Chapter 1
After dealing with my aunt and her perverted ass boyfriend for two years, I had to find a way out. I got so tired of sleeping with knives, fighting his drunk ass off and getting accidentally busted in on in the shower. Even after I stabbed his ass he kept coming. My aunt was as stupid as his ass was. She believed every word that came out his mouth completely ruined what little relationship we had.
When I was just becoming a teenager my mother passed away, she decided one day that, that was the day to take her own life.
Life wasn’t sweet as pie for me before then neither, but at least I had her there with me. My dad was never around, he disappeared long before I could memorize his face.
My mother was in abusive relationships as far back as I can remember. No matter who she was with, they all seem to just pick up where the other one left off.
Watch her go through that not to mention being forced to be the other woman before even knowing what that meant at that age, but you do what you have to do protect your mother. If you can save her one night of pain it seems worth it so you close your eye’s and daydream to a different place and time, what kid wouldn’t that love their mom.
I remember watching her crawl to her bedroom after being beaten with a hammer just because it was Tuesday, {well that’s what it seems like to me.} That time it was a broken arm, a shattered knee and a lot of bumps and bruises. It was crazy like that, Some of these guy’s just hit her just because they could and she always let them back, Saying that she loved them and how she didn’t want to be alone.
Dealing with years of that had her in constant pain. I think she just gave up. I was thirteen at the time and coming home to find her gone was the worst day of my life.
After leaving my aunt’s house at fifteen, I was pretty much on my own, I slept on my friend Nikki’s couch for about six months, during that time I met Craig. He was 10 years older than me and I didn’t find out until later on. At the time, I didn’t care he had my head gone just off the fact that he gave me that attention and made me feel like I was loved and wanted. He would pick me up and dropped me off at school, he fed me and soon gave me a place to stay, with benefits of course. That was all I thought I needed.
He was average built, 6′2 a smooth mocha complexion with long french braids that he always wore braided straight to the back... He always kept the latest clothes and J’s on. Coming from where we were from, those were the things that caught your eye, when you didn’t know any better that is. As the months went by I thought I had someone that really cared about me.
Well, that’s what I thought before hugs quickly turned to hits and kisses to kicks.
No matter how much shit he put me through, I thought since no one knew what I was going through but my friend Nikki, I dealt with it and he drunk that shit right up.
I’m guessing like any man would, that couldn’t care less.
It’s not his fault, that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. Especially out here wishing for some shit that doesn’t exist, not in these streets anyway.
I was a hood dude’s dream chick, misguided, young and pretty. A girl that had no family or her family just said fuck it. They loved that they could treat you like shit and you have no one to turn to, I had no one. The best advice I can give anyone is, don’t get caught up trying to find your worth in someone else, you have to know it yourself first.
A man can’t value your worth or treat you like you need to be treated if he has no values.
Don’t get me wrong all hood dudes are not the same, it’s some that have been taught how to treat a woman by their grandparents most likely but others, the streets have taught them everything.
I tolerated him because that’s what I thought was the right way to love and be in a relationship. Even though I had seen my mom go through it a thousand times, I still believed it would get better.
Knowing what I know now, I know that I didn’t love him.
I don’t believe he loved me either.
All he knew was how to use me for what he wanted, I was young and dumb and me giving in whenever was my way of showing him what I thought was love.
The sex was good, it was the best thing in the relationship, it healed all wounds even if for only a little while.
I figured if he laid with me and told me he loved me while doing so, that was a good thing.
He was my first boyfriend so I was built around his likes and dislikes.
It took me a long time to see that, that wasn’t where I was supposed to be, the thing’s started to get worst. More arguing, more fighting, more drinking and more bullshit. I got very good at hiding bruises. By me having a darker complexion, bruises didn’t show up as much but they hurt like hell.
I start perfecting my craft doing makeup for friends, prom-goers and wedding parties etc.
My goals were to make enough money to buy me a car, pay for graduation and to go to LA, where I wanted to become a makeup artist, hopefully even for the stars I had to get away from here.
