True Story of Childhood Trauma Can I Come Home Now? In this heart-wrenching yet empowering memoir, author Barbara takes readers on a harrowing journey from the innocence of childhood to the complexities of adulthood, revealing the deep scars left by betrayal and abuse. At just five years old, Barbara's world is shattered as she faces unimaginable trauma at the hands of those who should have protected her. Shuttled between relatives after her family’s disintegration, she becomes a target for predators who exploit her vulnerability, leaving her grappling with a fractured sense of self-worth...

Unwanted and homeless from day one: Social services found Jennie a new home. Tragically she was enslaved into a brutal regime of horrific abuse, extreme neglect, loss and degrading humiliation with foster parents. It continued behind closed doors in a seemingly well-respected household for twenty-three years. The foster family trafficked her to other sickening perpetrators of organised abuse rings. The death of both foster parents did not stop the hideous abuse, which continued for decades as they hunted down Jennie and her son despite moving thirty-six times. Jennie developed DID ...

From the ages of 11-24, the author was subjected to sexual, mental and physical abuse by her biological father. She told no-one about the abuse until she was 65 years old. Even her husband of over 40 years was unaware of her past. But when she finally found the courage to tell all, her daughters and husband encouraged her to write "No Tears for my Father" in the hope it would help other victims of incest to realize they are not alone. "No Tears for my Father" earned the author, Viga Boland, a Gold Medal in the 2014 Readers Favorite Book Awards. Her book trailer video on YouTube has had ...

The first major book in a quarter century on suicide—and its terrible pull on the young in particular—Night Falls Fast is tragically timely: suicide has become one of the most common killers of Americans between the ages of fifteen and forty-five.

On one of those magically white winter nights, my mother took me in her arms and shut the doors behind her. We left my drunken father in the name of a better life. And the name of that better life was Tom, a local gangster with the face of the devil himself. I remember looking at my mother's bloody face bashed into the ground, teeth scattered around her limp body. I understood then that one of us was going to die. Fortunately, I was right!