did she look like?'

"She had honey blond hair that fell in waves down to her shoulders, her eyes were a vivid green that sparkled with an inner light, and she had long, sexy legs that didn't need any pantyhose, but when she wore them, only added shading to already perfect legs."

'Could he be talking about my Calliegh? NO WAY !!' I thought. So, I questioned him for some 30 minutes and I guess that then it clicked in my head that he could be talking about my best friend Dale, but surely not my Calliegh. She was gorgeous, no way could Dale be her, or could it be? Then I wandered back to our chats and her evasiveness to many questions that I had asked her. NAW!! IT COULDN'T BE!!!

Well, I did even more digging to discover the truth and asked a lot more questions and just of Jerry either. I asked other men who had experiences similar to Jerry's about this beautiful woman that had so captivated them.
Now that brings me up to where I am actually sitting across from her now in the office looking at my still gorgeous, beautiful Calliegh. "MY GOD!! WHY DID WE EVER END UP SPLITTING APART??!!" I asked myself. "Was she having similar thoughts herself about me?"

Me, I am proud to say that I have none of those hang ups that other guys have when it comes to the pre-ops or circumstances that those like my best friend Dale [now my Calliegh] could not control nor any other trans-gendered people. All that I knew was that I was in love with this girl who was at one time a guy and my best friend in the entire world who had suffered a lot was my true love.

As time went on, our relationship grew and grew stronger as we grew even closer. Calliegh was finally able to open her tender heart to me which I shall always cherish. She is MY LADY and I am her KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR forever and always to the end of time.

Calliegh's View

Yes, Paul and I grew even closer as we bonded and learned more about the other. We are now completely whole in Spirit. As it is written; God has made us one flesh, what God has put together, let no one tear asunder.
Paul and I have been engaged for seven and a half months as of this coming Saturday. I've never contacted my parents to put them through Hell. I have instead chosen to leave things as is and let them live with the Hell of never knowing if I'm alive. I do this because of the way that they acted after I ran away. They were never good parents after the attack and my running away has cost them heartache as my uncles' ands aunts have disowned them.

My Paul has assured me that he would never say a word to anyone. However, I do believe that his sister Denise knows the truth, but she has yet to say anything about it to anyone, and her sister I believe knows about me as well, but could care less.

Paul's parents are very pleased that we are getting married, and his Mom and I have grown close. I know that Paul and I love each other and our song is of course "Faithfully" by "Journey." That song shall be played at our wedding in two and a half months on the day that Paul declared his Love for me in the office. That song is more special to me than even Paul realizes. I now leave you with the lyrics to my favorite song:

FAITHFULLY
HIGHWAY RUN
INTO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
WHEELS GO ROUND AND ROUND
YOU'RE ON MY MIND
RESTLESS
HEARTS
SLEEP ALONE TONIGHT
SENDIN' ALL MY LOVE
ALONG THE WIRE
THEY SAY THAT THE ROAD
AIN'T NO PLACE TO START A FAMILY
RIGHT DOWN THE LINE
IT'S BEEN YOU AND ME
AND LOVIN' A MUSIC MAN
AIN'T ALWAYS WHAT IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE
OH GIRL YOU STAND BY ME
I'M FOREVER YOURS ----- FAITHFULLY
CIRCUS LIFE
UNDER THE BIG TOP WORLD
WE ALL NEED THE CLOWNS
TO MAKE US SMILE
THROUGH SPACE AND TIME
ALWAYS ANOTHER SHOW
WONDERING WHERE I AM
LOST WITHOUT YOU
AND BEING APART
AIN'T EASY ON THIS LOVE AFFAIR
TWO STRANGERS LEARN TO FALL
IN LOVE AGAIN
I GET THE JOY
OF REDISCOVERING YOU
OH GIRL, YOU STAND BY ME
I'M FOREVER YOURS-----FAITHFULLY
OH, OH OH ,OH-----
FAITHFULLY I AM STILL YOURS
I'M FOREVER YOURS
EVER YOURS------ FAITHFULLY

Dear readers, Life has many a winding roads and many turns within those roads, you make whatever you can out of Life.

However, you realize that in time that Life is always a Joy as is the Love that you may choose to share with one another around you. You can make each day count and never be without those that you Love within your Heart. Then you may rediscover special things about you and your loved ones in a totally new and wonderful light. Your friends will wonder where you may be from time to time. Remind them to keep Life and Love in their hearts.

I am forever yours faithfully. God Bless. I hope that you have enjoyed reading this and my favorite song. Thanks very much for letting me share this.

Finis

*****************

Editors Note:

When Melissa passed away, I lost a very dear friend of whom I called my sister. What is amazing to me is that even though she had been abused by her step-father, step-brother, and forcibly turned feminized before she ran away and was continually abused by other men and almost killed by Jason, she came to trust me.

Later, Melanie and I conferred on editing Melissa's last stories. For me, editing this story was a joy. For I was once again seeing the beautiful soul that was Melissa's. In this story, I believe that she has given us a glimpse into the Life that she wished that she had lived.

Yes, Melissa found the Faith; she is now a shining star in Heaven. I know because in her last chapter of "Tragedy Of The Spirit," she had overcome and found peace. Thank you Melissa for your friendship and your story. Thank you Melanie for letting me edit Melissa's last few stories.
Stanman63
Please, has you read it, be thankful that Melissa gave us her story to cherish. Stanman63

As I lay here in my posh hospital bed, (that is if you wish to call a hospital bed posh and beautiful), I have to reflect on what life has become for me. So far as I am able to, I lay here and reflect on a lot as I lay here wondering about certain things.

It is simply amazing to me that one seems to reflect on life when we cannot move while in the hospital. For me, because I need supports to move about with range of motion 3 times a day, I have WAY TOO MUCH TIME on my hands.

God, it is hard to get comfortable let alone think without going through pain. Sure one might think that being restricted in hospital that I would have nothing to do. Now, while that may be true to a certain degree, I do have my laptop computer with me so I can continue to write in my journal, and I have books and magazines to read as well.

I do pop on to B.C.T.S. whenever I can, I do miss it, and not being able to contribute my story hurts me. I have finished the last ones and will post as soon as I can. I have known for a quite while now, whether it be through being my being stubborn and the loneliness that I now feel, that I know that my life as I know it is pretty much over. My impending surgery is now but a few days away, and I feel that it will be long and painful recovery for me.

Unfortunately, I have a sinking feeling that I will not make it to post op care. I've had these feelings in me for a long time. You see, ever since I was a kid growing up, I have I felt so worthless and weak that I just wanted to give up. I know that it is the end for me, or at least it is in my dreams that I have at night. It is a lonely time for me as I never do get any visitors, outside of nurses and doctors that is, sigh. And those that I do know are always too busy or too far away to visit me. But I guess it is par for the course as you read and watched my story "A Tragedy of the Spirit" unfolds on B.C.T.S.

The lonely feeling I possess is something that I have never really visited since I was like 6 years old. But now, that feeling has returned with a sudden vengeance. And now I wish that my life was worth more than just continual pain and anguish. Oh, how I want to live a life free of my burdens, a life where my body is not wracked with the scars of my past, nor epilepsy and MS.

As I reflect on that question I posed earlier: What Life has Become?, I guess it has become what I made of it. Sure, I suffered a lot of abuse, rape, degradation, and humiliation. I could have easily chosen to quit and I wished at times throughout my life that I had. I guess that I have become a survivor of sorts. I have relied on my street smarts to get me through life.

I have felt a failure many a time, and I have felt successful as well. I have never truly been happy. Oh sure, one says that being happy is the greatest feeling one can experience, but now I ask you what happiness have I garnered here in my life? I am hurt, I am very angry, and I am not truly happy.

Oh sure, I have endured some elation in the accomplishments I have completed: high school, university, successful legit jobs were truly an elation for me. But unfortunately, I never was able to obtain true happiness. You see, I've never had any successful relationships, with men, mind you that is par for the course as I detested men and there was absolutely no trust in a system either. Yes, I hold hate and anger towards a system that is full of hypocrites. I can and never was able to trust males; I used them for sex and sex only while I degraded my body to survive.

What has my Life become, now it is laying here while I await what is next, I look out at the blowing wind as it shakes the leaves on the poplar trees that are out front of the hospital. I wish I was outside. I wish that I was back doing the things I have been able to do, I have not had a visitor since I entered hospital. I guess that is my fault as I have listed it on my records that no visitors to visit. The one visitor that I'd want to come is Melanie, but she moved away. I am so stupid, so I guess; my own fate is due to my own idiocy. I sure have a lot of time to rest and contemplate.

I have placed a lot of Faith in God while I am here, I read the Bible when I can, and have even had long talks with the nurses about things. Of course, they can only listen as I bet their lives are so much better than mine. They have normal lives; they have families and kids. God, I wish I had that love!!! But I have had to learn to love myself, and I think that over the years, that I have done so. However, I still feel that life has eluded me in some regards with true love.

What has my life become with out all the things that others so richly enjoy: freedom, independence, and yes a lot of jealousy? Jealousy over what though? I am happy for the most part. Sure, I hate my life for the most part, being ripped off with having such parents and a family. But I have had my friends, one in particular, JENN who was my rock when I needed her and then some. I loved her as my sister and I guess she was my street family; my street family was a separate entity altogether, a different culture.

Life for me has become a series of ups and downs and more heartache rather than joy and happiness. I have made it what it has; I have made my life hell for me. I have not made life easy. I make no apologies or justification as to whom I am or was, before now.

My life, such as it is, has become my own, to suffer, and to enjoy that suffering on my own. My autobiography, "Tragedy of the Spirit" is my life in a nutshell. I wish that I would be able to be finished with it, but I feel that I won't get the opportunity to finish the rest of it as it sits waiting at the publisher to be edited and printed. I have to make the final approval of everything; I hope I can get that done. I feel that deep down inside, that I won't. It will hopefully inspire others to survive.

What life has become, only my next life will determine what that will be for me, as I await that to come. I definitely wish it to be better than the one I have had so far. I lay here contemplating what is to come next and I wrote my poem that I will post on B.C.T.S. when I know that I am done.

I know as those that read this, which you will probably think I am crazy, that I went off the deep end. I can assure you that I have not. Yes, I am ranting, I am angry as to why I keep getting the shit end of the stick. I am asking for my fricken lifetime P.H.D. I damn well deserve it by now. I am all ready there mentally. I may be suffering from a bit of depression right now, however, that is my life, and I have bouts of this and have had all through my life.

What my life has become: it has taught me that life is not all roses, life is what you make it, life is full of shit and you try and dig out from under it. There are some that get out of it sooner than others, I was given a bad shake and made the best of it. With shovel in hand I will never dig out completely. What life has been: heartache, pain, anguish and anger, with a pinch of happiness thrown in for good measure?

I sure as hell hope that when I am standing in front of God, that he says I was a child of His and that my life was not a waste. I can only hope that is what he says. Or at least I dream He says it too me.
__________________________________________________________________________
It is a real rant from someone whom is obviously in some distress over the situation. Now let me ask you, do you think it might be a wonderful idea for me to post something of my own reflection and memories of Melissa? I am not sure I can, I would be interested in your feedback.
Melanie

As I lay here in my hospital bed, I am getting ready for my final journey. I have fought the good fight and won my victory. I know that I will soon se my sister Jenn. She is in Heaven waiting for me with my Lord.

I know that I may not survive the upcoming surgery, but that's alright, I have left instructions for Melanie Dixon to be contacted in case of my demise. She will know what to do, as I have kept my may correspondences with my friends here at Big Closet. So, she will know my choice of who to ask to help post any new chapters.

If God chooses to have me stay here on the Earth, I know that I will thrive, because I have overcome my past, my future is bright. Yes, I went through hell on Earth, but I am now, Heaven bound. I hope that my many friends here in the Big Closet that I have met, and those who read my story later will go to Heaven, too.

***********************

I Can Only Imagine
Copywrite 2008 © Prairie_girl_64 Melissa Dawn Northe

I can only imagine a world without hate and prejudice.

I can only imagine a world without disease and illness.

I can only imagine a world without famine.

I can only imagine a world without pollution.

I can only imagine a world full of love.

I can only imagine a world full of faith.

I can only imagine a world full of acceptance.

I can only imagine a world full of peace.

I can only imagine a world full of laughter.

I can only imagine a world full of healing.

I can only imagine a world full of joy.

I can only imagine a world full of singing.

I can only imagine a world full of family.

I can only imagine a world full of excitement.

I can only imagine a world full of all of the above and then some as this world has a lot of inspiration.

I can only imagine a world where we as a human race embrace what we hold to be in our hearts and maintain our true selves.

I can only imagine that we all live healthy lives and never die.

I can only imagine that this would be true.

*********************************************

Melissa and Melanie, reading this poem made me cry as I read the poem. What you described is truly Heaven. Melissa, your Light is Forever shining as a Beacon of Hope for your friends. .
May Your Light Forever Shine
Stanman63

A life I once knew... now at an end

****************************************

Dear Readers, I located this final piece in Mellissa's journal on her laptop. I speculate as I read this, that she knew her time was up and that the lord called her home. As I read this it is a brief reminder of what her life was like and what she went through, it shall be a testament to her. She wanted to post this however; she was unable to do so. I will post this for her and in hopes that her brief time on Big Closet will have been a meaning one. I wish to thank those on Big Closet for her, as she wrote with passion and conviction of her life story. She shall be missed. This is dedicated to all those who suffered from pain and abuse and have found a way to get through life with strength and dignity. Thank You.
Melanie Dixon, June 14th 2008
===========================================

I was brought to bare a heavy burden to those I thought I knew.

I was wronged by all those I thought I could trust.

I was poisoned by the one I thought I loved.

I was beaten and battered, like no other should.

I have felt the pain of rape, which I thought I could never escape.

I found the desire to live and try as I sat and cried.

I found life hard to live and wanted to die.

I knew I was not strong, but kind, I was punished.

I gained strength once I left; I knew it would not last.

I gained life experience, and more pain.

I battled through at my bodies cost.

My Spirit broken and Lost.

My strength at an end, I leave you now as I knew.

My Spirit found, hope found, I knew I was going home.

I now love my life, A tragedy now passed.

My hope reigns eternal as I myself pass.

Life is my strength, not weakness, I proved it, and I lost in the end.

A life I once knew and now at an end, I leave you all in peace.

God Bless

Mellissa N. June 8, 2008

****************************

Admin's Note:In Memory of Mellissa, all of us at BigCloset TopShelf will forever remember you in both living memory and in your words. Your life, your love, and your work here had meaning and is very much loved. May your soul find its journey in peace and may, one day, in another life; we meet again and pick up where we have left off. For your story never ends...

Sephrena Lynn Miller