Growing up as a little girl, I should have had the memories of playing dolls with my friends, family vacations, Vacation Bible Schools at my church, and spending special times with my grandparents. This was not the case - it was all pretty much the opposite. I told no one anything; I tried once but it failed. Fear of not knowing this was wrong, I kept it all inside. I was a good girl, so I did not understand why these things happened to me. What did I do to deserve this? My life was tarnished, and I continued down the path of hurt. I went to church on most Sundays and talked to God alone. Fear and embarrassment kept me from reaching out for help. To best describe my situation, I was like a pretty rose just like the one on the cover of my book. The thorns on that rose bush were there, permanently inside, ripping my heart and soul apart. You never know what someone is going through, even if they "seem" happy. I was dying inside.