Please read the following with caution. My friend has poured out her soul in this testimony, and her life has been extreamly difficult. Her story includes rape, child pornography, and abuse, so please be careful.

Thank you,

-The webmistress

 My name is Deanna, and I am the girl mentioned in the web creator's testimony. I went to go see Avatar with her, and yes. She was awe-struck in a way that no one could ever believe. I was as well, but not in the way that she was. I have my own connection to the story, as well as she does. My story is kind of the complete opposite of her's, though.

I grew up not really knowing anything about the world. I was extremely sheltered, living on the top floor of a very run-down apartment building in the center of a town that is very much well known for it's dealings with drugs and drug busts at the high school. It's full of gangs, but it was voted in the Top Ten Best Cities To Live In. How that happened, I will never know, but anywho. My father was extremely sick, my brother didn't give a crap about me, and my mom was always at work. To take away the boredom of my life, I spent most of my time outside, just sitting on the swing set alone, or making a mote around the slide at the playground. I wasn't able to go to the pool that much during the summer because my father didn't really feel like taking us, and we weren't allowed to go there without an adult. I got by though.

The reason why I say my father is sick, though, is because he molested me ever since I can remember. My earliest memories include him touching me and doing other things to me that make most people sick to their stomachs. I don't remember when it started, because I was probably too young. My mom worked a pretty hard schedule during the day, and when she would come home at night, she'd be exhausted out of her mind. So she'd sleep. She would make dinner for us, have us sit down at the table and have a nice 'family' conversation. If that's what you want to call a family. But during the day, while she was gone, he would do it. During the night, while she was asleep, he would do it. It happened four or five times a week. I could never remember a time where it had been less.

While I was outside during the day, or at a friend's house during the night, he would resort to sitting at his computer and watching child pornography. There are no photos that my family owned that he was in that he wasn't sitting at his computer chair looking at a screen. he had many many computer parts scattered all around the house, as well as many hard drives that were filled with said child pornography. He included me in them. He would pose me in positions that I'd care not to talk about, and he would post my pictures up on some of the most popular child pornography sites. His camera had many memory cards, and all of them were filled with the same un-ending pictures of me. He would never let my mother nor my brother touch the camera. I personally hated having my picture taken, so I just stayed away from it anyway.

Now, I know you're probably wondering, "how could she have kept this secret throughout all of this time and not slip one single time?" Here's your answer. I grew up with it. Let me explain. Say you grow up on a farm, and you learn everything from when you're a very little child. It suddenly becomes habit, and then you're doing rather mindlessly, cleaning, and prepping, and feeding, and doing all that lovely fun stuff. Same thing goes with being molested from when you're little. You see, my father always told me that it was "our little secret," and you know, being a little girl, I listened. Every little girl wants to be the ever so cliche 'daddy's little girl', right? So I did what he asked me to do. I didn't tell anyone. He never told me that if I told anyone, he was going to hurt me. He never threatened me. He always just said, "Don't tell anyone, because it's our little secret." Every time he would touch me and what-not, he would always ask the same two questions: "Have you told anyone?" and "Are you going to tell anyone?". To both questions, I always said no. I was a little girl, give me a break.

We moved out of the crappy apartment in 2002, when I was about twelve years old. We moved into a one story house, with three bedrooms, and no basement. No garage. Very small back yard, but it had a rather good sized front yard. I still reside there today. But just because we moved didn't mean that the molestations stopped. In fact, they got worse. But I still kept the promise that I wouldn't tell anyone. Throughout the years, they started to slow a little bit, well, at least the MAIN thing that he was attempting to do when I developed my period and became a young lady. But around that time, I was getting annoyed with it. When I turned thirteen, I was so sick of it that I started kicking him away. He would come in only at nights, on school nights especially, and I would be extremely tired that morning when I woke up. I was getting insanely frustrated, and I had asked him to stop many times. Rather, I yelled at him. Did he listen? You guessed it. No, he did not. So then I started sleeping with a knife on the inside of my mattress. I cut a very small slit in the mattress, and I hid it inside of it, amongst the stuffing of the bed. when he would come in at night, I'd threaten him with it. I didn't care anymore, I knew that it was wrong, and I didn't want to be touched. I wanted that sick bastard to stay the hell away from me no matter the costs.

Then, May 24, 2008, I told my at-the-time best friend my secret. She held me as I cried, and she told me that it would be all okay. On May 28th, I told the guy that I was madly in love with the secret as well. We are still together, happily going on two years. The both of them teamed up on me one day in late June, and told me that if I didn't tell my mom that night, they would call her and tell her themselves. So I got the courage up, and I told her. And she didn't believe me. so I was placed into foster care while curter investigation on my father took place. I still attended summer school (because I had failed math. Go figure.) and I remained the same girl - except with a lot to worry about. But I managed not to really worry about it while talking to my friends and to my classmates. I would spend three hours on the phone a day. I talked to Chris, Sarah, and Kayla (Kayla is the creator of this site). they all found ways to cheer me up when I was feeling at my worse. Chris and Kayla reminded me that there was something great in the future that I had to look forward to.

I came home from foster care after my father was arrested and sentenced to three life sentences in prison. he had over seventy charges against him. I won the case. So I was allowed to go home. But when I got there, things got worse. I'm constantly getting into fights with my mother, and she's making herself seem like the victim with every small occurrence that happens around there. I try my best every single week to find a way to get out of there so that I don't have to deal with the stress anymore. My brother is turning into the man my father was. Outrage, uncontrollable temper, and if he doesn't get what he wants, he goes crazy.

But I still turn to God. Like the Na'vi turn to Eywa. I still pray every day and night. I still keep my thoughts focused on the fact that I know there is something bigger lying ahead of this trail that I am going down. I know that if I just open my eyes and realize that God is truly there, then I will be just fine. I see myself as being one of the Na'vi for that soul purpose. See it this way. If you've seen the movie, you can only imagine what it was like for those poor beasts to see their Hometree being  bombed to the ground. The anger and the sadness that they went through as they stood there helplessly as it crashed to the ground, crying and clinging to the loved ones who had been injured in the attack. that's me. I stand there and I take what is thrown at me, and I do nothing but just stand there and watch.  And then I re-locate. And then I pray. I pray to the one only higher being that I know can help me whenever I need it. I understand that He doesn't answer my cries right away, but they will be answered soon enough. And I just have to hold onto what might be in the future, rather than what happened in the past. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself and help other people, like I do on a daily basis. I just have to be more trusting with it. I know that I mess up and I know that I have flaws. But that shouldn't have to distract me from Him. That should distract me from the Being that I pray to, that I worship.

I am who He made me, and I understand that there is a connection between us all. I just still have yet to figure out what said connection is.