Uncle Ricky used to be the coolest uncle.

But after sometime away, locked up in a factory selling beer, he had changed.

He used to walk in, smelling clean and dressed nice, but he doesn't care about his appearance anymore.

He dresses in old, holy t-shirts, sweat pants, and his hair oily and disheveled.

What happened?

Oh yeah, and he's also an alcoholic.

He drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks as if he has dementia.

But then, this happened.

One strange night, I woke up tied down to a kitchen chair, gagged and everything.

When I looked down at my bindings, I noticed that my shirt was off... explains why I was so cold.

Removing the gag from my mouth, I wanted to ask him so much questions, but I could never get the chance to.

He shoved a turkey sandwich in my mouth, saying to "eat it," and that I "needed the energy".

Huh?

Instantly, I saw it in his hand... a sharp kitchen knife.

Watching him nervously, he sticks the blade into the fire lit on the stove before coming behind me.

"Be very still," he told me. "Don't move. The quicker I do this, the faster you'll be done."

He swiped my hair over my left shoulder, and leaned in carefully.

His hot breath was the first thing I felt, but then the searing pain came after.

I cried, I screamed, the man was torturing me... cutting me open on the middle of my back.

Why, Uncle Ricky? Why?

And as soon as I heard the knife echo onto the floor, I threw up and fainted on the spot.

Now I have the word "strong" forever marked into my skin... a tattoo that won't go away.