My grandma was born in Tschatali, Hungry (Csatalja) she always sought solutions in difficult times, and she put many at ease with her demeanour. She died when I was five, and my life hasn’t been the same ever sense. My story is not special. It starts on the streets of America where we all suffer. The year was 1976 Las Vegas, Nevada. On a cold winter night, there stood a small home on circle drive, an average quiet street. Through the window, you could see a Christmas tree decorated with the simplicity of pine cones. It was Christmas Eve, my mother the youngest of eight was preparing dinner. My father Richard searched the refrigerator for a cold beer. Mom asked him where he was last night. This is all it took, not just this night but most every night. Richard slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. “Who I see, where I go, and what I do is none of your god damn business.” Mom lifted her head high and did her best not to show fear, even as tears dripped from her chin. When she turned to leave the room he grabbed her by the hair and hit her repeatedly, she fell against the Christmas tree, pine cones falling to the ground. He threw a beer bottle at her; it shattered mirroring the way she felt inside, broken. Mom tried to get away, but Richards hard fingers pierced her flesh, he dragged her into the bedroom, throwing her unto the bed like a rag doll. Down the road on circle drive, you could hear my mom’s screams in the distance. This was the night I was conceived.
I was grew up in Sierra vista, Arizona. I was born blue; the umbilical cord had been wrapped around my neck at birth. The cold autumn sun streamed through the window. Mom looked tired and broken. She had no place to call her own so she lived with my aunt.
I blocked the sun from my eyes watching my uncle climb down a ladder from the roof of an old tool shed. He whistled a happy tune. “Hey there!” he said. “I’ve got something to show you!” The shed was dark; he closed the door behind us. I was unable to see anything but the light streaming through the crack beneath the shed door. He began to take my clothes off. I told him I wanted my grandma. He placed me unto his naked lap. I was frightened. His disgusting trembling hands explored me. My eyes were adjusting to the dark. I was seeing things I wasn’t even allowed to watch on TV. I felt something inside me die as he spread my legs apart over his thighs. The pain came; I screamed and cried ‘till I couldn’t breathe. His grimy