We tried everything possible to make his life normal. He studied in a very good school. He tried to study hard and behave very well. Nevertheless, society had a hard time accepting him.
I had twenty-seven operations and four plastic surgery operations. When I got out of the hospital nine months later I looked okay on the outside; but inside I was still wounded.
One day he brought a friend with him to also have sex with me. I then realized he didn’t love me. He just thought he could use me and get sex from me.
"When I gave my life to Jesus he started dealing with the fears I had. Other things started changing as well. And I found that what once was an object of hate became an object of compassion."
But I couldn’t escape the idea that suicide would be a good escape. It was like I was holding on the casket of my wife, and as morbid as it sounds was like I was being buried. I remember picturing myself breaking my grip with...