My Life, My Lie

In the devils world Chaos rules, Satan is an inspiration and love knows no existence. Light is extinguished like a flickering candle on the back of cool breeze, and the warmth of life disappears to be replace by cold and terror, and dark shadows hovering like vultures, silently waiting, invading your dreams, your thoughts, your soul. Destroying your very being. Everything you are and everything you thought you could be.

Heaven I have not seen, Hell I have lived.



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I was the smallest, I was the youngest, I was the innocent with gorgeous deep blue eyes, thick jet black eyelashes and hair with pale skin, all thanks to my Italian heritage which I received from my dad, but I guess, not everything can stay the same.

To look back on my life, is like watching a graphic, violent horror movie while your falling asleep; the feeling that you don’t want to watch what your seeing, but your body has control over you, your eyes glued open, waiting and wanting to see what comes next. For myself though, it’s a movie marathon that I can not break away from, tormenting me every night with the sounds and touches that I wish I could escape.

Welcome to my life.

I was seven when it first happened, my big brother, (whom looked nothing like myself as he had thin sandy blonde hair and green eyes) and our cousin were babysitting me (as they often did while our parents went out somewhere). At first I was excluded from everything they did, they would lock me in my pink Barbie doll room so I couldn’t even watch T.V. Then one time they asked me to come out and play a game with them. My memory is still very vague, but I do recall that I had my favorite nightie on, pink with Garfield and Ottos on it. I remember because I still see there sweaty teenage dirty hands pulling it out the way so they could shove their fingers between my thighs.

‘Remember this is our game, our little secret. Our mum and dad can’t know. Our secret, ok?’

That’s what my brother told me, that it was a game. I am ashamed to say this but I continued to play their games, every time we were left alone it seemed that we would share this disgraceful secret again, and I was happy to play along, sometimes I even sneaked into their rooms, just to be included in something one more time, just to be welcomed by my brother whom I looked up to and admired, and that made me feel secure, and what more does a child want?

As I grew older, the games also grew more intense and confusing. I started becoming aware of the situations that I was getting into and the pain that was scarring me. It was when I had to learn new ‘rules’ of the game. I would find myself holding their cocks in my hand and stroking and pulling them, being fascinated by the way they laid back and smiled, commenting on how good it felt. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was good at it , and that was all I cared about. Despite I doing everything they told me to they soon became rough, shoving my head into their laps and telling me to suck. This is where I started to fight back, but what hope does a young child have against two guys?

One night, almost two years after the life-altering game began, I was dragged from the safety of my bedroom and the cuddles from my soft toys to the couch that had been folded out to form a bed. I was screaming and kicking with all my might, but I had no hope, my cousin was holding me down yelling at me to shut up while my brother shoved his cock inside of me. The pain shot up through me like a bolt of lightening. I burst into tears as I lay there watching my naked brother fuck me. I still hear my cousin saying before he had his turn

‘don’t stay in there too long, or she’ll end up pregnant.’

You see one minor detail I have forgotten to tell, is that my brother is only three years older than me, and my cousin four years. So they too, from what I am guessing only had a small knowledge of what they were doing to me.

Thankfully my mother noticed the carpet burn down my back and legs the next day and made sure that myself and my brother were not left alone again.

My parents still have no idea what their precious first born did to me, as I always keep my secrets to myself, until the game is over…

Life continued as any normal child’s would. I went through primary school as an A grade student. Had my own close circle of friends and started discovering who I was and what I wanted in life. Apart from being one of the shortest people my age that I know of, I was just an average kid, got my fair share of bullies, of course this was mainly due to my height and my speech (thank you dad for that Italian blood). Although at the time being pushed around by people uglier and bigger then myself would have been the worst part of each day, I have found that being the victim made me stronger, it taught me to stand up for myself. Which I did, even when the enemy was me.

My brother, whom once was torturer, couldn’t just watch me as I got beat up at school, and as he was no longer there to protect me (he was now in high school), he started teaching me how to fight. I couldn’t be more thankful either. Knowing that I could protect myself was what I needed to give me confidence.


All my time through primary school I was a shy little girl, you know, the one that sits in the corner or under the tree reading her book, the invisible girl. I was her. Then I was 13 and in the first year of high school. I knew I wanted to change, I wasn’t happy with who I was or how I was surviving, so I set out to start again. Looking back I don’t know how I ended up the friends or the life I got, but I don’t regret it, because you cant change the past, so why bother wishing you could?

My brother was already smoking cigarettes, pot and every other drug he could afford, and also getting in and out of shit with the cops, because of this everyone knew him, parents and kids alike, they knew him and they knew I was his little sis, and living in a small town like mine there isn’t much else to do but create your own fun, which often leaves you with a heavy hangover the next day. Myself and another chick became best friends, inseparable. Her name was Jamie, and a tomboy through and through. She was also half aboriginal, myself I am not a racist, far from it, but my loving family is.

My mother ‘banned’ me from seeing her, apparently she knew Jamie’s parents and that they were trouble and so of course that means so are the kids. My father told me that if I ever brought her around he would get out his guns and shoot her. My brother was either never home or too stoned to care. So I relied upon myself to come to a solution, my mother was/is a nurse at the local hospital and use to work night juty, (started at 8:30pm and got back home at 7:30am), so at 9pm I would grab a jacket and walk straight out the house and meet up with Jamie. (My father would be in bed by 8pm and you couldn’t wake him up. )I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to be free to make my own choices.--which I believe is everyone’s right.

At first we would just walk around for little while gossiping and thinking of all the shit we could do, then go back home. Then a year or so later Jamie introduced me to all her mates. They were all aboriginal, male and all drug fucked. This sort of life I would soon call my own. They made me one of them.

Almost every night after meeting ‘the boyz’ I would sneak out of home and meet up with them, this is where I first tried gunja(pot) I fell in love with it, just the way it made everything, disappear. I know it doesn’t, coz the problems are just waiting there for you when you wake up, but being able to relax and forget everything was a blessing. I soon started getting into heavier drugs, finding myself the next day at school still high or coming down, which was worse.




A year after being so off my face I still cant remember my all high school days, me and boyz were planning a party for my sweet 16th. And just like we had planned, it turned out to be a night I would never forget.

It started out as every day, went to school for half the day, walked the 15mins home and got changed. I shoved a heap of clothes into my bag then left. I had told my mum that I was staying at a friends place. (it was my real birthday the day before so I was ‘allowed’ to go out) I met up with Jamie and the rest of the guys, whom one, with dark brown eyes and black braided hair and a smile that make you weak at the knees was now my boyfriend. Mitchell and I spent most of the afternoon just lazing around the house watching movies. It was just after 6pm when I got the msg. It was from the guy I got my drugs from. He said he wanted his money back.

I had been warned not to get into any debts when you do drugs, but the two of them go together like Romeo and Juliet; perfect match, and just like Romeo and Juliet, you end up dead.

I had been gathering every cent I could for months, from money mum gave for me for school to odd jobs that I could get. I knew that I owed a lot and the payment date wouldn’t always be in the future. Including all my birthday money and my savings I had put together almost $300 I needed another $200, I had to ask Mitchell as my last resort. He gave me the money along with a kiss and a hug, then I left.
I was not scared of my dealer, in fact we were actually good mates, thus the reason I was allowed to run up such a debt. But one thing everyone knows, whether a sober one or not when it comes to this kinda business, drugs are thicker than blood.

When I walked inside his house, the immediate smell of gunja hit me and soaked into my skin. He was sitting on the couch opposite to wear I was standing, his baggy jeans looked like they were being held together by the all the dirt, a white tank top outlined his muscular body and made his bulging shoulders and bi-ceps grab your attention. His eyes always what stood out to me though, they were grey, not hazel or light blue but a misty grey colour that pierced through you and made your blood run cold. He was half aboriginal, half white, so he also had the tan that every female dreams of and black hair that was rolled into dreadlocks reaching just passed his ears.

He stood up and just starred blankly at me, as if I was a small bug that didn’t belong. I handed him the money, but instead of taking it he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm around my back.

He whispered into my ear with his deep husky voice,

‘I don’t want the money.’

My gut twisted and felt like it weighed a tone, I knew instantly I was in deep shit. I started thrashing my body around out of pure survival instinct, I ended up kneeing him in the balls to make him let go of me, but when I ran for the door there were three guys I had never seen before blocking me from my freedom. One of them punched me and knocked me out cold.

I woke up dazed and confused on the floor with my clothes being ripped off of me. I could feel strong sweaty hands holding both my arms straight out above my head, I tried to fight to free them but it was no use, realized my wrists were tied together. I could not see this guy but the others were in front of me, smiling.

One, a white guy with brown hair and only small built had his head down and was trying remove my pants and my undies, which he ended up ripping out of frustration. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me, and all over again. I laid there trying to scream but nothing would break the silence. Tears were rolling down the side of my face as I watched them work together to destroy my life, they moved around like they knew what they were doing, they had planned what they were going to do, or I wasn’t the first for them to claim.

I was picked up my dealer and thrown onto the bed where I noticed the 4th guy setting up a camera on a shelf. A trophy to keep after they were finished. They took turns fucking me anyway they could. They threw my body around as if I was just a rag doll there for their amusement. The pain was excruciating and shot all through my body. When I thought it was over, it started again, he was on top of me thrusting his cock back into me, he kept his face so close to mine, nose to nose, his piercing green eyes would look away, and neither could I. I felt numb all through my body, I didn’t know what to think or what to do.

‘Dealer’ finally told them all to fuck off and get something to eat. After everything that had happened he wanted to eat! He knelt down next to the bed and told me that if I ever forget them or tell anyone what happened, they will come back and do it again and again and he’ll bring more of his friends.

Those are my last memories of that night, I think I must have passed out, I awoke the next in the same bed, battered, bruised and numb, not knowing what to think. I do not know how long I stayed curled up in a corner of that room, but eventually with a blanket wrapped around me, I worked up the courage to leave my safe spot. I found a phone and rang Jamie.

I did not tell her what had happened, instead of the truth I said that I got totally smashed of some shit and couldn’t remember anything. Everyone started asking questions, as it was my birthday party and I didn’t even show up. I made up the same story I told Jamie, and I eventually told it as if it was second nature, as if my life depended on it.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and I was trapped back on the same day, reliving it every time I closed my eyes. I soon become depressed and tried taking my own life. I tried slitting my wrists more times than I can count, and almost succeeded a couple times, if I didn’t start thinking of my Parents.

By this time I was never home, my family seemed like they didn’t even exist, I pushed them away and I liked it liked that. I started getting even heavier on drugs, almost to the point of no return. The pain of almost O.D’ing was unbearable, your stomach is literally exploding inside of you, I told myself that next time I would do it properly. .

It was one night that I finally saw what I was doing to myself. It was a usual night of getting drunk and stoned when all of a sudden everyone started screaming, everything happened so fast. Kaylee, a close friend of mine started going into seizures and throwing up. Amongst all the drunks a ambulance was called, but it was too late, I along with others watched my friend O.D. That’s when I realized I had to stop.

I moved back home and put myself in my own personal rehab. My family still don’t know why I changed so much, they blame hormones and trouble fitting in at school. I let them think that, I didn’t want to disappoint them anymore then I already had. I got clean on my own. I ditched all my old mates which were involved with drugs and went cold turkey. It was incredibly hard, but I did it. I have been clean since New Year’s Eve 2005. Except for the occasional joint, but that just makes me remember why I quit.

I know, besides all that I have been through, have a loving boyfriend who I have been with for almost 2years, met him just after I went clean. We have had a lot of hard times, all to do with my past, but we work through them. He knows my past, and has helped me through everything, even got information from a lawyer about where I would stand in both cases.(As I did not report either incidents) but I just can’t do it. I do not believe I am ready to face them again, and with my brother and cousin, I do not think they remember what happened; convinced themselves it was all just a bad dream. But I have a life now, started with another clean slate, and hopefully now my dream of being happy and helping others with similar pasts will come true.

I do not refer to myself as a survivor, for I am not. I am still fighting, still learning, still wishing for that day;

...I can see the end of the movie.