I was raised by a mother who was very strict, and very into the Catholic church. I was in church ever since I was born, and there was never a week that we missed mass. My mother acted as if anyone who didn't attend church was diabolically evil, and no daughter of hers would ever leave the Catholic church or its teachings of acceptable moral behavior.

When I was 14 years old, I was raped by my best friend's father. I had prayed for Jesus to help me, to save me from this man, but there was no answer to my prayers. I was in shock, and there was nothing I could do about it. If my mother found out that I was no longer a virgin, even though it was through no fault of my own, I wasn't sure what she would do. I was very afraid that she would disown me and kick me out of the house. I thought I could just keep the rape to myself, and hopefully move on with my life. That did not happen, because I soon noticed that I no longer had my period. I had become pregnant because of the rape.

I hid it for as long as I could, but I was a skinny teenager and I was showing by the time I was nearly four months along. So, with a deep breath and fervent prayers, I told my mother what had happened, and that I was pregnant. She immediately kicked me out of the house, told me that I was no longer her daughter, and if I showed up at her house, she would call the police on me. She also told me that my child was the devil's spawn. I was horrified.

I went to the city and lived on the streets for a few days. I was cold, hungry, and miserable. I went to a Christian shelter, but the women who worked there acted as if it was my choice to be on the streets, and didn't seem to care that it had not been my choice at all. I was not a runaway - my mother had kicked me out of the house. They didn't care. All they cared about was trying to convince me to give up my child once it was born. I refused. I knew I was young, and in no way prepared to be a mother, but my child was still a part of ME, and I couldn't give her up. They still pressed the issue, and I left the shelter the next night, unable to take it.

So, as a 14 year old girl with no means of supporting herself or her child, I did the only thing I could think of that would earn me money. I turned to prostitution. It was difficult, and I was scared, but it was the only thing I could think of. Once in a while, some Christians would come down to the streets and "witness" to us, which usually consisted of them telling us how evil and horrible we are, and how God was going to punish us. No one ever said a kind word to me, or wanted to know the reason behind what I was doing.

I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, not in a hospital, but in a small apartment I shared with other prostitutes. I was scared of going to the hospital, because I was sure they would take my daughter away from me, especially since I was a prostitute and a young girl. I kept on prostituting and tried to be the best mother I could be, but it was so hard, and I just wanted to give up. I half-heartedly prayed for help, but no help ever came for me, and I fully gave up on God when I was 15.

When I was almost 17, I met a man who did help me. He took me off the streets and took me and my daughter to Ohio with him. I don't know why I trusted him, but I did, and I was so desperate to be off the streets for the sake of my daughter, I was willing to do almost anything. He was good to both of us. My daughter still calls him "grandpa," and he gave us a good home, good food, and made me go back to school to get my diploma. Of course, he expected "payment" for his help, but I was glad to offer my body for his help, and he was a good man to both of us. He even helped me, once I graduated from high school, to get into a local college.

The man I lived with was an atheist, but didn't prevent me from going to a Catholic church that was nearby. I went twice. After someone in the congregation found out that I had an illegitimate child and was living "in sin" with a man over twice my age, I was no longer welcome in church. I then went to a Baptist church, but had the same results. So, I gave up on religion altogether, and became an agnostic, which I am now.

My life is just living proof that so many Christians don't care a thing about their fellow person. It took an atheist to rescue me from the streets, and to help me get on with my life. I am now a nursing student, and my daughter and I live in a good apartment in a good neighborhood, which is partially paid for by the man who helped us get off the streets. I've received no acts of kindness from Christians, and received no mercy or compassion from them. Still, I'm making my life into what I want it to be, and I'm trying to be the best mother I can be for my child.

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