Silent Screams E-Book

Ariel Cooper

• Herausgeber: Spines
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Ariel, a dynamic young woman, has been haunted by a recurring nightmare since childhood, where she sees the world ending and herself plummeting into hell. Each dream begins differently but inevitably ends with the ground collapsing into a fiery abyss that swallows her. From a young age, Ariel could see spirits that tormented her both awake and asleep, leading to a lifelong fear of the dark. Her attempts to share these visions were met with disbelief, forcing her to suffer in silence.



In this silence, Ariel struggled with severe alcohol and sex addiction, alongside numerous failed relationships. Her lifelong quest for love, driven by deep-seated issues of paternal abandonment, only led to repeated heartbreak. Despite these setbacks, Ariel never lost hope in finding true love. However, feeling utterly alone and broken, she often found herself crying out for help, even in her sleep, but her pleas went unheard. No knight in shining armor came to rescue her. Confused and desperate, she questioned why she could see spirits when others could not.



In her darkest moments, Ariel contemplated suicide but ultimately chose to seek life and answers. She turned to God, beginning a journey of spiritual warfare to find both love and her true purpose. This marked a new chapter in her life, one where she fought for clarity and strength in facing the unseen forces that plagued her.

Leseprobe

Ariel Cooper

Silent Screams

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2024 

by Ariel Cooper

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Isbn: 979-8-89383-438-3

SILENT SCREAMS

ARIEL COOPER

CONTENTS

Prologue

1. The Beginning

2. High School

3. Matt and Johnathan

4. Senior Year

5. Train Session

6. The End of High School

7. Runaway Girl

8. David

9. False Prophet

10. The Day I Met Andy

11. In Death’s Waiting Room

12. Steven

13. A Blast from My Past

14. Wake Up Call

15. We Broke Up

16. Trying to Move On

17. Crazy Love

18. Samiya and Amiya

19. First Night Back From Texas

20. Lies and Betrayal

21. Running In Circles

22. The DNA Results

23. Coming out of Isolation

24. It Glitters But It’s Not Gold

25. The Witch and the Warlock

26. The New Beginning

PROLOGUE

Damn! Hell is clearly right here on earth. If when I die I still have to go to hell then I’m fucked! Have you ever been in a fight: and in the beginning you felt notorious because you were winning, but then the fight lasted so damn long you became really tired and was just like fuck it, you can just kick my ass because I’m too tired to fight back. I found that life has the power to completely snatch a fight out of you. It makes you just completely feel like giving up. All of a sudden the passion you once had is replaced by a fuck it attitude. Whatever happens, will just happen. That’s how I feel right now. I desperately need a couple of shots of Patron to numb my unrelenting thoughts of suicide. I’ve been praying and pleading with God to cleanse me and change my life. I know it’s not true, but I often feel like when I pray God has caller id and when He sees it’s me calling for Him, He’s like, “Oh, it’s just Ariel begging again!” I’m not answering her yet and hits the ignore button.”

I’m only 24 years old, yet I feel like I’ve lived the life of a 90 year old woman. At this point in my life, all I know is struggle and sorrow. I’m in an all out search for this so called happiness and fulfillment which doesn’t even seem to exist. Sometimes I wish fragments of my life weren’t real, and I was being filmed on the show Punk’d. Sometimes I wish Ashton Kutcher would just come running out with the camera rolling saying, “You’ve just been punk’d!”  Then we’d all start laughing. I’d probably laugh the hardest with tears in my eyes saying, “Oh my God Ashton, you got me real good man!” Only, life is a bitch and all my struggles are as real as the clouds in the sky.

I have a very serious question that I know many will not be able to answer, but I’m hoping someone can. What do you do when you know with all your heart and soul and with every fiber of your body that heaven and hell truly do exist. I mean, when you can truly understand that the devil does exist and that he and hell are both as real as your fingers on your hands.  How are you supposed to live? Well, let me tell you life is very, and I mean extremely hard when the devil is trying to kill you every day. Meanwhile, you also know the spirit of the Lord is living in you. I can have absolute peace one minute and by the end of the day be seriously ready to slice my damn wrist! That’s my life every single day. I don’t want to offend those who don’t believe in Jesus or God, but all I can do is share my story that is all based on actual events. I’ve heard the voice of the Lord call my name literally in a room that only I was in when I was 17 years old. What I heard was a loud whisper call my name, and it honestly scared the hell out of me.  I grew up seeing spirits and going through spiritual war fares. I’m a grown ass woman terrified of the dark.  

Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Ariel. Anyone that is around me long periods of time can clearly identify that I have a drinking problem. I drink every single day. My soul is so distorted and tortured that I can’t attempt to have any fun without purchasing some type of liquor. If I don’t drink, then it’s simply impossible for me to enjoy myself. I can’t be around a guy or even sometimes friends without drinking. The interaction with them isn’t enough to save me from my feelings of unfulfillment and utter disappointment with my life. So, if I don’t drink when I’m with them then it’s impossible for me to relax. When I’m alone and my loneliness attacks me full force or when my mind attacks me, I drink. Drinking allows me to temporarily escape from my low self-esteem and escape from issues I’m trying to avoid. It allows me to temporarily feel like everything will be okay. I’m happy temporarily. I must put emphasis on the word temporarily.

I’m also what some may consider a sex addict. It’s like I got a lust demon inside of me. I want it all the time. I’ve learned that women who are sexually abused will either hate sex and have intimacy problems, or overly love sex and become very promiscuous. I fell into the second category. I’m a very sexual person and probably enjoy sex more than your average woman. Of course, it was something that was forced on me in the beginning, but as time has passed, it’s now something I also use as a method to numb my thoughts. I love indulging in the interaction of a man penetrating me for some reason. Intercourse for me compensates for the lack of unconditional love that I have yet to find from a man. Of course, a man will tell you anything and will treat you as if he loves you as long as he’s inside you, but once he nuts it’s a wrap. When it comes to sex, I’m really open minded and all about pleasing that man. Yet, I’m single and don’t have a man. 

I’m a very pretty girl with nice features and even though I know I’m not ugly, my battle of low self-esteem continues. My body has shape and curves, and I drip sex appeal. I love dressing and looking sexy. I’m usually always looking hood fabulous. My hair is usually blonde, and I love rocking big hoop earrings. Guys who know me usually describe me as being a cool ass party girl. I have a reputation of someone that you’re bound to have fun with. I love to laugh and have fun. Most guys are attracted to my around the way look but appreciate I don’t have a hood attitude. It’s easy to see that I’m very intelligent with a good head on my shoulders. I’m pretty laid back, but sometimes when I’m drinking, I can be a real bitch. Once I start drinking, the jury doesn’t have to come back with the verdict for you to conclude I’m a few fuses short of a light bulb.

Oh yeah, I have a one-year-old son. I couldn’t imagine anyone that would be so selfish and cruel hearted to bring a child into all this bullshit, but I guess I’m guilty as charged. In my own defense, it wasn’t my fault. The devil had me completely convinced I needed a baby so I would feel loved and have the fulfillment I was searching for. I thought it would change my life. Believe you me it did alright. Now, I have an extra person to take care of, an extra mouth to feed, another person to try to protect besides myself, someone’s needs who must come before my own, and another person who just might end up disappointed in me. The load of my burdens has doubled if not tripled. I’m now responsible for guiding a precious life in the right direction when I’m completely lost and can’t even get my own shit together. Don’t get me wrong now my son is truly a blessing from God. He’s the reason I’m not dead yet. He’s the only reason why I haven’t given up and keep crying unto the lord for strength.

Now that I’ve given you a brief overview of myself, I know you’re probably wondering how I got myself to this point of complete distress. I often wonder the same thing. I always felt I was supposed to be destined for great things and I wasn’t your average person. The hand I was dealt in life is some straight bullshit. Somebody must be cheating or something. I don’t even want to play this garbage ass hand no more. Nevertheless, I’m going to bare my soul to you and reveal all the secrets of my life from beginning up until this present time. All I ask is you don’t judge me.

ChapterOne

THE BEGINNING

I didn’t have a bad childhood. I think it’s safe to say it was different, but my mom worked very hard to build great childhood memories that I still cherish till this day. I grew up knowing I was deeply loved by my mom. She definitely spoiled me. She still tells me to this day how she had never seen a little girl more conceited than me. There were only three things that affected me as a child that negatively affected my growing up. The first problem was that the very first man I ever fell in love with was my daddy. My daddy was my whole world. I was head over heels in love with my daddy. In my eyes, he was the tallest, most electrifying, handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. Whenever he would come around, my whole day would be brightened, and I would always go running into his arms for him to pick me up as I screamed, “Daddy!”

Unfortunately, my daddy was also the first man to break my heart. I was born under unpleasant circumstances, and I suffered the consequences for something I had no part in. My dad was a married man when I was born. My mom didn’t find out he was married until after my little brother was born.  When I was much older, my mom told me it was the Holy Spirit who had revealed to her that he was married. Once the revelation was given to my mom, she said the Holy Ghost told her to let go and never look back. Once she firmly made her decision and didn’t want to have anything else to do with him anymore, he pretty much didn’t want anything else to do with me or my little brother anymore. He was still coming around in the beginning which is how I grew to love him so much, but he was absent the majority of my life. I used to always wonder why he never wanted to come and pick me and my brother up. There was one time when I was about 10 years old, when he called my mom during a time, he was supposed to come get us, but ended up not showing up. I heard my mom scream at him out of anger. All I remember hearing her yell was, “I hope you get pussy, catch aids, curl up and die!” Then she slammed the phone down. I remember thinking, “Damn!” Her words were so powerful to me that even though I heard her say it while I was only 10 years old; when I became a grown woman, I repeated those exact words verbatim to a guy when I became angry with him. And he was like, “Damn!”

My dad had two other kids from his wife, who I also loved very much, who I hardly got a chance to see. When I was 18 years old and invited my dad to my high school graduation, he told me he had something he wanted to talk to me about and he didn’t come to my graduation. I didn’t talk to him again until I was about 22 years old, and he dropped a bombshell on me. He told me he wanted to have a DNA test done on me because he wasn’t sure if I was his. I cried, because to me it was such a slap in the face. I thought, “How the hell are you going to wait until I’m a grown ass woman to say you want a DNA test! You didn’t do a damn thing for me nor were you around for me while I was growing up! As far as I’m concerned, you spent my whole life acting as if I wasn’t yours! What the fuck do I care about a damn DNA test now!” I told myself, “If the next time I saw him was going to be at his funeral, it was going to be just fine with me.” The truth is I really needed my dad growing up and I wish he would’ve realized that my life was just as important as his and would’ve put forth a real effort to be a part of my life. 

While I was still young, probably about two years old, my mom got married. He was someone she had grown up with. I grew to love him very much once I realized my mom and my real daddy were never going to be together again. This man treated my brother and I as if we were his own children. We did everything as a family, and we grew up in the church ever since I could remember. Unfortunately, he was my second problem, and I had to go through something that entirely too many kids suffer from.

When I was very young, around the pre-k age, my mom at one point had to work nights at a store called Zears. I remember there was a time my mom was at work, and I went to go give my stepdad a kiss goodnight and he put his tongue in my mouth. I went in my room so confused. I remember asking myself over and over again, “What was that? Why did he put his tongue in my mouth?” I think I’d say that the inappropriate behavior wasn’t all the time, and if it was, I don’t really remember. There are only a few events that stand out boldly in my mind. There were a few times growing up, even as I grew older when I would wake up, and he would be on top of me dry humping me, and I would have to keep my eyes closed and pretend I was still asleep. 

The thing was, I really loved this man the way a daughter would love a father. He used to spoil both me and my brother. I wanted to tell my mom I really did, but I felt like I couldn’t.  Since I did love him and since he was real good to both my brother and I, I felt like I was in a real bad position because I didn’t want to be the reason our family was broken up. I didn’t want to be the cause of it. I used to feel helpless and not in control. It’s so stupid because I remember not wanting to say anything about it because I truly didn’t want to hurt my mom, and I wanted to protect her from being hurt when the truth is I should’ve run to her and told her so that she could protect me. But I was just so confused.

The last memory I have about that situation was right before him and my mom got a divorce. I was in the third grade. I remember it like it was yesterday, and I have no doubt God saved me that night. We had spent all day watching rented videos, and my older cousin, who I considered a sister to me, was with us.  After watching movies all day and all night, I fell asleep on the couch with my cousin. While I was sleeping, he came and picked me up and put me over his shoulder. Immediately I woke up but pretended I was still sleeping. I assumed he was putting me in the bed since I fell asleep on the couch. But instead, while he was holding me, he put a mask over my face so I couldn’t see him and took me outside. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew I was taken outside because it was cold outside, and he laid me on the cold pavement on the back porch. I remember wondering what was going on, and I wondered where my mom was. He took my shorts and panties off, and then I felt something that felt like a balloon that wasn’t blown up. It was just moving up and down my vagina.

At the time I didn’t have a clue that it was his limp penis he was rubbing up and down on me because I didn’t even know what that was at the time. All I knew was it felt like a balloon that wasn’t blown up. I remember being very cold and wishing my mom would pull up in her car and catch him. I assumed my mom wasn’t home because she wasn’t home before I fell asleep. After about 20 minutes of him rubbing his penis up and down on me he finally picked me up, opened the back door and put me in the house. I had to pull my own panties and shorts up and walk myself back to the couch, and try my best to go back to sleep. 

At the time, I didn’t understand that his intent was to rape me, and he just couldn’t get his penis hard. And that’s why I truly thank God with all my heart that what he planned on doing; he wasn’t able to do it. I’m already not wrapped tight, so I really can’t imagine what type of fruit cake I’d be if I would’ve been raped at such a young age. Everything he did I kept hidden and buried inside of me. I used to tell myself I was going to take it to my grave. It wasn’t until after I had my own child that I really started wishing I would’ve told my mom. I couldn’t imagine my child going through that and withholding it from me. But when I was younger, I didn’t see it that way. When I was 10 years old, he and my mom divorced, and I was no longer molested.

His actions caused me to grow up in complete fear of men. I was always terrified to be left alone with any man. Even If I had to go to the principal’s office, I would be filled with anxiety. I honestly was fearful of most men except for my real dad, but no one knew or even had a clue that I was so fearful. I developed trust issues with men and boys when I was very young. I truly hate that any kid has to go through that. I used to wish that men didn’t have a dick so they couldn’t use it to do sick things with it.

When I was about 16 years old, I forgave my stepdad through the conviction of the Holy Spirit. But he didn’t know I forgave him because as far as he was concerned, I never knew what he did to me. However, I did confront him not too long after I had my son. My son’s dad and my stepdad were roommates in a three-bedroom house at the time. I went there one night while I was drunk, and my son’s dad, Steven and I got into a big argument over my son. My stepdad took Steven’s side like he always did, and this particular night, I was sick and tired of him sticking up for Steven because Steven was a deadbeat dad to my son. So out of nowhere my drunk ass began literally screaming, “I know what you use to do to me when I was little! I remember all the times you touched me when I was little girl!” The look on his face was priceless. You would’ve thought he had just heard Jesus himself say, “In the very next second I’m sending you to hell!” His whole face changed because I had completely caught him off guard. He was completely ashamed and embarrassed because we were outside, and I was loudly confronting him in front of Steven. He couldn’t and did not say a word. He went inside of the house and closed the door. It was never brought up again. Even though I did forgive him, I will never forget. One thing about having a drinking problem is whenever you’re drunk, you can’t really hold anything in. Whatever I may have been holding in against you would come pouring out like a raging river at any given time. Whenever that happens it isn’t anything nice, I can assure you. Once I begin telling you my drunken truth, please be prepared to get all your feelings hurt.

The third problem I had was that growing up, I could see spirits, and I would sometimes have encounters with them that were very frightening to me. And I very often had nightmares. My very first encounter was when I was in kindergarten. My brother and I were asleep in the room in the same bed and our room door was closed. While I was sleeping, I heard a tremendously loud boom that sounded like it came from outside. It sounded enormously louder than thunder. When I woke up and opened my eyes, I saw what appeared to be a witch inside of my room standing right by the fan that was by the door. But she didn’t look human because her skin complexion was orange, kind of like a cartoon character, but only she was real. As soon as I looked at her, the fan started blowing extremely fast and loud, and I was scared to death! I immediately bawled myself up in the fetal position and closed my eyes extremely tight hoping she would go away. I could still hear the fan blowing super-fast until I finally heard it start blowing at its usual speed again. I kept my eyes closed until I finally fell back asleep. The next morning, I tried to tell my mom what happened, but she didn’t believe me at all. My mom never believed me when I used to try to tell her what I experienced. From the time I started seeing and having encounters with demons, she would tell me it was all in my mind. But it never was.

Growing up, when I would have nightmares, I would always call on Jesus. I’ve known Jesus all of my life. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t believe in Jesus. Even in kindergarten I use to be on the playground by myself singing praises to the Lord. My knowledge of Jesus was always increasing because my mom and stepdad attended a church that had an awesome children’s ministry that taught me about Jesus and the bible stories on my level. As soon as I was old enough to read, my mom brought me a children’s bible storybook that I enjoyed reading on my own. I used to often have nightmares about the end of the world. Every time I dreamt about the end of the world; in my dreams I was always going to hell. I used to be afraid to go to sleep without saying my prayers, so every night, I prayed to God. But sometimes, when I used to pray, I used to ask God not to return yet. I used to say, “Lord, please don’t come back yet. I want to be able to grow up and live my life as a grown up first.” Boy did He have a trick for me for asking Him that because my adult years have been the worst days of my life!

Anyway, like I was saying, I grew up seeing spirits.  I would see them walking by in picture frames. I could see their shadows on my room wall, and it would seem as if it was outside. I grew up terrified of the dark, but I was always a night owl. I used to stay up till the wee hours of the morning and that’s when I would see them. I often saw them, but my encounters with them growing up were few. But either way they scared the hell out of me. The next encounter that I remember was when I was in the sixth grade. It was in the wee hours of the morning, and I got up to go get something to drink. I got in my bed and laid on my back and I didn’t put the covers back over me because I was hot. I only had my eyes closed for two minutes when all of a sudden, the ceiling fan above me started spinning really fast and my eyes started rolling in the back of my head. I could feel a spirit holding me down and my pajama dress was raised up to my chest. In my mind I started calling on Jesus until the spirit left and the fan went back to its normal speed. I immediately got back under the covers even though I was hot, turned on my side and tried my best to go back to sleep. Till this day I still never go to sleep without covers over me no matter how hot I may be.

The next day on the way to school I told my little brother what had happened to me, and my mom became angry with me. She stated angrily, “Don’t tell him that!” She didn’t believe me and was very upset that I would scare my little brother who was only a year and half younger than me. When stuff like that happened to me, I hated having to hold it in. Whenever I saw or encountered a spirit, there was never anyone I could tell. I grew up my whole life feeling like I was always being watched all the time. Between the age of 13 and 14 I went through my first spiritual warfare. At least that’s what someone told me it was called when I briefly shared my experience with them. She said in the  bible it’s called a spiritual warfare. When I was 13, I started seeing a very tall, pitch black, shadowy demon that appeared to be about 9 feet tall, and it seemed as if it was wearing a hat. It’s kind of hard to describe it because it looked more like a walking shadow, not really a person, but had the shadow of a human form. 

Whenever it appeared in my dream, whatever I may have been dreaming about would completely stop, and this demon would come charging at me full force. The intensity of its anger and hatred towards me was unlike anything I had ever felt in my life. I remember feeling the extreme high intensity of how much it hated me as it would approach. All of my dreams with this demon were usually the same but always just as frightening as the last. When it would charge at me everything around me would become still including me because I would become unable to move or run. It would charge at me very angrily but when it would get to me it wouldn’t be able to do anything to me. Its mere presence was overwhelmingly intimidating to me, but no matter how intensely angry it was it was never able to so much as touch my hair. Then I’d wake up. It was very tormenting though. I would see it my dreams, but I would also see it when I wasn’t sleep. Whenever I saw it while awake it moved about slowly, but in my dreams, it was charging at me at full speed. I just continued to pray to God always wondering why I couldn’t be like everybody else; ignorant to the fact that demons really existed. Some people call them ghosts, but they’re not ghosts. I went through that for about a whole year, and then all of my encounters with that demon stopped. And I was extremely happy and grateful, Although, I still absolutely refused to sleep in the dark under any circumstances.

Besides those three things growing up, my childhood was quite pleasant. In spite of the events that I just shared with you, I honestly think my good times outweighed the bad. Only the bad had a lasting mental effect on me. I always felt like I had the best mom that anyone could ask for, despite the fact there were things about me that she didn’t know about me or understand. But my story doesn’t stop there. It’s time to move on to the next phase of my life.

ChapterTwo

HIGH SCHOOL

My life really changed and took a turn once I turned 16 years old. During this time my home girls and I were the shit. We were all sexy, very popular, and completely just didn’t give two fucks what anybody had to say about us. We were usually perceived as being arrogant, conceited mean girls, but that was only because the people around us were too busy judging the book by its cover. We were always the biggest hot topics in the school. Since the other girls hated on us so much and couldn’t keep our names out their mouth, we were given the name “The Hated Clique.” Just about every day there was a new rumor floating around about us. Whenever we heard them, we’d just laugh and say, “Let them hoes hate we don’t give a fuck!” Quite frankly some of the lies they told were pretty amusing. I quickly learned that although rumors can hurt if you allow them to, only the ones that have some truth in them have the ability to cut you to the white meat.

Our clique consisted of a total of four girls, including myself. There was Tiffany. She was the skinniest of the group but had major attitude. She always had this I don’t give a fuck attitude about everything. She cheated her way through most of high school. I didn’t even know how to cheat until her and I became friends. She was the color of caramel and kept her hair done in a lot of new hot styles because her stepfather was a hairdresser. She was an only child, so she was very self-centered and selfish. She usually made a sport of making fun of the way other people looked and dressed. She and I became friends first in our group. Since the beginning of 9th grade, we realized we had every single class together and became friends. However, once our click was complete, she and I were the ones that very often bumped heads most of the time.

Then there was Ashanti. She was your typical pretty, slim, very bright skinned girl with long natural hair. This bitch literally acted like she was Beyonce and all she had to do was flash a smile or bat her eyes and she could get any damn man she wanted. It pissed us off that it was always just that simple for her. Although we all could get any man we wanted too, she just always took flirting to a whole new level. She was a really good friend to have but you absolutely couldn’t trust that bitch around your man. She would flirt just for the sport of it. She was extremely intelligent though. She shared most of me and Tiffany’s classes, but she took a lot of advanced classes as well. When we were in the 9th grade taking pre-algebra, this chick was taking pre-calculus. We used to make fun of her all the time and call her a nerd.

The last girl in our click didn’t become a part of our click until 10th grade. Her name was Nicole. All during 9th grade me, Tiffany and Ashanti all hated her damn guts; but especially me. It seemed like her and I kept competing for the same things, and even though she and I had never verbally spoken words to each other we had a mutual understanding that we despised each other. It’s a long story how she became a part of our clique, but her and I actually established the closet relationship in our group. Our personalities were a perfect match for each other. She was the main one in our group known as the biggest slut in the school from the very beginning. Truth is, she did very much dress like a slut and a whore most of the time, but she was still a virgin. She was really tall and slender and because she was built like a model, she loved flaunting her 9 body all the time. She always walked around like she owned the damn school. For a while she couldn’t keep a man though. Guys would always line up wanting to date her because they’d think they was hooking up with a slut, but then when they would find out she was still a virgin and didn’t want to have sex they would dump her every time. She would be so hurt, and I would feel her pain, but at the same time we used to think that shit was funny as hell.

Then there was me. I walked around with the persona of a ghetto superstar. I was always draped in a lot of expensive gold jewelry. No one in the entire school had more jewelry than me. I always liked to wear my hair big like the stars on TV did, which was long, thick, and down my back. If my hair wasn’t long and thick, then I was rocking a hood fabulous style fresh out of the flea market’s beauty salon. Even though all of my home girls were sexy, I had the tightest body out of all of them. I truly had the body of a woman. I was slim with nice curves, a six pack, and thick banging hips and thighs. When we would all buy the same outfits and dress alike, I would always look the sexiest because of all of my curves. Just to look at me you would automatically assume that I was conceited, but I really wasn’t. Although I’m sure some would beg to differ, I was really humble because I didn’t always have a banging body. I had to work hard for it.

In the 9th grade, I was actually overweight. If me and my girls would’ve gone out back in the 9th grade, I would’ve been the chick stuck watching their purses while they danced. I didn’t even begin to be hated on until I lost all of the weight. Since my home girls were all pretty and wore sexy clothes all the time, being around them truly motivated me to lose weight. I made it up in my mind that I wanted to be the shit too. So, I went on a very strict diet for four months. In four short months, I went from a size 15 to a size 6. I skipped breakfast and lunch every day and would eat whatever I wanted for dinner. What made my diet super successful was that seven days a week I exercised for 3-4 hours a day. The result was an amazing, banging ass body.

However, by me losing so much weight so fast, there were tons of rumors going around that I had an eating disorder. The rumors were so far spread that even teachers would get together and talk about me. One of my teachers ended up pulling me to the side after one of my classes questioning me about it. That was just amazing to me. I couldn’t believe that even teachers were gossiping about little old me. I became the main target in our clique by junior year. Girls hated me even more than they hated my home girls because guys use to just sit around and lust after me always talking about how bad they wanted to fuck me. 

During this time, I didn’t have a boyfriend. My whole life was centered around my girls. We used to have loads of fun together and I loved them to death.  However, my mom was a major problem for me. She was entirely too damn strict and was completely against me growing up. She refused to allow me to do anything that normal teenagers did. She never allowed me to hang out with my friends outside of school. I never was allowed to attend any concerts, any high school games, or hang out at the mall or anything. My mama wouldn’t even allow me to talk on the phone, which was so embarrassing. I wasn’t allowed to give my phone number to anyone, male or female. I used to always have to give consistent excuses anytime someone asked me for my number. She always assumed that if I was able to talk on the phone all we’d talk about was sex. Which hello, we could talk about sex all day in person at school if we wanted to. I resented my mom a lot for keeping me so trapped and caged. I thought it was completely unfair because her mother never stopped her from hanging out with her friends.

The thing about my mom was she would buy me just about anything I wanted. That was the reason I was always draped in expensive jewelry. She kept my hair done and I had a very large wardrobe. I was able to go shopping on the regular. Surprisingly, for the most part, she allowed me to have the freedom to wear the sexy clothes I wanted to wear as long as it was tasteful. My home girls and I literally dressed like we were going to a club every single day at school. You couldn’t catch us rocking jeans and tennis shoes. We were infamous for our high heels. Our favorite heels to wear were the ones that had tie-up strings that tied up all the way up to our knees. Everyone called them stripper shoes and we all had a pair. Our clothes were always sexy and skintight fitting to compliment and flaunt how hot we were.

But my thing with my mom was, what was the fucking point of having everything I wanted, but never being allowed to go anywhere or do anything? It was like getting all dolled up for the prom, but on prom night, just sitting home alone all night. She thought that giving me material things would replace my natural urge of growing up and wanting some freedom. The more she tried to keep me caged the harder I fought to break free. My mom was so focused on trying to keep me away from boys that she just didn’t have a clue that she had hand delivered me to them with a pretty red ribbon around me. It was ironic how just about everything she accused me of doing I was really innocent of, but the dirt I did do she was clueless about. The honest to God truth was if she would’ve allowed me to hang out with my friends then boys wouldn’t have really been a factor. I probably would’ve flirted or, at the most, had a boyfriend I fooled around with sometimes, but that would’ve been a whole lot better than the things I actually found myself doing trying to get back at my mom.

My sex life officially began when I was sixteen years old. My mom was traveling back and forth to Georgia because she wanted us to live there. In the meantime, my brother and I stayed with my mom’s cousin. I loved it because it gave me a little bit of freedom. I was able to talk to my home girls on the phone, and I used to go outside sometimes. My older cousin lived in a pretty rough neighborhood called Liberty City, but freedom was far from that city. 

One day, I was walking to the store when this guy approached me. He looked like he was maybe my age or a little older. He looked like a typical street dude. He wore baggy clothes, pants hanging down his ass, twists in his hair, mouth full of gold, and he was kind of bright-skinned. He was cute though. His personality immediately grabbed my attention. He was filled with so much confidence in himself. His conversation immediately made me laugh because he hit me up with the humor first quarter. He walked me back to my cousin’s house. I was never able to hang out with a boy outside of school before, so I was feeling really good. He kept me laughing throughout our whole walk. He kept hugging all over me and feeling on my booty like he knew me.  When we got in front of my cousin’s house, I gave him the phone number to my cousin’s house. He called me that night, and we talked until I went to sleep.

The next day I went through my day at school as normal. Even though I didn’t have a boyfriend I did have a guy friend at school. His name was Matt. He was a senior, and I was a junior. He was very dark-toned and tall, and although he wasn’t ugly, he wasn’t cute either. I was mainly attracted to his personality and all of his flirtatious antics he always displayed towards me. My home girls and I were a part of a step group, and we use to have practice after school. Since Matt and I didn’t have any classes together, I mostly saw him after school, and sometimes we would chill together. I didn’t chill with him every day though because I use to want to spend a lot of my time with my friends. But the times we did chill, we used to go to a secluded spot in the school and make out. We had been flirting with each other for a year now, but never had sex. I wasn’t interested in sex at all because I didn’t want to be one of those girls who got pregnant in high school. I knew it would be one of the biggest disappointments for my mama, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted her to be proud of me, which is why I always worked hard to make good grades. I maintained a B average throughout all of my classes.

Anyway, Matt was a fucking expert at foreplay. He had the softest lips ever and was an excellent kisser. I used to allow him to put his hands under my shirt and bra, and he would softly caress my breast while he kissed all over my neck. He would often lift my shirt up and nibble on my nipples for what seemed like forever. He used to do it for at least 30 minutes straight. Everywhere his lips touched, it seemed as if his lips were created just to be on my body. I used to just close my eyes and get in a zone. Every time I left him, my panties would be soaking wet, but I never knew why. He never tried to pressure me into having sex. The first time when he tried to unbutton my pants, I told him I didn’t want to do that, and he never tried again. He seemed content with just being able to kiss and touch all over me. He was the only guy in the school that I was interested in and who had the privilege of spending any time with me.  

So, after chilling with Matt, I went to my cousin’s house. I wasn’t even there long before that guy from the store called me. Honestly, I don’t even remember his name. He said he wanted to come by to see me real quick. I met him by the store again. We talked for a little while as he mentioned to me several times that the next day was going to be his birthday. He asked me if I would come chill and watch a movie with him for his birthday. The idea of watching a movie with him excited me. I told him I’d try to see what I could do.

When I got back to my cousin’s house, my mind was racing. How the hell was I going to pull that off? I really wanted to go, but just didn’t see how it was going to be possible. He called me that night and we talked until I went to sleep again. The next day at school all I could think about was how was I going to be able to get away to watch the movie with this dude. By the time school was over I had devised a plan that I was sure would work. When I got to my cousin’s house, I gathered up all of my little cousins and told them we were going down the street to the park.

The plan was to seem like we were all going to the park. I’d leave with the guy to watch the movie and then come back to pick my little cousins up, and we’d all go back to my cousin’s house together. I had told the oldest cousin out of them Tameka what I was going to do, and it was her job to watch her little brothers and sisters. Once the guy called my plan went into action. I had worn a long suede brown skirt that had a very large split on the side, a sleeveless leopard printed top and a pair of platform high heels. It was what I had worn to school that day.

I walked my cousins to the park and the guy met me at the park. We left and started walking to his house. It was absolutely nothing like what I had expected at all. He took me to a really shitty, run-down looking apartment building. If it wasn’t for the people that were sitting around outside, I would’ve thought the place was abandoned. It looked like it could’ve been a damn crack house. Immediately my heart began to race as I started realizing how I really didn’t know this dude and how no one knew where I was.

We went inside a raggedy apartment and went inside the room. All the room had in it was one small TV lying on the floor and some clothes lying around. This turned out to be a huge disappointment just by looking at the place. I expected him to live in a decent house where we would sit on the couch in the living room area and watch the movie. He motioned for me to sit down on the floor. I didn’t want to, but I did anyway. He put a movie in.

His movie of choice was a damn porno! As soon as I saw what it was, I immediately told him I didn’t want to watch that and to put in another movie. I had never watched a porno in my life and didn’t want to because I wasn’t interested in sex. He just started laughing. I said, “No, I’m for real I don’t want to watch that. That’s disgusting!” I felt my spirit feeling disturbed.  He turned it off. But after he turned it off, he pushed my shoulders down to the floor forcing me to lie down. He started kissing on my neck. I was so damn stupid that I didn’t even panic because I was used to having Matt kiss on me and I enjoyed the feeling. Then he started trying to take my bra off, but I wouldn’t let him. But he lifted my bra up anyway and started sucking on my breasts. Then he started trying to get me to open my legs.

Now I was extremely alarmed because he was trying to force my legs open because I was resisting him. Now all I could think about was how I wish I would’ve never come and wanted to get back to my cousin’s house immediately. The more I tried to get up the more force he used. As I felt him trying to pull my panties to the side, I started loudly telling him to stop and trying to squirm around to get him off of me so I could leave. As I kept telling him to stop, I realized someone else was in the apartment with us because whoever was outside of that room turned the radio up real loud to drown out my screams. They turned it up so loud I could barely hear my own voice anymore.

This dude was very strong as he forcibly held my hands down and forced himself inside of me. Once it was in, there was absolutely nothing I felt but pure excruciating pain! It felt like something inside of me was being ripped apart and about to break. I truly believed that one of my organs or something was on the verge of erupting inside of me. I honestly can’t even begin to explain the pain I felt. This dude didn’t give a fuck about me and didn’t take it easy on me at all. The tears started rolling down my face as I squirmed with pain with every push he made. I still tried pushing him off of me, but it was useless. He had my hands pinned down so hard I couldn’t move my hands at all. It only took a few minutes for me to realize he didn’t even put on a condom. As the tears continued to stream down my face, I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see his body rocking back and forth on top of me. I felt severe physical pain and also mental pain. Throughout all the pain that was taking place between my legs all I could think about was my mom. I thought if my mama would’ve saw me at that moment and saw me having sex, she would be so disappointed in me. The thought of that caused my tears to fall faster and harder. Not to mention since he wasn’t using a condom, I was terrified I was going to get pregnant by this rapist.

It took about 20 minutes for him to be finished. When it was over, I hated him. I was in so much fucking pain as I tried to get up from the floor. But instead of allowing me to get up he pushed me back down, and he went back in for a second round. The second time, I didn’t even put up a fight. I figured the damage was already done. When he was done again, I wiped the tears from my eyes. I was worried he wasn’t going to let me go home since he had just raped me. I didn’t know what else he was capable of. I looked at him full of both fear and hatred, but he didn’t look at me at all. He acted as if nothing had just happened. He said, “Come on, let me walk you home.” I didn’t say anything. I was just glad to be leaving. When we walked outside it was already getting dark outside. I actually needed him to walk me home because I was really scared since it was getting dark, and it was a rough neighborhood. I didn’t want to get raped again on my way home. I walked fast with my arms crossed over my chest, staring at the ground. The bastard had the audacity to try to hold a fucking conversation with me on the way back as if ain’t shit just happen! I couldn’t believe it! As he walked me home, I didn’t say anything at all.

When I got to the park, my heart dropped to the floor, and I realized my troubles weren’t over. My little cousins weren’t at the park. I told the guy he could leave and he turned around and started walking away, but I heard him say, “I’ll call you later.” This boy was a fucking trip! I really couldn’t believe him. Now, I didn’t know what to think because I knew it was apparent that I had been missing and not at the park. I had to try to quickly think of a lie. I wasn’t prepared and wasn’t going to tell my cousin that I had just been raped. When I got to my cousin’s house my little cousins were there and I knew I was in a lot of trouble. My mom’s cousin was fuming as she said, “Oh, you think you slick, huh?” I tried to tell her that I had left the park to go down the street to go to KFC to get something to eat because I was hungry. 

I wasn’t sure if she had brought it or not, but she wasn’t the one I was really worried about. She had already called my mom in Georgia. When I got on the phone with my mama, she was yelling and fusing, telling me how she was going to kick my ass when she came into town. I was in trouble, but I stuck with the KFC story. I went in the room and cried and cried. I laid in bed all bawled up because I was still feeling really sore between my legs. After a while I called my girl Ashanti to tell her everything that had happened but at first, I didn’t want to tell her I was raped because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to reveal that to anybody so, I just simply told her I had sex and how bad it had hurt. She was surprised. She was like, “Girl for real?” I had never even told any of my friends that I had even met this guy, so the whole story was a complete surprise to her. She asked, “It didn’t feel good at all?” Ashanti was already sexually active and had been having sex for about a year now. She used to tell us all of her dirty stories, which I always enjoyed hearing.

I replied in a very soft tone, “All I felt was agonizing pain.”

She said, “Sex is not supposed to feel like that. You may feel a little pain in the beginning, but that’s it. It must have been because you were really dry.” I hadn’t thought of that. I didn’t know anything about sex, so I didn’t know anything about being wet or dry. I ended up telling her the full story and letting her know that I was raped. I told her how it just felt like everything was being ripped apart inside of me.

She was like, “Damn dawg! Are you going to tell your mama?” I said, “No, I can’t tell her. I’m not going to tell nobody.” She said, “I think you should tell somebody.”

I said, “Naw, I’m straight.” I was used to keeping really painful stuff to myself.

The next day I felt like shit. I couldn’t enjoy myself in school at all. I was withdrawn from everything and everyone around me. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. I couldn’t stop worrying I was going to be pregnant from the guy who raped me. The day seemed to drag by. Throughout the day I found myself trying to hold back tears. The whole experience was just eating away at me. To top it all off, I was in trouble with my mom. She was on her way back from Georgia as we spoke. I just didn’t think things could possibly get any worse. When I got to my cousin’s house, I just stayed in the room all day and night just thinking and replaying everything in my head over and over again because I just couldn’t get over it. I wanted to but couldn’t.

That night, I decided to call my stepdad and tell him everything that had happened. I told him the truth about everything. I don’t know why I did that. It was just eating away at me so much that I guess I just needed an adult to tell me that I was comfortable talking to. By the end of the conversation, he had insisted that I tell my mom what had happened. I really didn’t want to, but he convinced me that I had to. He actually had me believing that I would feel better if I told her.

Telling my mom was the biggest mistake I had ever made in my entire life! If I’ve never regretted anything else in my life; I lived to regret telling her that I was raped. When she came back in town, she was pissed at me and wasn’t speaking to me. She took my brother and me home. She wasn’t going back to Georgia again because she didn’t trust to leave me again. If I would’ve just simply kept my mouth shut, then that would’ve been the end of it. I would’ve just had to endure her being mad at me for a little while and her not speaking to me or buying me anything for a while.

Apart of me felt like I had kept the secret of being molested as a child from her and had endured all the pain myself, and this time, I wanted her to know that I had been hurt so she could help me through it; so, I wouldn’t have to endure all the pain and spend all my life trying to bury it again. Later that night, after getting back home, I told her I needed to talk to her about something important. We sat down at the table. I didn’t go into any details. I just told her that while I was at my cousin’s house the day I was missing for a while and said I had gone to KFC, that I actually had been raped.

Immediately, she burst into tears and started crying very loudly. She got up from the table and ran outside, crying very loudly. I just sat there, not knowing what to think. I was shocked. This was only the second time I had seen my mama cry in my life, and she had never cried that hard before. Her husband was in the room, heard her crying, and came out to see what had happened. He asked me, “What did you say to your mother?” I didn’t say anything. I just sat there with a blank stare on my face.

He asked me a few more times raising his voice each time until finally I said, “I told her that I had been raped.” He ran outside after her. A few minutes later, he came back inside to get a towel and then went back outside. After a while, she came back into the house with the towel over her face, still sobbing, and they both went into the room and didn’t say anything to me.

I was hurting. It broke my heart to witness my mom cry. But at the same time, I was also thinking about her reaction. Shouldn’t they have been trying to comfort me since I was the one who had gone through the traumatic experience? 

The next day before school, her husband told me that after school, we were going to file a police report and wanted to take me back to the neighborhood to see if I saw the boy. He himself was a police officer. I did what he told me to do. My mom still wasn’t talking to me. 

They were able to find the boy. Her husband told me that the boy would be facing up to six years in jail. It may sound really crazy to you, but even though he had hurt me, I felt compassion for him because I didn’t want him to go to jail for that long. He was still a young kid. I had heard a lot of jail stories and saw a lot of jail movies that scared me enough to cause me to always pray faithfully that my brother never had to go to jail. I felt that six years was a very long time. He didn’t punch me, or stab me, or kill me, or anything like that. He did rape me, but it could’ve been worst. I was still alive, and the only thing that was really bruised was my mind. Out of the compassion I felt for him, I told them I didn’t want to press charges on him anymore. 

At first, I did want to press charges, but once they said six years, I no longer wanted to pursue it. I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me and move on. I didn’t know that by me saying I didn’t want to press charges anymore was going to make me guilty in my mom’s eyes. I went back home. My mom still wasn’t talking to me. My mom and her husband went to go see the boy again the next day. I didn’t know that until I came home from school.