The Story of Rose A Voice That Was Never Heard

 

The Story of Rose: A Voice That Was Never Heard

Written By C.G. Mcfadden

Here is a part of her writings the day of and after, Shared from a young woman manifesto that was given to me during an interview with her foster parents that wanted her story out just her name protected. 

She wrote: My name isn’t really Rose. I choose that name because it feels like the girl I might have been — someone delicate, vibrant, and free. But my real life wasn’t like that.

I grew up knowing the kind of darkness that most people can’t imagine. My own mother — the person meant to protect me — treated me like a bargaining chip. She let men do things to me in exchange for the things she wanted. I didn’t understand it when I was small. I just knew that I was scared, that I hurt, and that I wanted her to make it stop.

I learned early that begging didn’t work. Begging her. Begging the men. Begging the teachers at school. Begging the kids who laughed and tormented me to just leave me alone. The more I asked for peace, the more they seemed to take it as a challenge to break me. Every day was a fresh bruise — sometimes on my body, sometimes deep inside my mind.

I got into fights a few times, not because I wanted to, but because I was cornered. People said I was “trouble.” No one ever asked why I was fighting. No one wanted to know what was behind the walls I’d built.

And so I lived in silence — carrying my pain like a second skin. Years passed, and nothing changed. Nobody listened. Nobody stopped it.

One day, I decided I couldn’t keep living like that. The years of cruelty, the beatings, the laughter at my expense, the way adults looked away — it all came to a breaking point. That day, I created my own peace. The world calls it something else.

The headlines said “Violent Outburst” and “Troubled Girl Snaps.” They painted me as the villain. Nobody wrote about the years of abuse. Nobody showed the proof that I had been crying out for help since I was a child. In their story, I was just “the crazy one.”

Now I live behind concrete walls and locked doors. I will never see the outside again. The ones who hurt me are gone, but so is my freedom.

If you’re reading this, I want you to remember: people don’t just break out of nowhere. If someone seems angry, if someone lashes out, ask yourself what got them there. Because behind so many “monsters” are children who were never saved.