In "Family Ties," the Moretti family is everything, or so they thought. But beneath the surface of loyalty lies a web of betrayal and lies. In the heart of this tangled mess, the Morettis struggle to find their footing, torn apart by secrets and dec...
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"Growing up my foster parents never hid that I was adopted; they actually reminded me every second of the day about it. They wanted me to know that their home wasn't mine and that I was just a guest, and I should be grateful they let me in. As I got older, it only got worse. I became more rebellious. I knew they hated me because who would just beat an innocent child for being hungry or wanting to be loved?" I said, feeling a lump form in my throat.
Shanice's eyes softened with empathy as she listened intently.
"I met Devon when I was eighteen. I had just graduated high school, and I ran away from home. I would lie and steal for food every night until one day, I went into a gas station, and his boys were robbing the place. They grabbed me and took me to him. I guess they thought I would make a good penny for him. But like every young, powerful corner boy, he was very territorial. He didn't see me as anything more than his and his only. Other guys weren't even allowed to speak to me. At first, I thought it was cute. Someone loved me enough to see me only as theirs, but when I got older and he would kill guys for even calling me beautiful, I knew it was getting out of hand, and I became scared."
I paused, wiping away the tears rolling down my cheeks. Shanice reached out and gently squeezed my hand, her face full of concern.
"We argued a lot like every couple, but he was always very aggressive. He would grab me and hit me. I was used to being abused, so I thought this was how everyone was treated. It became normal. As time went on, things got worse and worse. Devon had his supplier pull from a deal last minute, and he was running low on product. Around this time, he was using his product too, and he ran out. He would get so angry over the littlest things, I became his punching bag " I said, my voice breaking as the memories flooded back.
"Lelani, you don't have to keep going," Shanice said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.
"No, I do, because holding this shit in is fucking with me mentally. He always brings the worst out of me, and it's like he likes it. He liked when I fought back because he saw it as a challenge. Then I tried to run. I knew he would kill me, so I tried to kill him first, and now we're here," I said, my voice trembling.
"I thought I grew up with a fucked up childhood," she said, and I laughed bitterly.
"Yeah, my foster mom beat me because she was jealous, and my foster father did it for sport," I said.
"My mother wasn't too bad. She had her flaws, but what mother doesn't? Now, my father, on the other hand, he was a piece of shit. He would always choose drugs over his family. Every time I thought he changed, he always proved me wrong. He was always in and out of our lives. He would literally visit me every four years on my birthday. The last time I saw him, I was twelve, and he nearly got me killed," Shanice said.
"My foster father had this obsession with the date May 2nd. He would literally start bugging out on me and my foster mom. We knew to stay clear from him on that day. Like, why is May 2nd so fucking special?" I said.
