The first lie I told was in 1971 (my mother made me rehearse over and over before I walked to school that day). She said, If anyone asks you why youre walking funny, tell them you fell down! I lied to my teacher, school nurse, school counselor, principal, and the police who frequented my bedside at Womens Medical Hospital three to four times a month. My mothers male friend raped me. It was so violent that when he was finished, both hip bones were no longer in their sockets. I was ten then. I lay at home for two more weeks while my mother told my two elder sisters to hold me down and cover my mouth while she slathered Watkins salve all over my legs and attempted to put both hip bones back in their sockets. She told me, No one cares about you. No one is looking for you. But I knew she was lying. I could hear the police knocking on the door from the third floor of our house. After taking the bus to the hospital, she made me walk to the emergency room. Once the doctors x-rayed my legs, they immediately scheduled surgery for the next morning. Each night, I spent time alone in the hospital with no family to care for me for five consecutive years.