What do you think?

Angela "Freebird"
You are a truly inspiring, unique lady. You truly touched my life this weekend in St. Louis. I am a parent of a BACA child and without them she wouldn't have come as far as she has. They truly gave me back my little girl. She is the reason her Dad (step-dad) and I became a part of the Family, to pay it forward! Although I am only a supporter, my family has been with BACA for 2yrs now and WOW is all I can say. I couldn't wait to get home to share your story with my girl. She wants your book and anything else you have that she can use to help other children. I reminded her...baby steps; she was 8 when the abuse started and is now 15 and just this past November told her story. She sees you as an inspiration and role-model. Before I cry any harder while typing this, I will end it here. Thanks isn't big enough. Much love to you sister. McQueen---Northeast Kansas Chapter

Behind closed doors and under beds are where children check for monsters, little do they know, under the bed is perhaps the safest place for them. There are such things as monsters, as it turns out, but not in the shadows. People chat with them in broad daylight all of the time as it is, blissfully unaware of the danger that stands in front of them. It doesn’t help that most monsters are attractive, mother nature has custom fit them to exist in the world as one of us. Consipiracy? No, survival of the fittest. Those that are not perfect for the job are taken out. Prison.
I have personally lived with these monsters, that’s how I know they exist. We are the monsters. Not all of us of course, but enough. Enough to make a difference.
Over the years many try to cope with the beasts, people don’t understand that the monsters are past saving.
And so, after living with a monster for fourteen years, my family left my biological father. We went across the country, and yet we were followed. The monster tracked us, dogged us, threatened, and as a final blow he took one of our own and defiled him.
My biological father sexually assaulted my autistic twelve year old brother to such an extent that in a way, death is better than living with what has happened. It was done with a sick malice and obsession that made me moan and weep for hours, clinging to my mother like I myself was twelve. What you are about to read may offend some. Good. Perhaps it will provoke action.
In the winter of 2009, I bid my brother a firm goodbye. With his head bobbing up and down, he smiled and asked if I would miss him. I said nothing. I hate lying, so it’s only natural. Instead I waved him off, and headed to school. A week after he returned home, I came down with an eye infection. On the way to a visit to the doctor, I found out what had happened.
“Come on, Buddy” he crooned. I stepped back, nodding profusely, trying to stop him. So dark, and cold. I want to go into the motel but I know what will happen. My father calls again, patting his legs like he does when Miranda is around. I love Miranda. She’s so nice, and treats me the same as she does everyone else. Still patting his knee. I wonder if he really is trying to surprise me. Maybe Miranda is in there waiting for me. Pat, pat. “C’mon, we’re going to have a sleepover and watch movies, I promise to make you some popcorn, just come on in.” I look around. I don’t want to go, I want to run and run and never ever look back. Patting his knees, “Jon,” Deeper voice “Come on, Jon. Follow daddy or I’ll have to give you a spanking.” Oh, spankings are bad. I don’t want one of those. Walking up to him, bitter smile. Maybe he’s not lying?
Slam, bolt, lock, click, click. The light flutters. It’s an old room. One bed. I hate sleeping in one bed, daddy hugs too tight. I turn, but the door is closed. I reach, but I’m pulled away. I struggle, but I am put down. I scream, but I am not answered. I appologise, but daddy is busy. So is Shawn, he holds me up so that I don’t fall down, daddy says it’s bad to fall. It’s cold again now that my cloths are gone. I shiver, daddy likes it when I do that. My cloths are in the trash. Maybe I can get to them so that I can be warm. This is so uncomfortable. Click, whir, click, whir. The camera goes and goes. Daddy tries to stoop, but I kick at him. “Stay still, son. And shutup!” He growls, slugging my tummy hard. I throw up. “Ugh” He groans. I say I’m sorry. I have to be good for him. Sorry, sorry, sorry, I am very sorry I didn’t mean it daddy I’m sorry. I choke, gag, cry. Slap. I had better stop. I clench my hands, wringing them out every few seconds. This is wrong. I know it’s wrong. Mom and Toban are going to cry. I’m making them sad right now. I shouldn’t have gone into the room. Miranda wasn’t there, she’s in Italy. I wish she was. She says she likes me. I hope she wouldn’t love me like daddy does.
Shawn sits on the scrappy couch. Daddy says to sit on his face, its gross and I don’t like it. He licks me all over and its cold again. I don’t like it. I jump down and say no, but daddy runs at me so I scramble back up. Shawn makes me pee in his mouth.
I was bad today, there wasn’t any dinner after daddy and Shawn got done playing.
Morning. Shawn is gone. He said he had to go home, and I’m happy that he did. I’m going to my meme’s house today. I like her a lot. She is my friend, and she can help me with daddy. He is a bully I think, because he hits me and touches my privates. Those are mine and I don’t like it. It makes me sad and confused. Why would he do that? I told him to stop. He isn’t very nice at all.
Meme’s was okay. I like my cousins, daddy was gone a while so we didn’t get to play. I don’t mind.
Back on the road. Daddy makes me sit up front, he says it helps me be a big boy. And I am a big boy so I do it. Gas, we need some gas. Stop to fill up. Parking lot, store, candy, gum, hall, bathroom. Pinching and it hurts really bad. The floor is sticky, I wonder if someone peed on it. I can’t breathe, I have t o breathe, there’s a black ring. Sorry daddy. I tried to stay awake for you because you love me.
This is a true story. I am a real person. The characters are real. It happens.
Death is an understatement to what should happen to this man. This monster. E-mail Unheardnomore@live.com to find out how to help