The Blood on my Hands: An Autobiography by Shannon O’Leary


The Blood on my Hands


I won’t lie, but this autobiography was hard to read from beginning to end.  Hard being a mild understatement.  So many questions had ran through my mind as I was engulfed in a trapped world.  An abusive world that had chained Shannon O’Leary and her family for a long time.  As I turned each and every page, carefully reading the horrors she was faced with, along with her family, against her father, I began to feel a certain type of way.  Sadness.  Fear.  Panic.  The list can go on and on.  How do you escape from the person who is supposed to love you and instead they hate you and abuse you in the worse possible way.  Things  seemed to go from bad to worse and reading from the outside,  I was praying he would change.  As much as they tried to get out they always seemed to be pulled back in, always uncertain and worried that their days were outnumbered.  But, in spite of such terror that was exposed, it’s safe to say there is a happy ending after all.  I commend Shannon for being strong enough to share her story.  It’s always a blessing to be able to come out of something alive when everything inside you wanted to die.

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