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A CHILD'S STORY

We’d like to share with you Allison’s story of the abuse she suffered and the help she received through The Children’s Advocacy Center. Allison’s name has been changed to protect her identity but her story is all too real.

My name is Allison. I am 9 years old. Three years ago, I lived in a motel room near the beach with my mother and her boyfriend. It was a bad time. I didn’t go to school and spent a lot of time alone or locked in the bathroom in our room at the motel.

Mom had a lot of problems. She didn’t have much money and used a lot of drugs and alcohol. Her boyfriend, Steve, sold drugs to a lot of different people who would come to the room. When he was working or when he, Mom, and their friends were getting high, I had to stay in the bathroom. I felt safer there anyway, as long as no one came in. But, there wasn’t anything to eat and the floor was cold. Sometimes they would get really loud and yell and bang things around. Sometimes, their friends would come in to use the bathroom. I didn’t like that very much because it was gross and there was one guy who was really mean. He made me do stuff I didn’t like. He told me if I told Mom she would be mad and make me go to the streets for being a bad girl. I knew she wouldn’t believe me anyway, even if I did tell. She would just say, girl, stop your stories and get back in there before I whoop you.

Then one day, everything changed. I was in the bathroom, just trying to be quiet, when there was a lot of noise and yelling. A lady cop opened up the bathroom door. I was so scared. She took my hand and walked me out of the room. Mom, Steve, that guy and some other lady were in handcuffs in the parking lot. Mom was crying really hard and kept saying, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry” to me as I walked by. I wanted to run and hug her, but didn’t know if I could.   back to top

The lady cop told me that my Mom and Steve had to go to jail for drugs, but that I would be okay. She asked me if anything bad had ever happened to me there, and I started to cry really hard. She took me to a place called The Children’s Advocacy Center and told me it was okay to tell the lady there everything that happened. They were so nice; they got me some clean clothes and gave me a teddy bear. I took that bear with me when they took me to meet my foster parents, which was pretty scary. I still love that bear. For a long time, I went there once a week to talk to a counselor. Then, when Mom was out of jail, she would come to see me at the counselor’s office and we would talk about everything, but mostly about how to be safe.

Once I was allowed to move back in with Mom, our Advocacy Center case manager came to see us at home once a week. She would ask Mom how her job was going and all that, and ask me how I was feeling. About a year ago, the case manager said that we were doing great and she wouldn’t be coming out to see us anymore, but that I could call anytime I needed to talk to someone. I can’t believe how different things are now. When I was six, I didn’t even know that you could have an apartment with all your own stuff and go to school with friends. Mom is doing great now too, she doesn’t have a boyfriend right now, but she says that is okay because she is too busy with her job and taking care of me. She does have a lot of cool friends from her job and from her Wednesday night meetings though. I like seeing her happy and I love our apartment and having my own bedroom. Mom and I have come a long way together and I don’t care if I ever see that old motel again. My name is Allison, and that’s my story.
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