I remember being told how special I was. No one like me as men held me down and raped me in front of a chanting audience. The men belonged to a sect of the biker gang hells angels called the grim reapers. I was being "made ready" at the ripe age of 4. My womb would usher in the dark lord. There were rabbits and chickens sacrificed over me and I was painted in their blood. It was because I was born out of incest during a ritual. My mother had no idea, all she knew was she was up for a good time and a party. My father was a cult participant. I would be abused for several years. When I went to kindergarten they gave us clay to mold an object. My "bear" was an anatomically correct penis which got social workers involved. When my mom brought me home she asked me if I knew the difference between girls and boys. I told her I knew because of the dead girl. I tried to show her because she didn't believe me. I told her the army man showed me. When she took me to where the body was, it was gone and she nearly turned us around to go back home until I told her the army man probably took her. She still didn't believe me until I took her I to the woods that led to what I thought was an army base kids and the man took us younger kids to. Not only did she believe me, we packed up and moved that very day. A few days earlier I was blamed for burning down the woods behind the house. The boys who were teens at the time and one very famous kidnapping victim were our handlers. After doing research I narrowed down a missing/cold case file that correlates with the dead girl. After seeing her picture, I am 100% sure she was the one used to keep me silent. I also found the "army base" was actually a reserve armory. Another threat made to us kid to keep us quiet was rather packing company. A slaughterhouse for hiogs, we were told if we spoke about what was happening we would be fed to the pigs and never found. My childhood memories all fall on a timeline that i have researched to back up these memories. I was afraid that they weren't my own, I'll get to that later. I was removed from my mothers care at age 6. She left me for weeks behind a junkyard in the country to starve. I wound up living with family. I suppressed a lot of my childhood once I was in a stable home but my odd behaviour and my level of communicating with adults had me in therapy very young. I was on my way to becoming a sociopath. Throwing desks and chairs in school. Nonstop fighting, I even got expelled for stabbing a teacher with a pair of scissors. I did calm down for awhile. Music was my release. I picked up playing piano by ear and could play anything I heard once. Still, I could not socialize with kids my age. I also began developing very early as well. By the time I was 11 I was already in a c cup and an object to men all around me. Because of my grades and me becoming unmanageable to my aging grandparents who also were my aunt and uncle. I was placed in foster care. I did really well, my grades came up, I began to develop empathy and for a year at age 13 my life was normal. Then I was raped at a lazier light show. When police came not boy did they have my name, but the offenders name because we got busted for selling those glow in the dark necklaces without a vendors license. Instead of investigating, I was put in the adult holding cell after being drugged with ketamine for hours with disgusting drunk men. The cops asked me what I was wearing (same white sweatshirt and sweatpants) then they asked me if he had ejaculated, being 13 I hadn't even heard of the term, it wasn't until they asked me if he had cum I even knew what they were talking about. I was thrown in to a detention center. A few weeks later after I got out, I went to a beach bonfire with my best friend. Through the woods came a man. It was my detention center social worker. He said he wanted to talk to me so we left the group. I thought he was bringing me back in, instead he told me I had one of two choices, get on my knees or get locked up. I ran, he caught me and again I was raped. This social worker knew me from when I was little. He used to show up at 11:00 pm for "safety checks" where he would solicit my mom and offer her cocaine. She thought it was a trap and never indulged. I remember while he was raping me he told me he had kept his eye on me for years and knew I would belong to him someday. The next day I was shipped off to a group home. I reported it and all I got for my efforts was a sentence. I was never convicted of crimes or even considered delinquent at the time but from age 13 to age 18 I was locked up to keep me silent. That's the short version of my life. I won't go into details of the abuse because that would mean reliving it. Its hard enough to be nearly 40 and still wake up crying and soaking from nightsweats and night terrors. In the group homes I was put on several medications. They prescribed antipsychotics and antidepressants. However, I was not psychotic and almost 5 years of meds changed me. It took me years to get off the scripts after having a mental breakdown. I attempted suicide and was hospitalized several times due to my self destructive programming. And that's what it was. Being told from birth you will be the mother of the Antichrist gives a person one hell of a complex. Knowing that the only reason you were born out of twisted roots made it seem so truthful when I was told how worthless and discardable I was. For years I was angry for losing my childhood to being locked up and figured I deserved it. When the group homes put us under hypnosis and i would come out of it in a closet. Or the guided imagery groups where we were made to pretend that we were on the outside looking down at ourselves being abused. At first I thought my early childhood memories were implanted through suggestion. It wasn't until I had a very long conversation with my mother that I realize that my memories were mine and 100% authentic. To this day I think I only survived because of my anarchist roots. I had always had a problem with authority. I had no fear. What can a person fear if every horrible imagining has already happened? The only thing left for anyone to do at this point is take me out of this life and put me to rest. Not remotely a threat. I wish I could be like others and bounce back. I wish I could look people in the eye, but I can't. I wish I could trust but I don't trust myself most times. The only thing that gets me through is other survivors. I don't see myself as a victim. To be a victim means I relinquished my power and that is all I have left. I was being groomed for my musical abilities, my quick wit and sharp mind. I believe that the powers that be tried everything to break me. I'm just fractured, but not broken. I still fight battles, its just now they seem to all be in my mind. The voice over in my head that tells me I am worthless is a motherfucker. I just wanted to share my story because this has been happening for decades. I move often enough not to get to deeply embedded in the grid. 6 months max at any home. Any longer and for some reason social workers show up. In fact I was founded for child abuse with zero evidence and it took me 2 years and being my own attorney to appeal it through the Iowa supreme court. I won and it was overturned. Ever since I left Iowa I have struggled. The most random bullshit seems to happen. I realize now that for all the freedom I thought I had, its an illusion. If I stay in one place too long events take place and I seem to have to work my way up from the bottom. I know its an effort to destroy my psyche. To make me question my own existence, to make me feel helpless, all it does is piss me off and makes me buck harder. I refuse to be their statistic or plaything anymore. Maybe when people finally start getting locked up, maybe, just maybe I won't constantly be looking over my shoulder. One good thing about the state raising me was what it taught me. I've read countless books and educated myself in many subjects. It was the pedogate scandal breaking that gave me back my sense of self. It was correlating my childhood with documented events that helped me realize the lie I have lived was scripted. I know that social worker still works for dhs. Thankfully one of the fosterhomes that used to record us kids in the bathroom and shower is no longer fostering kids. At this point I understand the statute of limitations. I still wonder though since it was reported in the time frame yet nothing was done if there is still an option. That POS doesn't need to be any where near kids, period. So, this is my life..