We grew up in a small house, on Burns street, which was on the eastside of Detroit, it was near the Gratiot and Van Dyke area. We literally lived right next door to our school, but the teachers wondered everyday, since we lived so close to the school, why were we late everyday, and why did we have more than 50 abcenses every semester. That was because my mother was so lazy and lifeless, that she didn't even bother to wake us up and get us ready for school. It was always, me, Kanitha, and my dad. My mom wasn't big on education. She never questioned our grades, never attended any parent-teacher conferences, she didn't care whether we went to school or not, she wouldn't even ask our teachers about our performances, NOTHING!
Everyone at our school was on a first name basis with my dad. He was at every PTA, teacher conference, he helped coached the boy's basketball team, and if we got into trouble, it was my dad that the school called. Depending on what we got in trouble for at school, my dad would take us home and beat the shit out of us.
At our house, we had a huge enclosed porch, that was surrounded by windows, and we used to love sitting on that porch when it rained. My siblings and I thought we were pretty lucky to still be able to go outside without getting wet. We would laugh at all the other people who were caught in the rain, or make fun of the kids who were stuck in the house because it was thunder storming. That was the only advantage we ever had over the other kids in the neighborhood.
Our house was so small, but I instantly fell in love with it. It had two small bedrooms, the tiniest bathroom, a huge living room and dining room you could sit a ten person dinette set, with ten chairs, which we had. The kitchen was very spacious. It had a bright orange island against the wall to your far right, and underneath the island were shelves for a bar, but my parents used it to store extra food. Further to your right, around the island, were two doors. One lead upstairs to a huge walk through attic, with a bedroom all the way in the back, which had its own seperate door. The room in the attic was so huge, you could fit about five full beds in there, with room left for dressers. What I hated most about the attic, were the walls, because you could see outside through the boards. We later found out it became a coup for pigeons. We would have so many pigeons in the coup at one time, that we could barely sleep because they were so loud.
The other door in the kitchen led downstairs to the basement. After you got past the first flight of stairs, to your left was a huge wooden door, that lead outside to the backyard. The backyard was pretty big as well, along with a huge scary looking garage that we never went in. It was fenced in, and in the back of the yard, if you went outside of the gate, it lead you into an alley.
The alley became one of my safe havens for many years. Any time one of my demons were looking for me, I would run outside in the backyard, through the gate, and right into the alley. There were times I just sat on the ground right up against a dirty, smelly, dumpster, with my knees to my chest. So many times I tried to run away from home as a child, but I never got past that alley. It was very long. We lived in the second house on the corner, and the alley stretched far past about ten other houses. At the other end of the alley, was the 94 E. Service Drive.
Eventually, the monsters I was running and hiding from, caught wind of my little hideaway, so if they couldn't find me in the house, they came to the alley looking for me. You will find out who my demons were, when you get to the next chapter. The position of the dumpster, made it easy to spot me once you came out of our backyard. Finally, I moved my hiding spot down a few dumpsters, where I couldn't be seen. I dreamed so many times that I would get the courage to make it to the other end of the alley, one day. But until then, I was trapped in a house, in a life, where I was invisible and didn't matter. It didn't matter if I was being abused, or tormented at school, nobody gave a fuck.
You may think because I was raised in a two parent household, that I grew up alright. NOT! I would say that my family was very dysfunctional, even though they would beg to differ. I know you may be thinking, well her life doesn't seem so bad, if she had a dad that took care of his family, even though her mom wasn't as active. It seems that way now...but continue reading!
YOU ARE READING
HE LOVED ME IN THE DARK
Non-Fiction*EVERY WORD AND INCIDENT IN THIS BOOK IS TRUE TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE* THIS IS MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY! SOME NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT CONFIDENTIALITY! *INTRODUCTION* I've done everything from selling drugs, prostitution, stripping, fighting...
