“First, I’d like to say thank you for taking the time to listen to what I have to say. It’s been four years, seven months, three weeks, and one day since this circus started. I will be more than grateful when I get to put this experience behind me. I have waited for this day since August 25^th, 2010. It’s been more than infuriating to have to wait this long to finally get a say, to be heard, to actually have control over my life and the people influencing it.

This impact statement is supposed to be written to the courts to detail the effects that these depraved acts have caused. Well, this could take a while. Let me take you back to the summer of 1997, I was nine nearly ten the first time I was abused. While my mother worked two jobs to pay the bills and put food on the table, we were under his constant supervision. After recently moving here from my grandparents’ house in MS, I was trying to adjust to the new rules and lifestyle of the family.

While I have nothing against rules and structure, I seemed to have a tough time conforming to the cruel and unusual habits he had created. Several rules were, I was not allowed to have friends at my house nor was I allowed to go to anyone's house, ever. School was considered a privilege so therefore on a whim he could decide that particular day, I didn’t need to go. I would have to stay home and do work in the yard, cleaning, finding tools, mending fences, etc. When I did go to school, I was expected to do chores before schoolwork, yet nothing less than a B+ was acceptable on my report cards.'' I was in trouble a lot. Trying to get all these rules right was made impossible on purpose. I could never get anything right, and he was always doing strange things for punishments. Writing thousands of sentences, not getting to go to bed until things were done, standing in the corner with my head pressed against it until my nose bled. Getting whipped with the belt buckle, push-ups, and leg lifts until I was sick. Having to start over if I stopped.

That’s when he came to me with a proposal, a Deal, an agreement that could get me out of these punishments and earn special privileges, such as having friends over, or fewer chores. At nine years old I was interested in what I could do to get out of trouble or have a friend from school come over! Little did I know, and much to my dismay, what this “deal” was going to entail. This was not any kind of agreement that any child at any age should have to consent to. I declined. I said NO, but to think that I actually had a choice was a mistake that will forever haunt me.