_{Raising Awareness On Sexual & Ritual Abuse}Victorious Heart
Author of: "Unlocking Buried Secrets" & "Unlocking Buried Secrets #2: Healing From Satanic Ritual Abuse Workbook For Male & Female Survivors"

Hello, my name is Victorious Heart.
I want to promote my books to help survivors of Sexual Abuse & Satanic Ritual Abuse. It is important to me to help others who have been affected by these kinds of devastating abuse and this is the way I have chosen to do it. I grew up in a multi-generational Satanic Cult/ Mind Control/ Masons. I left home at 16 years of age and began my healing process. My hope is that I can in some way use what has happened to me, to make a difference and let the survivor know that he or she is not alone, and that healing is possible.

• My Books
• Excerpt Book 1
• Resources

Information On My Books: "Unlocking Buried Secrets", & "Unlocking Buried Secrets #2: Healing From Satanic Ritual Abuse Workbook For Male & Female Survivors"My first book "Unlocking Buried Secrets" is my story of surviving a multigenerational Satanic Cult/ Mind Control/ Masons. My book is an autobiography in chronological order of what I can remember of my life and the abuse. I left home at 16 yrs of age and began my healing process. My book is very graphic in nature describing the abuse that I endured. I have included a lot of nightmares, flashbacks and memories as well as some poetry that I wrote during the crisis period when I was flooded with memories and flashbacks. This book covers the abuse, traumatic memories, dissociation, mind control, brainwashing and programming. My book covers the ages of 6-33 yrs of age. I have used a pseudonym to ensure my privacy. My hope is that my story will inspire as well assist the survivor in his or her healing journey.I am presently working on a 2nd edition of "Unlocking Buried Secrets" with a Bonus Chapter.My second book "Unlocking Buried Secrets #2: Healing From Satanic Ritual Abuse Workbook For Male & Female Survivors", is a resource for survivors, their partners, and therapists.
My story is updated since writing my first book in the Preface section.
Some of the topics covered in this book are: *Building Survivor Skills *Recognizing The Effects The Abuse Has Had On Your Life *Self Esteem *Getting In Touch With Your Inner Child *Feelings *Trust Issues *Healthy VS Unhealthy Relationships *Triggers *Programming/ Brainwashing & Mind Control *Dissociation *Memories *Confronting Your Abuser & Cutting Ties With Family *Loss *Forgiveness *Survivors Share Their Stories *For Supporters Of SurvivorsMy first book is available on Kindle and Amazon eBook & print format/ My second book will be available on Amazon soon in print format.

• Unlocking Buried Secrets (On Amazon)

• My Author Profile/ Amazon

Excerpt from: "Unlocking Buried Secrets"

Chapter One_{One of the first memories I have of being a little girl is standing on our front lawn…it is summer….my Aunt, also my mother’s sister is visiting us from Windsor Ontario, and she is thrilled to be in B.C. …she is smiling and looks angelic to me in the sunshine…I look at her long, pretty blonde hair and wish she would stay forever…I have the gift she brought me in my hair…red, bobble ponytail holders with a big smiley face on them…I am so happy she is here…and I don’t want her to leave…}In the Beginning~My parents both grew up in Windsor, Ontario and met in high school…I’m not sure if they went to the same one but I know this is how they met…my mother came from a poor family that was extremely violent and abusive...her father, my grandfather was an alcoholic from the age of 16 till the day he died…he would beat my mother and her siblings and terrorize them by trying to kill their mother on a daily basis…the police were always at their house….but no charges were ever laid…my mother’s grandparents (her father’s parents) lived upstairs in their tiny house and were from my mother’s description abusive as well…my father came from a very wealthy background and in my mother’s opinion, his family seemed to be one of love and respect…though judging by my father’s violent nature and the way I saw him become stressed and violent when we would fly to Ontario to visit his father, my grandfather…and watching the deliberate display of hatred and anger he carried towards his father...I’d have to say my mother’s evaluation of his family had been incorrect…I was able to see all of this as a child…maybe my mother just so desperately wanted to believe…and wanted to get away from the abuse in her own family… my mother told me that throughout high school my father pursued her and wouldn’t take no for an answer…she eventually accepted a date with him and they soon became an item…after they graduated from high school, they were married and moved to Scarborough, Ontario for 8 months before moving to Maple Ridge, British Columbia to start their life and their family…I was born in New Westminster, B.C. in May of 1970 and my sister was born the following summer in August…I do not remember where my parents first lived, but remember the house that I spent most of my childhood…the house that has haunted me all these years…while this house was being built, we lived in a trailer in the back yard…my father wanted the house built to his liking and I am guessing it was his dream house…I remember my mother making my sister and I matching raggedy-Ann doll aprons…I watched her make these in the trailer and I couldn’t wait to wear mine…I think I was about 4 or 5 yrs old…I loved my mother and she was my world…my sister and I were inseparable…we did everything together…and comforted each other when things would get bad …we lived on a small farm of 2 acres…one acre in the front yard…and one acre in the back…we had a long winding driveway that led up the hill to our house…we had a small barn out back that my father built housing our chickens….and a small pond to the side of the barn that my father also made for our ducks…we had a dog named ‘Dukey’…he was part Doberman and part Rottweiler…we had lots of cats… ‘Pookie’, ‘Softie’, ’Panther’, ‘Butterscotch’ ‘Patches’ and ‘Butterfly’ …some of these cats later had lots of kittens…my sister had a budgie named ‘Bluebells’…and I had a hamster named ‘Hammy’…my parents enrolled us in a private roman catholic school that believed in the ‘strap’ or corporal punishment, and we received a good education…we had a Valiant and a VW van …my mother produced a lot of vegetables in her big garden out in the back yard…and grew sunflowers…to outsiders…it looked like we had it all.Grade 1: 6yrs oldPoem:
“Alone in the night”Alone
In between the cold sheets
She lay
Watching the shadows dance on the walls
Wondering when she'd hear
The familiar crack
Of her father's ankles
Staring at the crack of light
Underneath her bedroom door
She waited for what?
She didn't know
All she knew was that she was terrified
And wished she could fly out her bedroom window
Into the night
With the birds she could hear in the eavesdropsIt is the middle of the night…and I have just gotten up to go to the bathroom which is odd as I wet my bed for years because I was terrified that I would be killed by a monster if I were to let my feet touch the floor and actually make it to the bathroom and back…I remember sitting on the toilet…I remember going pee…I remember trying to get off the toilet…I remember I couldn’t…I remember I fell off the toilet…I remember crying for help…I remember my face felt weird and I couldn’t move the left side of my body…I remember my parents rushing into the bathroom …I remember my father’s anger and fear at the situation…I remember my mother pleading with my father…I remember the car ride to the local hospital…I was on the back seat laying on the dog blanket crying and screaming…I remember watching my father drive…I remember my father turning around and screaming at me from the front seat as I was upsetting him…I think we almost got into an accident…I remember the windshield wipers going…it was raining…I remember being in the emergency room…I was still screaming…I remember the doctor’s asking my father to leave…I remember the doctors talking to me and sticking my left foot with pins to see if I had any feeling in my left foot…I had none…the next thing I remember is laying in a new bed in a new hospital…I was in Vancouver General Sick Kids Hospital…I do not remember how I got there, though I assume by helicopter…I had just had a stroke at the age of 6…I stayed at the hospital for 9 days before my mother went against the doctors orders and took me home…she and my father were angry at the doctors for putting me through all the tests…I remember being in a big machine …I was placed on a sliding table that slid into the center of the machine…I was given an I.V. which put dye into my blood stream so they could look at my brain on their computers and see where the blood clot was…I remember getting fluid taken out of my spine with a big needle…I remember being asked to draw a picture of myself next to my family….I remember drawing myself really tiny and my mother and sister bigger and my father taking up almost the whole page…I remember being moved to another room and I had a new roommate…I remember looking out this new window that was beside my bed …I saw the smoke from the smoke stacks…I wanted to jump out this window and fly to heaven with Jesus…this was the first time I wanted to take my life…and definitely not the last…I remember my mother coming to the hospital a lot with my sister…I remember on one occasion she brought my friend Lynda and her sister from my private catholic school to visit me…my sister and the girls all had Mac Donald’s to eat …I remember crying about this as I couldn’t keep anything down…I remember one of the hospital tests I had done involved them giving me gas to put me to sleep…they did an internal exam on me among other tests to try to find reasons or cause for my stroke…the doctors were puzzled as to what caused the blood clot in my brain and suspected abuse…they took x-rays of my skull…they did a throat culture…I remember being put on aspirin and I recovered completely in 4 days…I remember running and playing in the hallway…I remember wanting to be pushed in the wheel chairs…I remember my father only coming a couple of times…I remember one time he came I yelled at him that I hated him and didn’t want to see him anymore…I remember him leaving, upset…I remember my parents taking me to the cancer ward and showing me the children who really were sick…I remember them being angry that I was so upset …I remember feeling that I had nothing to cry about…that I was being self centered…that I was in some way bad for feeling upset at my situation…my situation…my stroke would come back to haunt me…for my mother would put me through tests from this time until I left home, and later writing me letters asking me to get more tests after I left home…asking me to call the stroke foundation as a last ditch effort to explain my memories of abuse, and reasons that I had flashbacks and was so depressed…she would do her best to try and prove that I had brain damage from my stroke…to cover the truth of what my father was doing to me.Back at home life seemed to return to normal…whatever that was…normal to me was yelling and screaming…things being thrown…my mother crying…my sister and I crying….being hit…beaten with wooden spoons, belts whatever wouldn’t hurt my father’s hands…if he hurt his hands he would blame me and he would beat me with something else…he would beat me until I cried…he would beat me because I cried…he would beat me if I refused to cry…he would beat me until I could no longer breathe…he would beat me to make me breathe…he would also take me into my bedroom and take off my clothes as he beat me…instructing my mother that she was to stay out of it…normal was also having my head smashed into my sister’s…my father would grab my sister and I by the hair and smash our heads together if we were both pissing him off…he thought this was funny …my father was very sadistic in his approach to ‘discipline’ as he called it…he believed that ‘children should be seen and not heard’…he felt no shame in his raging outbursts…they would take place anywhere and anytime…being in public made no difference to him…and they were a daily part of my life…I also remember my father making a ‘no underwear under my nightgown’ rule…and on one particular occasion, my mother had gone out for the night and he had my sister and I take a bath before bed…I came into the living room after my bath…he was watching the TV. …he immediately was angered as he didn’t think I had spent enough time in the bath tub and that I couldn’t have possibly used any soap…he had me stand over top of him as he laid on the floor…he lifted my night gown and spread me apart…he put his face in my vagina more than once and proceeded to smell me for quite some time to ‘see’ if I had indeed used any soap…I remember crying and shaking in fear, begging him to stop and praying for it to end…life for me as a child was a constant state of fear and dread…never knowing what would happen or when…I would spend most of my time out doors as a way to escape my fathers anger and watchful gaze, but he always seemed to be watching and would find me…I would climb trees and hide in them…I would try out different plants and take vegetables from my mothers garden so I could stay away as long as possible…when I had to be in the house and my father was home, I would spend as much time as I was allowed hiding too…I remember around this age, of hiding from my father on one particular occasion…he wanted to take me on a ‘drive’…I ran and hid in the basement behind a door which led to his tool room which led to the door that led to the driveway in behind the stairs as they were behind this door and I held my breath…I could hear my father tearing through the house, yelling at my mother as to where I was…finally he flew down the stairs in a rage and left…I think I stayed there for a long time…life for me was horrible…I used to listen for the sound of my father’s ankles to judge where he was in the house…his ankles made a loud cracking noise when he walked…my father would never allow me to close or lock any door in the house …including the bathroom and my bedroom door.He would demand that I get undressed for bed as he watched…I used to cry and try to hide behind my door as I changed …and caught him looking at me through the crack yelling the whole time that if I were to close the door, he would make me wish that I hadn’t…the only good thing in my life at this point and for the next few years would be my mother…she was loving and kind to me during these years and was in my opinion an excellent mother...she was and is extremely religious and in the years to come she would use her religion as a shield to hide behind…my mother tried to intervene and protect my sister and I…but she would soon tier of the abuse she took for helping us and would eventually stop being my protector …she later joined forces with my father against me…she would spend time with me and my sister…she often made us picnic lunches and we would sit in the back yard and watch our ducks in the pond…she would sew my sister and I pretty dresses and teach us to macramé…she taught me how to garden and take care of our dog, cats, chickens and ducks…I wish I could freeze this image I have of my mother…for to me she was perfect …my father on the other hand was not religious at all…he is an atheist…someone who does not believe in God…I soon learned what he did believe in …and it had nothing to do with Christianity…he taught me how to kill chickens in a barbaric way…he taught me how to keep looking when I didn’t want to…he taught me how to watch without crying or flinching…he taught me how to gut and take out the feathers of my friends…and taught me how to not throw up and avoid being hit or dragged away from the table when he made fun of me for not realizing that I was eating my favorite chicken…yes…my father taught me many things in my life…he taught me about the moon and the stars…and said that he and I were ‘different’ from others…that ‘we’ were ‘special’, him and I …that we had a 6th sense…E.S.P. …but he taught me mostly how to fear him …I taught myself how to cope with it all.I started showing signs of obsessive compulsive disorder and would do everything in three’s…especially kissing my stuffed animals and dolls each night three times before I went to sleep so they wouldn’t kill me…I would also rearrange my bedroom…always moving my bed so the monster wouldn’t find me…I had my mother tuck me in on all three sides of the bed, tight up to my chin…thinking that this would somehow help…this was also the age that I started having violent nightmares…I would wake everyone up with my screaming in the middle of the night…a monster was trying to kill me…hurt me in ways I couldn’t put into words…words that would later translate into rape and torture…these would continue into my adult years, and I would not identify my attacker until I reached the age of 13…another thing I started doing around this age and continued for most of my childhood was finding different ways to end my life…and because I had no knowledge of how to properly commit suicide…I would do harmful things to myself in hopes of going to heaven with Jesus and the angels…I would sit behind the car everyday before school when my mother had it warming up and breath in the exhaust fumes from the tailpipe…I would go through my fathers chemicals and try to consume them and sniff them…at night, I would say the prayer “ If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take”…in hopes that the monster would not kill me and Jesus would come into my room and take me to heaven with the angels…I said this prayer for years, becoming more and more convinced that Jesus just didn’t care about me…I begged him to take me home with him…I guess he never heard me…I had as a child, and still have as an adult, the fear of dying, and of being killed…and of fearing those close to me would die or be killed …I also started mutilating myself…scratching the word ’bad girl’ into my arms…and sticking myself with pins…I scratched myself with branches and twigs from our yard…I would be fascinated with watching my blood appear on my skin and this would somehow calm me…I tried to run away from home once too…I got my school bag …and a sweater and made it as far as the end of our property …I turned around and went home…knowing at this young age that I wasn’t old enough to take care of myself…I was a very timid, insecure and fearful child…struggling with an intense sadness and a sense of aloneness…I definitely felt alone in the world.Poem:
“Crazy”Dark
Always dark
Can't see...can't breathe
Feel like I am going to die from all the pain
Alone in my mind
Alone with him
Always him
Bring in the others
Bring in the torture
Bring in the sexual perverted acts
Then comes the humiliation
The laughter
The sick and twisted games
Games
Play with children
Play with minds
Play with evil
Play with death
Death
Death of my soul.......(End of Excerpt)