I remember my childhood clearly, when I lived back home in Brazil. I can recall the beatings, the abuse, the abandonment and the unhappiness. My mother beat me for any and every reason until my body was covered in bruises. One day she did it with a football boot; I thought I was going to die. What hurt the most was the hatred I saw in her eyes. I couldn’t understand why she despised me so much.

I was still a little girl when my uncle, who was 15 at the time, sexually abused me. I lost my precious innocence, and my eyes were opened to pornography. I was nine when the addiction started, but up until today, I still don’t know how I got access to it. I just remember looking at magazines and fantasising about the scenes I’d watch. When I was 10, I had the desire to experience what it was like to be with a man, and I would secretly meet them. They were usually older than me and they were the ones to initiate conversation and flirt with me.

I ran away from home when I was just 14 to be with my boyfriend at the time. Our four-year relationship was a period of time that I describe only as ‘hell.’ He left me with nothing but debts when he found out I was pregnant. Refusing to go back home, I stayed alone and struggled desperately with thoughts of killing my baby girl.

As I slept at night, I felt my body being touched and engaging in intercourse, although I couldn’t control it. I could see “him” – a black figure with wings,