Six years old. In a foster home. Lying in bed. My foster dad came in with his friends. It was only last year that I realized they had raped me. I barely remember it from the drugs. But the pain still haunts me. It hurts more knowing what could've happened in the parts I don't remember. Seven years old. Still in foster care- just a new home. I was the second oldest, and the oldest I was really close to. Well I found his body. He killed himself. He couldn't take the abuse anymore. Eight years old. New foster home. I made a new friend. He killed himself. I had something from him. A note, everything. My foster family found it and make me watch as they burned it. I'm now 17 years old. Life is pretty shitty. I'm adopted in a bad home still. CPS cannot do their job right. I have a horrible eating disorder from being starved and forced to eat, I've been in the hospital more times than I can remember. And I'm always told this is my fault. So here's my message to anyone struggling: It's okay to cry. It's okay to realize your fears. It isn't okay to blame yourself. You cannot blame yourself for anything. People say "God has everything happen for a reason." Do not believe that. Because there is no point in having you be in this pain. And people will say, "God gives His worst battles to His strongest soldiers." You don't have to be a soldier for you to get through this. If you've gone this far, you have hidden strength. You can do this.