by Carin Jayne Casey
My first childhood memory was of my mother screaming hysterically, while she beat me in the head with her fists.
My little sister watched, terrified.
My father sat in the other room and did nothing.
Decades later, I met an attractive, charismatic man who was intensely affectionate and loving one minute, then suddenly cruel and abusive. I was drawn to him, even when he tried to kill me. I forgave him, and suffered tortures for another year.
It was only by the Grace of God that I got out alive.
Recovery has taken years.