Deshawn's Story

My mom used to be good to me. Before she met her boyfriend, she and I spent all of our time together reading and playing games. Ever since he came around though, she has been distant from me. They had three children together. Once they are all taken care of there just seemed to be no time left for me.

It was the end of April when my mom and her boyfriend dropped me off at The House. I didn't know where I was or why I was here. I found out later that my mom had made up some stories about me being violent and running away. I didn't understand why she would say things like that. I didn't like being home and sometimes got upset but never hurt anyone.

I thought the people at The House would not believe anything I said, but to my surprise, they were there for me; they listened and cared about my perspective. I told them about my mom and how she seemed to love me until this guy came into her life. I don't get to see my family much anymore. Because I was living in one of The House's residential facilities and my family didn't want me to come home I was planning on spending Thanksgiving alone. My counselor at The House invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her family though, and for the first time I got to be around a real family and feel accepted.

When I came back I decided I wanted to try to reunite with my own family, so I worked at school and in our group home to save money for Christmas presents. I got my mom and brothers and sister presents and went to spend Christmas with my grandparents. I was so excited to see them and spend a real Christmas with my family! I gave them their presents, but while they opened them and exchanged presents among themselves I realized they hadn't thought to get me anything.

On New Year's Eve I got in a big fight with my uncle, and after a few blows were thrown I ran away. No one could find me, and I didn't come back until my ride back to The House showed up.

Santana's Story

I can honestly say running away from what I had to call home was the best decision I have ever made in my life. For seven years of my life, I was being molested by my grandfather. I never wanted to go to sleep because I knew shortly after he would be coming into my room to make me do things to him. I couldn't tell anyone or it would have just gotten worse. My grandmother knew what was happening but refused to help me and still denies it happened. Our home never had food in it; some nights my brother, sister, and I would go without eating at all. I was sick and tired of seeing my little brother and sister go without eating, so I felt I had no other choice than to find a way to make money. I became a prostitute just so I could make money to feed my family. Doing this made me feel disgusting inside and worthless.

As a sixteen year old, on December 2, 2008, I ran away from home. I never wanted to go back to where I was living. The house was filled with darkness and hate; I refused to go back. After I ran away, I was found and placed in The House of the Good Shepherd. This opened a whole new world to me: I could sleep without being woken up; I was fed; I felt safe; and I felt important. I could not believe the help I was getting and the relationships I was building. My story was being heard. I wasn't being ignored.

The man who was molesting me for seven years of my life is now in prison and has been for two years. The woman who ignored what her husband was doing to me now lives without her husband. I know I have a purpose in life; I have an education, a family, and a home I am proud to call my home. Everyday I am being prepared for obstacles that will come my way and guided along the path that I was meant to take. Because I was placed into The House of the Good Shepherd I have had choices of how I want to live my life.

Evan's Story

My family was constantly reported to Child Protective Services for all different reasons, mainly; for abuse and neglect. Those are just words to me; what I experienced was much more vivid. My life was a living hell. Most of the time we went without food, and we didn't have clothing. At a very young age, my mother would make me do things to my sister and younger brother as she watched. My dad wasn't any better; he did the same thing with my other brothers and was violent in other ways too. Some of the things that I can't get out of my thoughts are times when he made us eat cereal when we didn't want it. We had to keep eating until we got sick. Then he would tell us to eat what we threw up. He used to tell me what a good job I had done when I hurt my brothers or sister. I really thought this was normal, how other families acted. My dad killed one of our dogs in front of us and told us that this would happen to us if we didn't do what he asked. Our parents made us move all the time because my mom was paranoid and convinced that someone was out to get us. Now that I'm older, I realize that it was probably just Child Protective Services trying to come up to see what was going on in our house.

Once my parents gave up rights to me, Michelle told me that I could be adopted now and have a family. Even though Marie was a great foster mom, I knew deep down that we weren't a good fit for adoption. So I told her, and we agreed that I would start looking. It took a long time but when I met Carol, I felt like it was meant to be. She loved all of the same things I did, and she made me feel like I was home.

I visited her over the summer, and I had so much fun there. We got along so well that I moved in with her in September. Carol makes me feel important. She brings me to visit my grandma and my older brothers; she brings me hiking and to shows; and she sits down and watches TV and movies with me. I have my own room here and even my own bathroom! I'm happy and I think she's happy too. I'm hoping we will decide together that she will adopt me. Time will tell what will happen next, but I know whatever it is, it’s going to be great and that I have control over my future and my happiness from now on.