I was born in '59 to a couple of dysfunctional losers in California. My first memory was waking up in a nice soft bed in Grandma's house since my skitzo mom has been caught sleeping it off under a bridge with yours truly covered in road dust and day old feces. So Social Services decided I was better off with someone who actually liked kids more than booze and snatched me. Grandma spoke up and they were happy to be unburdened. Since I had no memory of what had gone on in the time before I was placed with my Grandmother I just happily accepted my "new" reality. For me it was just a nice clean place with with nice people. It was Home. But my dear Dad who I had no memory of unfortunately got clean and got a job and an rental house and an attorney. By the time he came for me I was madly in love with my Grandparents and very content and happy. I remember being at the front door while my Grandfather held me. I was most secure in his arms. But there were loud shouts and angry words as if someone had really done something bad. It went on for some time before my Grandfather attempted to hand me over to the angry mean man who had been talking the loudest. I was terrified and struggled all I could to escape this evil man. I ran and hid under my bed. Soon he came and dragged my out by my foot. I screamed all I could but no one listened. I screamed out every bit of fear in my body until I ran out of screams and only had sobs as I stared over this mans shoulder at my Grandfather's receding face. The look on his face broke me further. The horrors after that would fill several books.
