I have been a cutter for 4 years, but the problems that led up to my cutting and burning began when I was much younger. I was 3 1/2 years old when my father passed away. A few months after he passed away, my mother, my oldest sister and I moved to the small town of Ocala, Florida to 6900 NE 1st pl. While living here my mother was working 4 jobs, so as you can imagine she wasn't home very often, therefore it was my sister and I home alone. When upset she would turn her wrath on me. She would abuse me. Pulling my arm up between my shoulder blades, pushing me agaist the back of the couch in which had staples sticking out the back stabbing into my stomach. She would sit on my stomach digging her knee into my throat and choking me with her bare hands. She constantly found a way to hurt me without getting caught. This went on for 8 years. Then my mother quit her jobs and ended up becoming an alchoholic, going to bars and hooking up with random guys, while my sister would be at home letting random guys into the house, taking them to her bedroom, getting stoned, then fucking them. When we finally moved from there, I thought it would get better, It didn't. We moved to the small town of Citra, Florida. My sister got into the drugs twice as bad while her and my mother both continued to drink heavily every day and night. I would walk to my friends house just to get away, if none of them were home, I would walk around the neighbourhood. I was only 12years old at this point. I came home from a friends house one day, when I walked through the door my mother looked at me and asked "Where the hell have you been?!" I told her where I was and she choked me up against the wall screaming at me with rancid Southern Comfort Whiskey covered breath. When she finally let me down I ran out the door crying. I ran 1.5 miles to my grandfathers. When I got there, he wasn't home, so I sat on the front porch with my pocket knife bawling my eyes out. I flicked open the knife and dug it into my forearm letting it split the skin, the blood flowing down my arm soaking the front of my clothes,and running over the porch. When I "woke up" and realized what I did I grabbed a rag off of the shelf that was on the front porch and wrapped it around my wound, which was still bleeding, then grabbed the water hose and rinsed off the porch. I then ran to my friends house, she answered the door and asked "What the hell happened to you?!?!" I told her and she let me in, gave me some clothes, and told me to get a shower. Needless to say, I stayed at her house for the night. On July 3 of that year, My mother was arrested for domestic violence and my sister and I were taken away. We were put with my grandmother, who is bipolar, due to her actions causing mine to accelerate my emotions towards her to hatred, I was put in anger management, then given away to my father's parents. Now here I sit, depressed, hating the world, and alone. Continuing to cut, while everyone belives my facade of happiness. When honestly, on the inside, i'm crying, screaming out, releasing my rage on myself.