Well, I'll start at the beginning. The first years of my life were hard. My dad started losing interest, I guess you could say, in church when I was around 3. When I was about 4, Dad stopped going, and started gambling, drinking, and cussing. I was daddy's little girl, so I wanted to go everywhere daddy went. Soooo, by the time I was 5, I knew everyone in all the wrestling matches he took me to, knew everyone at the places where he gambled, and knew how to gamble. Well, to make a long story short, when I had just turned 5, me and my daddy had just went out. Mom was working that night, she was working nights at the hospital, and wouldn't be back till the next morning. Well, when we got home, mom was there, and she was mad. They started fighting a lot, and daddy got drunk a lot more often. Well, one night during the summer, my dad threatened to kill my mom, then kill himself. I begged him not to. He started crying and promised me that he wouldn't. Well, the next day, they were fighting...again. This time it was really bad, so they sent me outside to play. Well, the next thing I heard was mom scream. I ran back inside, and mom was laying on the floor covered in blood, trying to dial the phone, and dad was on the couch with a knife sticking out of his chest. I didn't know what was going on, but I just had a feeling that daddy wasn't coming back. Someone from my family came and got me and I stayed with them till mom got out of the hospital. I didn't get to go to daddy's funeral, because I guess they thought i couldn't handle it. Well, a few years later, my grandfather on my mom's side and my grandmother on my dad's side died. I just couldn't understand why the people who I was closest to had to die. I had gotten baptized when I was 9, I got the Holy Ghost. By the time I was 12, I was bitter at God for taking my family, and hated my mother for making me go to church. (She remarried when I was about 7 I believe) My step dad was mean. He was verbally abusive, and when I got older, he became physically abusive. The last time he hit me, though, was right before they got a divorce. I had back-talked my mother, so he started hitting me with a tennis racket and left black and blue bruises and welts all over my back and legs. When they divorced, my mom and I moved out of the house, into an apartment. I still resented my mom, but I went to church to see my friends. I started hanging out with a girl, Amanda. She couldn't get along with her mom, either. It was strange, her dad beat her when she was little, her dad's name was Michael (my dad's name was Michael) and her parents got a divorce the same year my dad committed suicide. We had all that in common, so we connected. We did everything we could to get in trouble, because we just hated our moms. Well, finally, when i was about 14, we both started feeling conviction for all we'd been doing, and God started really working on us.  I got back in church, and have stayed active in the youth group and all. My mom started dating a man in our church who was really nice, but I wasn't ready for another step dad, because I was afraid he'd be like my first one. When I was at camp when I was 16, I called home and my mom told me that they were getting married as soon as I got home. They'd already talked  to my pastor and all that. That was just the wrong thing to tell me right about then. When I got home, they did get married. I struggled with that for a long time. I had to pray about it for a long time, and with God's help, I am now getting along really well with my step dad. I am still growing in the Lord daily. I still have my trials, but I pull through them. I'm thankful that God loved me enough to draw me to Him, even when I was running from Him.