We lived in a rough neighbourhood called the ‘Courts’ in Saint John. That’s where the refugees are. We played baseball with sticks and once I was hit in the eye with a stick with a nail in it.
What first got me to the streets was prostitution. My dad prostituted me out. My dad raped me when I was six, seven and eight, and I had a child by my dad.
When I was twelve I went to juvenile school for two years. One place they gave me shock treatments. Then back home. I had my first son when I was fifteen. They took him for adoption right away.
It wasn’t long after that that I left home. I was going out for milk, bread and cigarettes and I never came back.
I ended up working the streets in Moncton. I was using the needle hard then. Then I left there and worked the transport trucks to Montreal, Vancouver, Grand Prairie and all over. I ended up in Ottawa.
I left my kids in Nova Scotia: I was too screwed up to look after them. I don’t contact them, it’s too much. I can’t. My three boys went for adoption.
It’s really hard. People look down on you and want something and well… I just can’t.
I don’t want my kids to know about me, about my HIV – ever!
Next Week:. Hard life on the Streets. Hard core drug use. Attempted suicide. Some people came alongside to help.
