I am ugly, I am evil and I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I know it is my fault. How do I know this? My mother told me…   It was just before my eighth birthday that my mother was arrested for child abuse. My teacher had told me I needed to stay back after school. I remember being terrified because of what had happened the last time I stayed late. The other details of that day are broken up into fragmented pieces of memory. I clearly remember being taken from my primary school class to a building I had never seen before and being stripped naked by a woman, before pictures were taken of the scars that covered my body: pictures of my broken arm, the bump on my forehead from the previous night and scars that even now I can’t speak about. READ MORE HERE