Dear Lisa:

For the rest of the parts I will use the first person.

Part Two:

My parents, unmarried teenagers, were inconvenienced by my conception yet, the growing fetus in my mother’s uterus was not given much thought. When born, that baby was handed to some foster home in another state. Forgotten. Six months later, my grandmother chose to bring the forgotten one home.

As a child I was lead to believe that my grandparents were my parents and that my  mother, aunts and uncles- my siblings. I was a young child and my “siblings” were in their teens and twenties. There were lots of fighting between the siblings and parents. When fights broke off, the screaming and yelling went on and on. The noise terrified me.

Help me, someone, help me

I stayed in my room, closed the door, then blocked it so that no one could enter. I stayed there, my little heart beating fast, my breathing shallow, dizzy, falling, no one to catch me.

No one checked on me; no one helped