Twenty eight percent. That's how many children are physically abused in the U.S. every year. Twenty percent are sexually abused, ten percent emotionally abused, nine percent are physically neglected, and fourteen percent are emotionally neglected. I’m friends with a girl who was abused in all these way, this is her story.

  Once Upon A Time, No that’s not what this is, This is reality. Wake up. Wake up child. Don’t dream of that.
This story starts  with a newborn baby girl, with me. My name is Wolf, i was born in kansas to what you think is a normal family. My first memories are what you'd expect of a child, playing in the yard, laughing with my family. But as i turn seven things take a turn to the dark side.

More and more often my mom would come home to my father trying to kill me. He’d be choking me, lips blue and all i could say to her as i gasp for breath is “ It's not his fault mommy, please don't cry” My childhood was filled with holes and riddles of things that couldn't be solved. As i grew up i remembered things, things a thirteen year old shouldn't remember. I cut to wipe away those memories, to burn the HATE from my mind i burned it into my flesh.

I was beaten for standing in the wrong place, for speaking up, for loving other people. I was yelled at for every little thing i didn't do or if i did something wrong. I spent most nights curled in a ball trying, Begging myself to wake up from this nightmare. Yet i hadn't fallen asleep. I had convinced myself that it was all just a bad dream.
I never had any friends, or family that i trusted. After seven it all fell apart, my best friend left, my memories turned black, the sun inside of me died. Because one night my father, drunk, looked for company in my bed.
These things I remember are the only testimony i have left, these scars i hide are the battles I've lost. Yet people still say he's a good man, he loves you, you had a great childhood. Don’t you dare tell me these things! I say the same things to myself before i fall asleep at night, only to be sucked into the same shadow of horror.
He did unbearable things to me, yet you defend him, you faceless ghosts, yes i’m still alive. I still breath in the air you all do, i still have warmth in this fleshy prison, but i'm untrusting, unforgiving, lost, broken, I'm just that same little girl. I refuse to stay silent any longer, I will not defend him.

What can you say to me Daddy? What can you say to make this better? You can't say you love me anymore, because i stopped believing in lies like that when i was seven. I grew up and became what holds my family together even as i fall apart, because to me my family is more important than my selfish needs. I was an adult when i was seven, I don't know why you hated me, why you beat me, or why you raped me. I just want all those other lost little boys and girls to know that some of us will grow up, some of us will prevail, we will grow up stronger than before. This isn't the end. Hush child were all here for you, we will be your family from now on.

With love,
Wolf.xoxo

Please take her story and remember it dads when you go to hit your daughter next, when you go to hit her mother. We are out there and we know what you are doing, what you did. We are watching, and we will stop you. We are the Voices of the Broken.