It was after those nights when I was two and every night peered over the crib and smiled down at the newest member of the family. After we moved from Texas to New Hampshire. After my father returned from long months away from home. After we moved to Southern California. After the sound of geese and the faint, sweet smell of fish in an artificial pond and a light green fog on the military base. After I lost my doll because I buried it in the rubber bits at my favorite park. After my first day of school. After my first bee sting. After I had to say goodbye to Mrs. Brogan and the sixth-grade pet tarantula because they made daddy move again. After we moved to Northern California because mom didn't want to move to Alaska. After we arrived in our new house on Christmas Eve, and my sister and I worried Santa wouldn't find us. After my first day of fourth grade in my new, advanced, enormous school. After I struggled to shelter my little sister from the blood-curdling screams coming from upstairs. After dad nearly punched a hole in his wooden dresser. After my sister and I went to the park with the twins we met in Southern California, the ones who lived on the base too, the ones who moved here a few years before us. After dad tried to pull my sister down the slide, ordering her to come with him. After at eight and six we stood on the platform, trying to find somewhere he couldn't reach us. After he drove away, and mom took us to the twins' house. After mom never went home with us to see dad. After dad fed us chicken and green beans every night. After my sister began to hate green beans. After mom started dating my soccer coach. After we moved in with my soccer coach, a police officer with tattoos, an ex-wife he got along with, and two daughters older than me. After I was no longer the oldest child. After the four years of separation and endless hours in court, their divorce was legal. After mom married the police officer. After dad married the woman who tried to bribe us with cookies, the month after mom got married. After I started middle school. After my four friends stopped meeting under the tree at lunch. After four friends became one. After one became two. After my new friend lied about sex. After my new friend lied about everything. After I, being very naive, became worried about my new friend. After I told my stepmom, now friends with my new friend's mom, what she had said. After my new friend's mom "got a phone call about a virginity test" for her. After her mother scared her then punished her. After my new friend blamed it entirely on me, and because of that disgustingly bullied me every day. After my grades fell. After months of all-nighters when I was only twelve. After my father and stepmother's daily expectations became carved into my brain, my skull, and my skin. After I believed every lie and truth and often confused the two. After I tried to take away the pain at such a young age but didn't think to remove the blades from the frame because I was young and afraid and in so much pain so the cuts never stayed and the shallow scratches in my legs would always soon fade. After I started eighth grade. After I got two new doctors who already knew my name. After one of them gave me medication that made me cry and shake and curl up in a ball in my room. After my parents made me take the same pill again and again until the third time and since then it's given me no pain, only helped me stop staring out windows and at walls and across rooms and there I go again. After one of my doctors asked me more questions as I stared at the box of toys and longed for the times I was allowed to play pretend. After her questions led to more medication. After some of my answers changed and I got a second pill to take. After that dose was increased. After slowly my prayers to be hit by a train or get the courage to blow out my brains began to go away. After I became a freshman in high school. After I helped the kid from my class with my math. After he stole my first kiss in the corner of the room after the teacher left for just a second. After he made me kiss him again the following day. After he said to me, Now it wasn't that hard, see? After the third day when his hand touched where it shouldn't have been. After I cried. After It was just getting good and Why're you upset? After mom made me tell her because I couldn't stop crying. After mom made me tell the office. After the office changed our schedules and banned us from any form of contact. After my stepmom wouldn't look me in the eye and my parents weren't clear as to whether they blamed me. After hours spent wondering if it was my fault because I didn't know what to do and I was scared and no experience I ever had with my parents' divorce and my military dad could've prepared me for that. After I realized I still don't know whose fault it was. After I began considering moving in with mom because my stepmom and dad make me sad. After writing this took me a week. After I realized how much I've survived.