Post by 4evahis on Jul 22, 2006 22:54:26 GMT -5
Wats good yall,, dis ya gurl LAcey AKA Fancy Face hittin yall up wit one of ma newest stories called Abused, i posted it on the otha board but they takin 4eva 2 activate my account so...im here now!!! im goin 2 psot the 1st chapter so hope yall like!!
~Lacey~
Chapter 1: The Beginning
When I was little, everything was perfect. I was living with my real mother and father. Up until the age of ten, I was part of a happy family. Then on my 10th birthday, everything went wrong. It all started jus before my surprise party…my mother was in the kitchen baking my cake, my father had just came home from work. When he walked in the kitchen all hell broke loose. I cried as I listened to the breaking of glass, yelling, screaming, and cursing. The screaming mostly came from my mother as my father beat her; the rest of the noise came from him. The last thing I remember was the smoke, the thick, black smoke. I started crying as my father dragged me out the house without my mother. As the swinging door swung, I saw my mother lying on the kitchen floor, motionless, and her face left with the expression of abuse. This living shit beat my poor mother to a bloody pulp. I screamed and cried for him to go back for my mother just in case she lived through the beating, but being the bitch that he is, he tightened his grip of me, and told me to “SHUT THE fuck UP OR YOU WILL BE JOINING YOUR SORRY ASS MOTHER!!” He made me watch my own mother, who brought me into this world, burn in that house. When the cops came, all they found was her burnt, limp body. They didn’t find the signs of abuse or the scars that she hid with make-up. He let her body burn with the house to free him self from murder. All the cops said to him was, “Your lucky you got out in time.” And left. I remember every night like clockwork, he would come home from a late shift at work and at the bar, beat my mother, then rape her…right in front of me. At that age I knew I couldn’t do anything to stop him from hurting my mother, I could have called the police but then that would have made it much worst. Call me a coward or wimp or wateva, but I knew if I ever so much have questioned him about why he beat my mother, I knew I would have been next in his list.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am now 17. The murderer of my mother doesn’t claim me anymore. Whenever someone asks who I am, he just says, “One of my hoes sons.” Or “He was dropped off on my doorstep.” and never speaks on it again. He has remarried to this lady named Tina. I was disowned at the age of 15, and the abused started at the age of 16. Of course I fought back but it was never fair. I did everything wrong in his eyes. Dreux Pierre Frederic was always wrong and never right. I made good grades, but to him they were not good enough, so he kicked me out of his house. I was living with my brother Rome and his girl La’nia AKA Nia. About a week or so later, there was a knock on the door. Come to find out that, that bastard called the cops on me and said I took his money and ran away. That was the second time some shit like that happened. Come to think about it, both times were the same cops, which Shawn knew. Na’Shawn Jason Smith, that’s his name. So he had me locked up for theft/larceny. The charge wasn’t as heavy as he wanted, so the program would have had to let me go, but knowing him he asked them to keep me until our court date, which was 4 months later. After I served the 4 months, Shawn tried it again, but they had to release me due to lack of evidence. When I came home he “introduced” me to his new and 3rd wife Tina Maria Sanchez. She was real nice to me but she thought I was a problem child, she never really talked to me. She noticed that everytime Shawn got drunk he would hit me. She kinda helped me out when she was there. When she saw that he was coming towards me, she would call his name to distract him, so I could leave the house. The abuse didn’t bother me much, hell I was around it all my life. The only thing that was different was the look in his eyes. The look like he really wanted me dead. After about 5 months of Tina and Shawn’s marriage, he started to beat her also. I remember saying to her, while she was crying and lying on the bathroom floor, “I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen now…it’s your fault.” The abuse stopped for her when she found out she was pregnant with his baby. This only made it worst for me. He continued to hit me only twice as hard, and twice as violent. I always did fight back but he would always cheat and hit me with wateva he could pick up. If he had a gun he would have shot me…I guess I lucked out on that one. September 3, when my stepsister was born, Shawn turned from an abusive murderer, to a caring, gentle, loving father. I haven’t seen him like this in 7 years. The baby was named mostly after Tina, but it was also Shawn’s favorite drink…Martina Aniaya Smith. She was a pretty baby, but looked nothing like Shawn. She was born with a head full of black curls. She’s almost 2 now; she can walk and talk pretty good too.
One night, I heard them arguing, just like him and momma used to. The rape usually came next, but instead I heard the door slam, and Martina crying loud. I got out of bed and went to see wat happened. Glass was everywhere. Tina was gone, and he was just sitting there, on the couch smoking weed and laughing. Martina was standing in the middle of the floor, screaming at the top of her lungs. I carried her into my room, told her to stop crying and to stay here until I come back with her bottle. She shook her head to let me know that she understood. I went into the kitchen, retrieved her bottle of juice, ignored his comments, and Martina and me went to sleep. Tina never came back. There’s this one time she did come back for her, but I could tell she was on drugs so I said no and told Tina that I would take care of Martina for her. She agreed and said, “Don’t let that bitch of a father touch her.” I said I wouldn’t, she smiled a lil, thanked me, kissed Martina, and me on the cheek, and left. That was the last time I saw Tina. Ever since then I have been caring for Martina as if she was my own daughter.
This is my life. My name is Dreux Pierre Frederic.
Bump 4 more
~Lacey~
Chapter 1: The Beginning
When I was little, everything was perfect. I was living with my real mother and father. Up until the age of ten, I was part of a happy family. Then on my 10th birthday, everything went wrong. It all started jus before my surprise party…my mother was in the kitchen baking my cake, my father had just came home from work. When he walked in the kitchen all hell broke loose. I cried as I listened to the breaking of glass, yelling, screaming, and cursing. The screaming mostly came from my mother as my father beat her; the rest of the noise came from him. The last thing I remember was the smoke, the thick, black smoke. I started crying as my father dragged me out the house without my mother. As the swinging door swung, I saw my mother lying on the kitchen floor, motionless, and her face left with the expression of abuse. This living shit beat my poor mother to a bloody pulp. I screamed and cried for him to go back for my mother just in case she lived through the beating, but being the bitch that he is, he tightened his grip of me, and told me to “SHUT THE fuck UP OR YOU WILL BE JOINING YOUR SORRY ASS MOTHER!!” He made me watch my own mother, who brought me into this world, burn in that house. When the cops came, all they found was her burnt, limp body. They didn’t find the signs of abuse or the scars that she hid with make-up. He let her body burn with the house to free him self from murder. All the cops said to him was, “Your lucky you got out in time.” And left. I remember every night like clockwork, he would come home from a late shift at work and at the bar, beat my mother, then rape her…right in front of me. At that age I knew I couldn’t do anything to stop him from hurting my mother, I could have called the police but then that would have made it much worst. Call me a coward or wimp or wateva, but I knew if I ever so much have questioned him about why he beat my mother, I knew I would have been next in his list.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am now 17. The murderer of my mother doesn’t claim me anymore. Whenever someone asks who I am, he just says, “One of my hoes sons.” Or “He was dropped off on my doorstep.” and never speaks on it again. He has remarried to this lady named Tina. I was disowned at the age of 15, and the abused started at the age of 16. Of course I fought back but it was never fair. I did everything wrong in his eyes. Dreux Pierre Frederic was always wrong and never right. I made good grades, but to him they were not good enough, so he kicked me out of his house. I was living with my brother Rome and his girl La’nia AKA Nia. About a week or so later, there was a knock on the door. Come to find out that, that bastard called the cops on me and said I took his money and ran away. That was the second time some shit like that happened. Come to think about it, both times were the same cops, which Shawn knew. Na’Shawn Jason Smith, that’s his name. So he had me locked up for theft/larceny. The charge wasn’t as heavy as he wanted, so the program would have had to let me go, but knowing him he asked them to keep me until our court date, which was 4 months later. After I served the 4 months, Shawn tried it again, but they had to release me due to lack of evidence. When I came home he “introduced” me to his new and 3rd wife Tina Maria Sanchez. She was real nice to me but she thought I was a problem child, she never really talked to me. She noticed that everytime Shawn got drunk he would hit me. She kinda helped me out when she was there. When she saw that he was coming towards me, she would call his name to distract him, so I could leave the house. The abuse didn’t bother me much, hell I was around it all my life. The only thing that was different was the look in his eyes. The look like he really wanted me dead. After about 5 months of Tina and Shawn’s marriage, he started to beat her also. I remember saying to her, while she was crying and lying on the bathroom floor, “I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen now…it’s your fault.” The abuse stopped for her when she found out she was pregnant with his baby. This only made it worst for me. He continued to hit me only twice as hard, and twice as violent. I always did fight back but he would always cheat and hit me with wateva he could pick up. If he had a gun he would have shot me…I guess I lucked out on that one. September 3, when my stepsister was born, Shawn turned from an abusive murderer, to a caring, gentle, loving father. I haven’t seen him like this in 7 years. The baby was named mostly after Tina, but it was also Shawn’s favorite drink…Martina Aniaya Smith. She was a pretty baby, but looked nothing like Shawn. She was born with a head full of black curls. She’s almost 2 now; she can walk and talk pretty good too.
One night, I heard them arguing, just like him and momma used to. The rape usually came next, but instead I heard the door slam, and Martina crying loud. I got out of bed and went to see wat happened. Glass was everywhere. Tina was gone, and he was just sitting there, on the couch smoking weed and laughing. Martina was standing in the middle of the floor, screaming at the top of her lungs. I carried her into my room, told her to stop crying and to stay here until I come back with her bottle. She shook her head to let me know that she understood. I went into the kitchen, retrieved her bottle of juice, ignored his comments, and Martina and me went to sleep. Tina never came back. There’s this one time she did come back for her, but I could tell she was on drugs so I said no and told Tina that I would take care of Martina for her. She agreed and said, “Don’t let that bitch of a father touch her.” I said I wouldn’t, she smiled a lil, thanked me, kissed Martina, and me on the cheek, and left. That was the last time I saw Tina. Ever since then I have been caring for Martina as if she was my own daughter.
This is my life. My name is Dreux Pierre Frederic.
Bump 4 more
