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Annette MojicaProfessor Dawn Miller November 13, 2009

The Road Less Traveled

Life has been a struggle for me. Life has not been easy at all. Constantly hiding from the police and running from my parents, walking from street to street, drinking and smoking weed toforget the mental pain of a rape, sitting in between the cell walls at Juvenile Hall, stealing to beable to feed myself and to pay my rent. But now, I am graduating high school and movingforward in life. My name is Annette Mojica and this is my story of a road less traveled.My first road was a dark one. I started drinking alcohol and smoking weed when I wastwelve and a half. The situation worsened when I was raped at 14. I drank to forget about the pain I felt. The disgust in my body led me to try to kill myself and to drinking as much as I did.In every drink of alcohol I took, there was this horrible memory: me, lying in the kitchen floor fighting back, telling him to “Stop! I’m a virgin!” These memories will haunt me forever.Luckily, I met this young man whose name is Antonio. He became my boyfriend andhelped me stop my drug use. My family hated my boyfriend because his family was “ghetto”,and because he was a gang member. In my eyes, he was the perfect boy. I loved him and I didn’tcare what my parents thought about him. We would see each other behind my parents back; itwas a prohibited love. Only in school were we able to see each other and talk and cuddle like wewanted to. When my parents found out that we were seeing each other, I would be beaten up bymy father, and all privileges taken away as well. Both my mother and father would insult me,

calling me ugly names for being with him. I would cry day and night because they wouldn’t letme be with my boyfriend, but what they didn’t understand was that his love is what saved mefrom an indescribable despair and a lifestyle that would have eventually killed me. As their frustration increased, I stopped caring completely about what my parents thought or said. I lostrespect for them and I started sneaking him into my house. I would go to his house before andafter school and even ditch school just to spend time with him.On May 1, 2007 Antonio got locked up. I got home from what I told my mom was“school,” but she already knew I had gone to his court hearing. My mother beat me. She wasfurious, but my rage had built up as well, and I lay my hands on her too. I was done with all of her and my father’s name callings, insults and beatings. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I ran awayfrom my home. I was living both at my boyfriend’s mom’s house and at a friend’s house. Myeveryday thing was to hang out and drink. Nothing really mattered to me, just my boyfriend.After all the trouble I caused, hitting my mother, cracking beer bottles in the street, and gettinginto fights with other girls, I eventually was caught by the police. I was charged with assault and battery against my mother because she had pressed charges against me. I was locked up for amonth, having to put up with girls who had no regard for their own lives -- girls that, at the time,I thought were my friends or even my new family. After my time was served, I was released tomy parents under probation for a year.I promised my parents that I was going to start all over and do well. I enrolled into CortezHill Academy and earned excellent grades. My boyfriend and I wouldn’t see each other or evenspeak to each other as much. Everything went well for about two months until I got into a fightand ran away from my house again.My boyfriend and I rented a bedroom with my friend. There were always arguments for no particular reason. Twice it came down to an assault. He was running the streets all day,

everyday with his friends while I was in my bedroom crying and thinking about my family andregretting all the bad actions I had done. Antonio was hustling to feed me and himself. We gotkicked out and we had to spend the night with different people in different places. We wouldspend the day with my boyfriend’s aunt and when the night came we would go to a friend’shouse. I was always tired, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I couldn’t. I was pregnant with myfirst baby so it was really hard on me. I miscarried when I was 1 month and 15 days. I wasoverwhelmingly disappointed because I really wanted my baby. I thought he might provide thehappiness I so desperately needed.We got our own apartment, Antonio was never home. He was out with who he thoughtwere his “homies”. I didn’t work or attend school because I was afraid of getting caught and putin the hall once again. I was living a life I didn’t like, but I didn’t know how to get off the road Ihad already traveled so far down. I went to my parent’s house to ask for forgiveness. Theyaccepted me and showed me a lot of love. They were happy to see that their daughter was doingwell after eight long months. My parents did not turn me in to the police because of the newnews that arrived with me: I was pregnant with my son, Michael.Antonio got locked up again and I was left with the responsibility to pay the apartment’srent. I didn’t have any food in the refrigerator and I was too embarrassed to ask my parents for food. I didn’t have a job to pay the rent so I was forced to steal to get money for my needs. After three months of doing what I was doing I got caught up by the police

again

. This time I wascharged with burglary and I did two months for this charge. Trapped in those four walls, I wouldsit in my bunk and cry. I would cry for all the mistakes I committed and for the pain I caused myloved ones. Feeling my son moving in my little belly, I would promise him over and over againthat mommy was going to change for his well-being. I promised that this time his mother wasgoing to take the road less traveled.