I was running out of option living with my abusive family. I come to realized that I needed help before I either kill myself or run away. If you have read from my other previous hubs, I had suffer through a lot of rapes and physical abuse with my family. I was dead serious about suiciding. I wanted that taste of freedom and be able to live happily with some other family.

Department of Social Service (DSS)

I can't believe I got the social service involved in my family matters?! What I was hoping from them was a way to place me in a foster home. I remember we use to live in a neighborhood ran by this huge guy. He made his foster children do a big ass load of mowing the grass for hours?! I mean, these kids don't even look like they're 10 years old?! I didn't care about the workload, I am always a hard working child. I grew up doing most of the family's cooking, washing dishes, laundry, and babysitting my baby sis at the age of 7. And to think there's 9 of us altogether?! Phew!

It must of been so uncomfortable for my siblings to discuss this family secret with DSS. I believe some of them must of given them some more detail with what's going on in the house. Because we were going to be interviewed individually again by them. My dad was so mad at us, that he tried to brainwash us and make us tell a different story as if none of it has ever happened. I remember him saying, that we'll end up like them foster kids working out there in the heat. I got mad with him and stormed out of the room.

The Dude, The Ass, and The Blonde

There DSS had a this blonde headed lady, say her name was Betty on our case. She was really sweet and patient with me. She said for this case to have any further evidence, all of my other 6 siblings had to tell their side of the abuse. I of course, object to it. There was no reason to get them involved since me being the black sheep of the family got it the worse. But rules are rules, I was desperate for help.

That was the last time I saw Betty, before she got promoted. So, there was a new guy assigned to my case. He wasn't much of a help. In fact he quit this case in just three days. What an asshole.

And things couldn't get any worse once they had assigned the most nuckleheaded social worker for us. Mr. Curly was so damn hard headed! He talks to me as if I was some 4 year old who made all this abuse up. He wanted evidence of abuse. Of course I wouldn't show him my ass, but I did show him this scar below my knee. My mom had cut the side of my leg that has a blackhead and broke a battery and used its acid burn to remove it. I also had the same scar on my eyebrows. He looked at me like it's no big deal. So I was like, my dad! His way of punishment was to knock me and my brothers head together for disputing over a game. And there was another time when he held my head down and slaps hard at the back to help with a headache. Mr. Curly was like, he didn't do that to hurt you, but to help you. So he asked me how hard my parents hit. I wanted to knock him out to prove it! I even mentioned about the rapes I have had to which my mom didn't bother with it at the time. I was so desperate to leave the house that I told him I was seriously going to suicide. That didn't work either! To make matters worse, he was going to spill the secret of me being raped?! I wasn't no where ready to confront to anyone about that yet!? He told my dad that I had a big secret to tell him and that he needed to confront me about it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!

What does a girl like me have to do to get out of this mad house of pain!

Well, if you have read my previous hub of my lovely visit to the psych ward, that's where I was headed. It didn't matter, as long as I was safe from harm and have shelter. No thanks to Mr. Curly! But staying in the hospital gave me the option to move on to a foster home that I longed for a loving family.

I was later reassigned with Betty who was the first person to treat me to a fancy restaurant for my b-day. I was all blushing and buried my head under the table when those waitress came to sing a big happy birthday to me. She even came with me and help me get situated with my first foster mom. I'll never forget Betty for helping me out.

I have waaaay more details to discuss about my foster homes. Not one, or two but three different foster homes I had lived through. Let's save it for the next hub, if you're interested?