Every time I logged into Meebo, I felt wanted. Messages upon messages—from boys my age and men twice my age. Most were perverts, sure, but others… others were my friends. Kids I grew up with and reconnected with, new church kids just as messy as me, and random people from back home.
I was happiest holding that big, ancient laptop. It meant I was needed. It meant people noticed me. It meant there were friends who were genuinely concerned about me. I loved it.
Unfortunately, that didn’t last long.
Trevor got caught doing naughty things, and he decided he wasn’t going down alone. That’s when she lost it. Amber took the iPod and the laptop and smashed them with the rubber kitchen mallet until they were no longer usable.
Even though she said she did it for godly reasons, I knew better. It wasn’t about God. It was because we had hidden something from her. Because there were secrets she didn’t know about. Because she realized she was no longer in control—or maybe never had been.
Shortly after that, I decided I was moving out. I was only a few months from 18. I had started reconnecting with my parents over the last year, and my dad was eager for me to come live with him again.
So I left.
I walked away from the woman who took me in and raised me. I walked away from the religion. And in her eyes, I walked away from them all. To her, I was ungrateful. I was about to become just like my mother.
Leaving didn’t mean I was free.
It just meant I was finally walking without rules—and with no idea how to protect myself. I carried everything with me: the need to be chosen, the fear of being alone, and a definition of love that was already bent. What came next wasn’t sudden. It was slow. Quiet. And at the time, it felt like survival.
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