When I was seven we moved to a new house. Across the street was a family with four boys. I played outside or rode my bike and the boys watched me. Sometimes I would see them at the mall or a restaurant. My mother made a comment one night that one of those boys was going to fuck me and knowing I was going to get fucked upset her. She would pick this or that one, tell me that it was not going to hurt, to just open my legs and think about Jesus.

I was fifteen when I was taken upstairs, I did what my mother said I opened my legs and thought about Jesus. It was the third boy. I told my mother and she took me to a doctor when I missed my period. With the pregnancy confirmed she took me to their house to point out the boy. We got married when I turned sixteen.

Every time he got on me I thought about Jesus. I spent a lot of time thinking about Jesus.