I entitled my book Dying for a Voice to Be Heard because as a child, the adults in my life wanted me to be silent. My own mother did not want my siblings and me to tell anyone about my father’s abuse because she didn’t want us. My father didn’t want us to tell anyone because he didn’t want to pay child support or go to jail. My own grandmother did not like me because of the complexion of my skin. I remember sitting at the table being happy and smiling, and she looked at me and said, A girl like you should not be smiling. I could not comprehend why a girl like me should not be smiling, and I could not ask my grandmother why she said that because I would have been in trouble. The worst part of my childhood was I had no one to run to. I couldn’t tell anybody, and there was nobody to save me. Everyone knew we were held prisoners in our own home. However, everyone stayed silent. It came to a point where we understood why we had to stay quiet, my siblings and I. We knew if we ran to our mother’s house, she would not nurture or support us. However, if we kept silent and stayed with our father, at least we would have support and food on the table and a bed to sleep in. In order for us to have the basic things that kids should automatically have. However, with having the basic needs met as a kid it required us to be physically and emotionally abuse. We had to take the frustration of being silent almost caused me to almost commit suicide. I felt there was no reason to live. I had to make a choice. I came to a decision that I was going to commit a sin and take my life. My choice was I was going to have a say in the direction my life was going. When I finally left my abusive father at thirteen, I knew I would never return. I obtained my voice to say no more. I would not accept this drama in my life anymore. I was dying inside as a little girl just wanting to be heard, but since I made that first step to my journey in life, I haven’t stopped talking.