Howdy there, Delilah here! But you can just call me Lily 'fer short. Now in case yer wonderin', yes, this story is going to be told from a first-person perspective by, you guessed it: yours truly! To the best of my ability, I am here to explain all the details of my life, mostly what my papa and older brothers told me.

BUT BE WARNED: several parts of this narrative do get rather violent (physically and emotionally), and may be distressing to some readers. Viewer discretion is heavily advised!!!! Thank you!

April 5th, 1988

It was a cool spring evening in Galveston, Texas when I was born and took my very first breath. I remember whining and crying as I was taken, surrounded and cleaned up by a group of strange people. They washed and wiped my whole body as I mewled at the bright lights over-head before finally being handed over to my mom for the first time.. I remember how she cradled my small, new-born body wrapped in a soft, warm, fuzzy blanket ever so gently and gazed down at me with the softest, most loving expression.. "Delilah.. that's what I'll name you - Delilah Marie Harris.." she softly cooed before gazing up at my dad, who simply gave a light smile back. I was taken home, had my first meal, had my first bath, and my first diaper change that evening. And I met my two older brothers, Javier and Keaton. They were nice enough around me for a couple of then-10-year-old boys, helpin' mom take care of me every now and then.

After each day of the usual pamperin' and feedin' and playin', mom would always lay down with me and watch cartoons with me until I fell asleep in her arms. Any time I'd wake up cryin', mom was always come and change my diaper or give me my bottle, which I would often greedily drink all gone in about 5 minutes and give myself the hiccups.

About three years had passed and I had become fully weaned and potty trained. I was also diagnosed with mild to moderate ASD at that age, one of the reasons being that I tended to hyper fixate on certain shows, such as Rainbow Monkeys and several nature/animal documentaries. Wasn't sure at the time why I liked watching animal shows, it was just.. so fascinatin' to me personally, and still is.

November 9th, 1991

I woke up early this morning to find that mom was out somewhere. I went to my dad and asked where she was, and as it turns out.. mom got really sick and is now in the hospital. Dad sounded.. a little grouchy when he said this. Now, my dad has always been a bit of an off-puttin guy to me.. but something was different. As the next few days passed, he seemed to get more and more aggressive and full of hatred. He'd slam doors, yell more often, he also picked favorites with me and my two older brothers, favoring Keaton over me and Javier. He'd always belittle the two of us for having autism, even occasionally calling us the r-word.

May 4th, 1992

A little after I turned 4 was when things started to get physical. Dad would shove me into the walls, smack me upside the head or grab the collar of my shirt and drag me into my bedroom for time-out if I made the slightest mistake. He'd just yell in my face as I sat there on my bed crying in fear. Any instance that I look away from his gaze, he'd smack me and growl, "LOOK AT ME when I am speaking to you, you little RUNT!!" and then he'd ridicule me and call me a pansy because I was crying so much at that point.. I was only a toddler when this all started happening, so I had no idea what this all meant, only that my dad was really angry with me and my brother for some reason and I was scared shitless.

September 4th, 1992

Once I started to go to school, I became calmer knowin I had some time away from home - the kids and teachers were nice enough and I got to do some fun activities every now and then. I believe that this was also around the time I started to become interested in drawing. When it was free time, I'd ask the teacher for some paper and a pencil then go to my desk in the far corner of the room to doodle. I mainly drew pictures of different animals and characters, specifically ones I've seen while watching TV. I'd take the ones I was the most proud of to show to the teachers. They'd always praise my hard work and even put them up on a bulletin board for the whole class to see.

School was pretty much my safe haven and escape from hell back then, it honestly got to the point where I would sometimes miss the bus on purpose and go hide either behind the building or in the janitor's closet until someone found me. The fourth and final time that happened, I was taken to the main office where I was questioned about ditching the bus several times.. I hesitantly told them, "papa doesn't like me." this clearly caught them off-guard a little, given the concerned but puzzled expressions on their faces. I was driven home by one of the adults where they explained to my dad what had been going on the past few days and what I had told them earlier. Dad simply shrugged it off, lying that I was just being dramatic over my "TV time being taken away last night".

The moment we got in the house, he became absolutely livid and proceeded to pin me into the couch, threatening to "ground me for a month and beat me senseless" if he "ever catches me snitching again". Needless to say, I was forced to go hungry that weekend..

June 12th, 1994

More time had passed on and I had actually began to feel pent-up frustration towards my dad. The past couple of years he's given me nothing but hell on Earth.. starving me, hitting me, threatening me, insulting me and Javier, and it was only a matter of time before I couldn't take it any longer. This particular day I made sure he wasn't nearby before I slammed my bedroom door and began ranting and crying to myself about all the suffering my brothers and I have endured, and that I "wished papa was nice to me, then I wouldn't be sad".. unfortunately he heard my crying, and I knew I was REALLY in for it this time. As soon as he opened my door, I made a mad dash for the bathroom near the other end of the hall way. I tried to hide by crawling into the cabinet under the sink, but to no avail as he grabbed my leg and dragged me out. My sobs hit a crescendo as I cowered next to the tub. "W-why are you so m-mean to us?? You're our DAD! You're supposed to love us!!.." I said through sobs and hiccups before he slapped me really hard across the face and growled, "Don't you EVER speak to me like that!! And I NEVER loved you, you are nothing but a burden on this whole family. One mentally challenged kid was bad enough until YOU came along!" he then proceeded to ruthlessly beat me until Keaton saw and pulled dad off of me. I took this as an opportunity to sprint back down the hall and towards the stair case, until I noticed dad running after me wielding an aluminum bat. It was then that I slipped and tumbled down the flight of wood stairs. I lay on the floor, too shocked and frightened to react in time to my dad towering over me, then swinging the baseball bat full-force towards my head..