• canela25 9w

    My little brown eyes.

    My name is Carmen, and I was given the name, my little brown eyes; by my adopted father when I was four years old. I was sold for liquor to an american lady by my own biological father. This american lady would buy kids or take kids from very poor families that couldn't support themselves in Mexico, and then she would take us to the US and sell us to the Americans that would give her money for us. My brother and I were sold for $25. dollars each. My adopted mother said she felt sorry for me and my brother, and she just couldn't let us go, so she gave us a home. That she couldn't imagine what kind of abuse we would have gone through if she didn't take us in. I was just three years old and my brother was six. It's funny how you always remember the most traumatic experiences in your life and it's so hard to remember the most recent things that happen in the present moment? I don't remember exactly how things happened? But I do remember so much about what happened to me and my family when I was just three years old. I did end up in a very abusive home anyway. My adopted father was a poligamous man, he had wives at the time when I was brought to their family. And he was dating a very young girl as well. Moving to the beginning of my story for a bit, from what I can remember.... I was 3, and I used to get up very early in the morning, grab a small basket and head outside to the chicken coop, and pick up the morning eggs. I was so terrified of my biological father, I heard his voice call out to see if I had gotten the eggs? So me, trying to hurry up.... I ended up dropping a couple of the eggs I just remember handing them to my mother and hiding behind her dress. At the time I had two brothers and two sisters. My father was a alcoholic, and he would beat my mother senseless. He would send me and my brother David out in the dark to the bar for more liquor. The streets were pitch black and I was clinging to my brothers arm the whole way there and back home. He was a heartless farther. Shortly after that was when the American lady took my brother, he was the first one to go. It had to of been a while, cuz I got used to not seen him home. Then my father started drinking one night and with some of his friends. After they left my parents got into an argument and he beat the crap out of her, it was snowing at the time, he threw her outside... and we could just hear my poor mother crying banging on the door for him to let her back in. Then suddenly it went silent. My father looked for her outside but she was gone?