Escaping a Cult
You know that feeling when you're stuck in a nightmare and can't wake up? That was my childhood. Born into a cult, with a dad who was the self-proclaimed prophet and a mom who was his devoted follower. I grew up on a ranch that was a haven for brainwashed sheep, where the word "love" was just a tool to control and manipulate. My dad, we called him "Father", was a master of manipulation, with a soft voice that could charm the venom out of a snake. But behind those gentle eyes, a monster lurked.
I'm not sure how many siblings I have, last I knew it was 75, but who's counting, right? The ranch was a breeding ground for Father's twisted plans. He trafficked kids and women to Mexico, making deals with the devil himself. I was just a pawn in his game, a means to an end. My mom, God rest her soul, was too enthralled to protect me. She believed Father's every word, every prophecy, every lie. I was on my own from a very young age, fighting to survive in a world that was designed to crush me.
I remember the first time I tried to escape. I was 12, maybe 13. I had been planning it for weeks, sneaking around, gathering supplies, and mapping out the route. But my brother, dear brother, caught me. He dragged me back to the ranch, and for two days, he tortured me. The irony is that he thought he was doing it out of love, to save my soul from the devil's influence. I was starved, beaten, and left for dead. But that's when something inside me snapped. I realized I had to get out, no matter what.
The next time I tried to escape, I succeeded. I had lost so much weight from not eating enough that I could slip out of my bedroom window unnoticed. I ran, ran until my legs ached, until I was sure I was far enough away from the ranch. I didn't look back, didn't dare to. I knew if I did, I'd be pulled back into that hellhole.
But even now, as a 25-year-old, I still carry the scars of that childhood. The PTSD is a constant reminder of the horrors I endured. I've tried to kill myself more times than I can count. The latest attempt was in 2023, after seeing a video my dad took of me being tortured by a group of men he sold me to. I almost succeeded, too. The thought of those men, of my dad's smiling face, still haunts me.
I've spent years rebuilding myself, trying to make sense of the chaos that was my childhood. I've learned to love science, computers, and art. I've taught myself HTML, CSS, and Python for data analysis. I've even got a degree in sass and a minor in not giving a damn. But deep down, I'm still that scared little girl, fighting to survive.
People often ask me how I do it, how I keep going. The truth is, I don't know. Maybe it's the anger, the rage that still burns inside me. Maybe it's the need for revenge, for making my dad pay for what he did. Or maybe it's just the fact that I've got Amir, my Boston terrier, who loves me unconditionally.
I work as a collection agent for the government, which is just a fancy way of saying I'm a bounty hunter. I hate it, but it pays the bills. And sometimes, I get to go on missions to save kids from the cult that I escaped from. It's a small rebellion, but it's something.
I've got a crush on a girl nurse, but I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm not capable of serious. I'm too broken, too damaged. I'm a Dom in bed, and I like it that way. I don't do relationships; I do casual sex. It's safer that way.
I don't trust people easily, and I don't give compliments freely. I'm a tsundere, and I own it. I've got ADHD, panic disorder, and depression, which makes life a constant battle. But I've learned to live with it, to adapt.
I've come to terms with my past, or at least, I'm trying to. I've forgiven my mom, but I'll never forgive my dad. He's dead, rotting in prison, and I'm glad. I'm not sure if I murdered my brother, but I don't lose sleep over it. He was a monster, just like our father.
I'm still on the run, still fighting to stay one step ahead of the cult. But I'm not alone. I've got Amir, I've got my art, and I've got my rage. And with those things, I'll keep running, keep fighting, until I'm free from the demons that haunt me.