I grew up in a small suburban town outside of Houston, Texas, in a normal middle class family. I was in girl scouts, summer swim leagues, you name it I did it! My mom worked as an accountant for an oil company and my dad was vice president for a small trucking company. Here's a little insight into my parents background. My mom is of German descent. Her father was a southern Baptist preacher and her mother a homemaker. She was one of three children, all girls. My dad is of Sicilian descent, his father and mother were both born on ships coming to the United States. Their parents left Sicily to escape organized crime and poverty. Now my dad's father was a well, I don't know exactly what his job title was but he worked for some no named high ranking men who wore expensive suits, fedoras and trench coats and his mother was a homemaker. If you can't put Sicilian, and those three things together...just do me a favor and Google it! And they were devout Roman Catholics. He was one of six children, three girls, and three boys. Schoolwork and studying consumed my week days and on the weekends it was just my mom and I on shopping sprees, while dad tended the yard and did routine maintenance on their vehicles. The year is 1986; I was five years old, two weeks before my sixth birthday and two weeks and six days until my favorite holiday, Christmas. As I was imagining what Santa would bring me, I fell asleep. I'm not sure how long I'd slept, but it had swallowed me whole. Everything was normal until one night I went to sleep in my own bed and woke up in a strange and unfamiliar place. I was never afraid of the dark, the boogey man, or things under the bed; I embraced the night without trepidation, until now. I awoke in a dark and dank bunker like structure. Four basic walls, a small cot, and a bucket to relieve myself in. I had to pinch myself, hoping I would awake from this terror. It was cold, not temperature cold, but the creepy uncertain cold that made you shake almost violently and uncontrollably.