Beautiful Mess, we were on the run from my Dad when the rapist got me, so he couldn't protect me. Out of the fat and into the frying pan!

Quiet Grace, I'm lucky in that I've never wanted children. Of course, the damage causes other problems, but that's the way it goes. Looking around at the lives of other people, I realize that I'm actually very fortunate.

The prison only allows letters. (No blankets.) They wouldn't even give him the bible that was left for him. He can get magazines and books if they're sent directly from the publisher, but that's it. I understand the security concerns, but I don't understand the lack of heat and blankets!