The school district where she lived was one of the best schools in this country. Most of the people around there were rich. They were also mostly transplant corporate types. Very few people were native to that area. There was no feeling of a community atmosphere. It was all so cold and sterile.

My sister was getting home sick. She hated it. She missed her friends. She didn't feel like she fit in. The only class that made her happy was the acting class.

I was happy. I liked the challenge of my classes. I took Advanced Placement English and Advanced Writing, Gymnastics, Sign Language, Psychology, Voice Training, Chamber Choir and Geometry. I did not join any activities, but I had a full enough load of fun classes to keep me occupied.

My aunt did not really know what to expect with teenagers and I think we made her nervous. She always tried to be as cheerful as possible. She has always been a positive and upbeat person. When we were not in school. We would be going over to my grandmother and great-grandmother's house to take them shopping. Sometimes, my aunt would give us money and leave us at the mall all day.

My parents told us they were having trouble selling the house and probably wouldn't be able to move. They said it was up to us if we wanted to stay or move back home. We went home during the winter break. The school we left in Chicago didn't start vacation yet, so we went to see our old friends. It was nice to see everyone, but I thought I should finish up in Colorado. My sister saw her friends and couldn't leave. She decided to stay.

I thought I would be okay. I was in the beginning. My mom made me promise to get hooked up with the Kingdom Hall. When I told my Choir teacher that I couldn't do the Christmas show because of religious reasons, there were three other witnesses who also stood up, too. I had never spoken to them before that day and did not know they were witnesses. We became fast friends when I got back from break.

Two of the girls were seniors. The other was a freshman. The two seniors were cousins and they came from a strong witness family. They were the fourth generation of Jehovah's Witnesses. Their older brother and other family members have done their service to Bethel. Their mother was a "pioneer". They also wanted to be "pioneers" when they left high school.

The other girl, Melissa, was on the fence. Her mom was a witness and her dad wasn't. I could relate to her more. Since my sister wasn't there with me, Melissa was my new sister. Even when my aunt would routinely drop me off at the mall with money, she would drop me off with her. We did everything together. When I went over her house, her mom would try to get me to go to a meeting with her. I agreed to go with them for the "Memorial" service.

I don't know exactly what got Melissa into full witness mode, but the next day after "Memorial", she hinted at the fact that she wanted to study. She asked if I would study with her. I said yes.

We were still hedging the fence. She like Duran Duran to the point of what one would say worship. I liked music and to entertain. I wanted to be a singer and a writer. We also experimented with smoking cigarettes together. It wasn't really a big deal, except for the fact that this was a big no-no for a witness. We bought a package of menthol cigarettes. We didn't even have a match to light it. We used a magnifying glass to light it. After much coughing and choking, we gave up after four and just burned the rest of them.

We found my aunt's stash of pot and her pipe. We took it and tried some. We both thought that was the most disgusting taste and smell. When I went to school, I sold the stash to some stoners.

I remember around this time there was a great religious scandal going on in the mainstream media. Jim Bakker and James Swaggart were in the spotlight of all hypocrisy. I remember at the meetings how they were held up as examples of the perversion of Jehovah's laws and they represented all of "Christendom" and must be avoided.

I remember there was also a big rush to purge our homes of the new batch of demonic material, anything Michael Jackson, especially "Thriller" and anything Procter and Gamble. There was also a lot of songs which you were expected to destroy if anyone even suggested it had demonic messages when played backwards.

While I was starting to move more towards the witnesses like I promised my mom, there was also another growing trend. Thanks to Ray Franz, the book Crisis of Conscience was pulling people out left and right. All I knew of the book, at first, was that it was written by an evil apostate and it was full of hateful lies. We were not supposed to read it or even touch it.

I agreed to commit to studying after graduation. The sister knew I had already signed up to go away to college. She asked me if I really thought it was a good idea. She said I would be better off staying and becoming a full time pioneer. I told her my dad would be very disappointed if I didn't give it a try. This sister encouraged me to get baptized. I thought it was a good idea and informed the elders of my intentions.

The last semester of high school was kind of traumatic for me. I was going to finally commit, but I had so much in my past to hide that I could not even address. It all came out of the closet in a very disturbing way.

I was doing so well in all of my classes. Then my Psychology teacher decided to do an experiment of hypnosis on the class. I was not supposed to participate since hypnosis was allegedly letting demons take over your body to do the bidding of the hypnotist. He gave me a hard time about it. I decided I didn't need to be treated that way, so I made a habit to cut his class unless there was a test. I showed up for one test and was given a project that was supposed to make up a good chunk of our grade. He wanted us to draw a picture about how we felt about our life.

I didn't even know how I felt about my life. I thought it was a stupid assignment and didn't want to take it seriously. I brought with me a black piece of construction paper. Little did I know he wanted us to explain our art. I simple said I feel like I am in the dark with no hope of seeing the light.

My teacher wanted to read more into it than I wanted him to know. He asked me to stay after class. We stood outside the class door since I tried to escape before he could talk to me. I did not want to talk to him. He wanted to know if I was having any problems. I felt really uncomfortable with him prying. He kept trying to read my body language and saying that he knew there was something wrong by the way I kept backing away from him. I just ran off.

The next thing I know, I am settled in my next class and someone comes with a note to summon me to the school psychiatrist. She talks to me and tries to be a friend. After talking to her for about fifteen minutes, she asked me if I have ever been physically or sexually abused. I was stunned. I couldn't speak. I was in denial and still didn't want to come to terms with everything. All I could do was cry. I tried to control myself long enough and just ran out of her office. I immediately took an overdose of diet pills.

After getting my stomach pumped and being fixed up, I was set up to see a counselor. I didn't feel right talking to the counselor. I finally admitted that I had sexual relations with a friend of the family who was old enough to be my father. I didn't quite tell my mom until she came for my graduation.

I confessed to an elder what happened when I was nine. I was made to tell this to a few more elders. The decision was it happened a long time ago and it involved a non-witness. So as to not stumble this man who was also studying, nothing would be said or done about the situation. They also said that they hoped I learned my lesson and not put myself in such situations. I should know better than to solicit looks from men.

I continued to study. I felt bad about what I did. I felt it was my fault. I thought I was such an evil person for my part of the incidents. I could not forgive myself for it.

The counselor was really no help. I didn't know why I was there. I felt depressed, but I felt it was my fault. I couldn't quite explain the way I felt to the counselor because I didn't think he would understand. I felt uncomfortable talking to a man about such things. I would have rather just forget the whole thing and not deal with it. I refused to see the counselor and planned to go to college, finish with my bible study and get baptized.