My mother, who seemed to be afraid of my father, threatened me all the time with telling my father when I did anything wrong. It seemed to me like she didn't want his ugly moods taken out on her.

My father would come home from work every night between five and five-thirty. The air would always be tense until everyone knew what kind of mood he was in. I was scared of him, so I'd wait in my room until it was time to sit down for supper, which was as soon as he got home, and it had to be meat and potatoes or casseroles.

One night when I was between eight and ten years old, my brother and I had gone to bed. We had watched something on TV about shooting, and when we got upstairs, I said to him, 'Be quiet or I'll take a gun and shoot you.' I was playing around with him. My father heard what I said and told me to repeat it. I was petrified and told him 'nothing' He came upstairs and asked again, and I gave him the same reply. He took off his belt and asked again. I then told him what I had said. He told me to pull up my nightgown and lay over his lap. I wouldn't, so he got angrier and pulled it up and started hitting me. He didn't stop at a couple of hits; he continued until he had left welts all over my body. I cried and cried -- I didn't understand. My mother came home later from being out, and my father told her what he did to me. She came upstairs and told me my father had been crying downstairs and asked her to check on me. She told me I never should have said that, and I needed to apologize to my father.

Another time when I was really young, camping with my family, I was playing darts with one of my friends. I threw one and it hit her in the ankle. I felt bad and she started to cry. My father heard the crying, came out, saw what had happened and took his belt off and started beating me with it in front of everyone. My friend's mother came and got me and took me into their tent for the night.

My father used to degrade me in front of my friends, yanking me by my hair, taking off his belt, saying things about my wetting the bed (which I did until I was thirteen years old).

My whole entire life I have been terrified of him. I was never good enough. Many nights I cried myself to sleep, pounding my head into the wall, pulling my hair out, screaming, 'I hate you,' into the pillow. It seemed all he had time to say to me growing up was, 'wipe that smirk/smile off your face or I'll wipe it off for you,' 'Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about' etc. If my father had a kind word for me, I honestly do not remember it. My birthdays and the holidays were always ruined by his ugly moods. I never remember him saying that he loved me or holding me.

When I would wet the bed, I was so scared, I'd get up and hide the sheets in the washer and remake it and go back to sleep.

As I got older, I started smoking cigarettes, then pot/hash and taking speed and drinking. I hid it all really well, only doing it when my family went out somewhere or when I was working on a farm doing summer work. I hated myself and my life and I didn't care if I lived or died.

My mother and my father destroyed every ounce of my self-esteem. Between hitting me with a belt, slapping my face, pulling my hair, throwing me into walls, hitting me with yardsticks, belts, or whatever else was handy; humiliating me in front of people and telling others I was no good; I become a rock on the outside. I still craved attention I was never able to get, but I .also believed I was not good enough for anyone or anything.

When I was seventeen, I was raped by a man. I had no-one to turn to. Through the help of a teacher/friend, I was able to talk about it, but it was still a secret that I had to hold inside and it hurt . . .

After graduation, I wanted to move out. My father threw me on his bed and shook me and told me I wasn't moving. Thank God for college (which my mother didn't think I was smart enough for); it got me away from them finally.

I quit college, began drinking and sleeping with many men. I was scared that if I didn't, they would rape me. I also felt I wasn't good enough for anything else and it was the only kind of affection I deserved.