I realized I couldn’t depend on someone who’s always drunk to do everything for me. I kind of have to do it for myself, so as I matured, I became very cold, calculating and very logical. None of us in the family get along today. Let’s put it this way, they would all vote for Donald Trump if they could.

I came out to my mom when I was thirteen. I said “Mom, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think I’m a girl. I like girls things and do girl-like things.” And she said “We’re not going to talk about this ever again.” And we never did, until last year. It was terrifying to hear that. She thought I was going to hell. She’s a pentecostal christian. For the longest time, usually when she was hammered, she’d walk up to me and say “It’s ok, I accept you if you’re gay, just come out.” I felt like “Ok, but when I came out as female she couldn’t accept me.”

I guaranteed my mom that at the age of eighteen I’m out. That day, that minute I turned 18, I moved out with friends. When I was twenty, I visited my boyfriend’s house. He was living with a friend of his, Angel, and her fiance. I liked their place and asked if I could move in with them. Everything got along for several months. I was working door to door selling security systems and cable tv packages. Since everyone was chipping in to the house needs, things were working out well.

“I gave him a warning, ‘Don’t ever hit her again or you will not like it.’ I interfered and broke two of his ribs, parts of his arms and fingers. He had it coming.”