Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had to earn money. Somehow, my mother accepted me and loved me when I brought home money or groceries. Without any earning power, I wasn’t worth much. I started out doing the things a kid can do to earn a little money. I picked night crawlers and sold them to fishermen; I carried luggage for tourists; I returned bottles and cans. When I was twelve, I got a part-time job working in the library after school and on Saturdays. That was my first real pay check - all of fifty cents an hour. Then, when I was fourteen, I started working in a nursing home. I loved that; I loved the people I took care of and the people I worked with.

But, my worst experience had nothing to do with working anywhere. I can only tell you what I remember. It hurts to remember, but I’ll try to make sense of it.

I was fifteen years old. I was sitting in the front seat of a car with a man in his forties. I don’t even know his name. He had dark brown hair, slicked back. I thought he used Vitalis or something to make it look so greasy and shiny. I didn’t want to be in the car. I don’t know where we were going. I remember I was wearing a gray pullover sweater that showed off what little figure I was developing. My hair was in a pony tail, kind of high and curly…the kind Betty wore on the old "Father Knows Best" show. God, I didn’t want to be there!

First he reached over and sort of flicked my pony tail, kind of playing with my hair. That wasn’t too bad. Then he touched me on my sweater. I didn’t like it. I knew it was wrong. But I also knew that I had to do this. My mother had set it up. I couldn’t stop and get out. I had to be good. He touched me again and again. Sure, I knew it was a wrong touch, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I’ll never know if my mother sold me for that night or not. I sometimes wonder, but I’ll never know.

After that, I have no memory at all. I don’t know where we went or what he did. I don’t know if my body was used or not. The next thing I remember was waking up alone in my own bed the next morning. Whatever happened that night is completely wiped from my memory. I guess I blocked it out. On some level I couldn't understand, I wanted to not know.