Rehab Round One Ding Ding - Age 13

Rehab-Round One
I was ripped out of the car with my friends only to be greeted by the stepfather (who seemed to be the cat that ate the canary) and his mother and father who clearly simply tolerated me. They put me in the back seat of their car and we drove for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to watch the street signs so I could find my way back, but quickly got turned around. We arrived an hour later at the secret destination. I was taken out of the car and a duffle bag that my mother packed was carried in with me. I still was not sure where I was going? Was this an institution? A Jail? A Foster home? The buildings were very close together and they staff kept referring to them as the dorms. Ah Ha! My step father finally found a way to get me out of the house. He convinced my mother that at the young age of thirteen, I was out of control and there was no hope for me.
A man who looked like so many others who raped and took advantage of me stood there explaining that I would be spending the next 90 days here. I was in a drug and alcohol rehab for troubled kids. I was rather surprised by the conclusion that I was that out of control considering I had never tried drugs up until this point and I was simply acting out as any child would who was not getting the love and affection I so desired from my mother and her new husband.
I was taken to my dorm where I was introduced to a heroine addict named Angel who worked as a prostitute and ran away from home. This was going to be my new best friend for 90 days. Little did the parents know, but they sent me directly into the depths of Hell. My trip to Bowers Hill taught me to feel less, lie more effectively and manipulate my way out of any situation. My parents thought they bought a summer free of teenage rebellion, but they set themselves up for the longest mile.
My parents did not inquire much about what sort of therapy would occur there, and when I told my mother years later what I endured she was completely remorseful and surprised. It really is difficult to be a parent and make decisions for your children that you think will be in their best interest. I wasn’t trying to hurt her or blame her; I just wanted her to see the pattern. They really thought they were helping. Tanya (my other roommate) sold herself to the boys for cigarettes since her family never visited, and Angel had a pimp who would drive by once a week and throw a bag of cocaine on the property for us to use while we were there. One night, the nurse on charge lost her wallet and immediately assumed that we lifted it. We were all called to the boy’s dorms where we sat on the floor in our night clothes. The program director interrogated each one of us. Then he went through each and every file and read aloud all the things that happened to us that brought us there. We all cried hysterically and clutched one another as he told story after story of teenage prostitution. He told details about another girl who was repeatedly raped by her father and brothers. All the while, saying things like “It’s no wonder they did these things to you”….”Look at you…You are a whore and scum and will never be anything more”. I got off easy because the only thing he could tell about me was that I was sexually abused at an early age by George Monday the serial sex offender. Heck, everyone there had been sexually abused. It was the stories about the boys that really wrenched my heart when he told Jon, “I bet you liked it when your father did you in the butt, you little faggot”. This went on for hours and hours. He kept asking us where the wallet was and we kept saying that we did not know. Eventually the night nurse realized she dropped the wallet when she got out of her car and it slid under her seat. Of course, she was fired, but the damage to 18 young souls was more than complete. We were all broken and exhausted after being up all night and shamed beyond comprehension.