“Even though he married me, the love was only one-sided. I was 15 years when I left Kathmandu to stay at his village home, taking care of his mother and three brothers. It was a typical village life of a farmer, very different from the life I was used to in the city. However, I was happy that finally I had a place that I could call home. Soon after I was pregnant. What hurt me the most was I never received any support from my husband. I could deal with his lack of emotions towards me but I think I started getting resentful towards him when he, as a father, did not provide anything for my son. He gambled away his money and at many times was happy with other girls. Slowly he started getting violent towards me and every other day we fought. I would punch him back but I was no match for his strength. When my son was 18 months, I ran away from home. The torture was unbearable. In Kathmandu, my father in law came to visit me and asked me for my son. He promised me that he would take care of him. He told me I could work and make a living for myself. I agreed. Soon, I found work as a waitress in a night club. I would wait tables until 2 in the morning. I was making money to support myself and the expenses of my son. Even though I was already separated with my husband he would somehow find my whereabouts and create a scene. This along with all of life’s experiences drew me towards self-destruction. I was bitter. I felt all my life people had used me. And I was resentful towards life. I started resorting to alcohol and marijuana. I remember one day, my husband came to my friend’s house where I was staying at the time and beat me senseless. The next day, I got a bag of brown sugar from my dealer and smoked it with my friends. And in no time I was doing all kind of drugs and concocting chemicals. And in those loud but lonely nights, unfamiliar friends and the affect of drugs, I found some relief. In that high, I forgot my troubles, I forgot my pain and with that I also forgot my only son.” (Annie Sunuwar, Kathmandu)