I know what you’re thinking, she’s already gone through enough crap, what the hell is going to happen to her now. Wait till you see what comes next.

Daddy’s New Unit

I hadn’t been living with my father for well over a year and now that I was going home with my daddy I honestly thought that things were going to be just the way it used to be. But, little did I know, that even though I was permanently back with my daddy, it was no longer just him and I.

On a normal occurrence when daddy and I traveled together, he would usually entertain me with silly chatter and engaging conversation. But, this time was different and I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

On this journey he said nothing and seemed to be annoyed or disturbed for one reason or another. I’ve never really been an outspoken child and was always told not to ask or get into “big people business,” so I just didn’t pry.

It took about three vehicles to reach our destination. We arrived at the compound of the apartment building my daddy lived in, then he said to me quite short, ” we’re here.” Holding my hand, daddy led me up a flight of stairs, which caused us to come to a door that he had had the keys too.

The door swung open and the room I entered was spacious, fully tiled, with beautiful furniture and all the latest appliances. Daddy entered and uttered, “honey?” A female voice came streaming out of the kitchen and I just went cold.

When the woman stepped out from behind the open refrigerator door, my stomach did somersault. I felt sick. I recognized her from before and couldn’t even say anything. I had the earge to just scream out, “I don’t like her and I don’t want her to be my mummy!!!”

My father asked me, if I remembered the woman ( Joy ) and without a word I just shook my head. He told me, then and there that she was now his wife and I had a little brother, Jerrod Garcia, whom I loved very much and still love dearly.

Of course, there was no problem with my brother. But, when I came to think of it, I was saddened by the fact that my father, now had a complete family unit, which I was not really a part of and probably wouldn’t have been if everyone he dropped me off by, didn’t tire of him always pawning me off by them.

This feeling left my mind so quickly, that it was as if, I’d never thought or felt it. I had a baby brother to love, to hug, to play with and I was now a big sister. I was in my Glee, playing peek-a-boo with the little thing, that just screamed with excitement every time my small hands opened up to reveal all the silly faces that came after.

I strolled over to the kitchen to Joy and asked, “aunty Joy may I please have some water?” Before she could speak, daddy immediately caught on to this and said, “I want you to call her mummy, because she’s your mother now.” I thought “what!?” Even she exclaimed, “that’s not necessary” with a forced smile on her face, which made her look like she was constipated.

She was just as uncomfortable with the idea as I was. But, daddy insisted on it, which was quite disturbing. What happened next was the freakiest thing I have ever seen in my natural life, even till today.

While I played with Jerrod, Joy was in the kitchen preparing supper, I guess. She had just lit the stove, placed a pot with water on the fire, threw something in and turned to walk away. Just as I heard the clicking of the pilot and hard materials hit the bottom of the pot, I lifted my head to look in her direction and a ball of flame literally reached out from under the pot as though it was attracted to the short denim pants that covered her next to nothing of a butt.

Since witnessing something like this, from that time till now I am still baffled by the sight.” I would really appreciate it if someone, anyone can enlighten me as to why and how something like this could have taken place.”

A Bad Secret

The weekend had passed smoothly and the next day, Joy left the house to go to work. “Mummy” took Jerrod with her. Daddy was to take up the night shift, so he was supposed to be resting. Instead, we were engaged in a heated tickle match, when a knock was heard on the door.

This man was no longer my daddy, it seemed. The strange behavior that follows will confuse any innocent child. The tickle match came to an instant halt, as he made his way to the door where he invited a very beautiful, very young lady into the apartment.

He took me by the hand and briskly led me to the bedroom, picked me up and placed me in my brother’s crib on my belly, turned my head in the opposite direction of the bed and pulled the mosquito net over the crib while the young lady stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

Daddy then beckoned her to the foot of the bed. They both left their tops on, taking off the rest. The girl climbed up on to the bed and daddy went atop her and began his all time favorite hobby.

I guess, she must’ve felt my eyes on them. Because, a few minutes into her legs being spread wide open and his waist going in non-stop circles, she stopped him to indicate to him that I was seeing. Rising off her, not even thinking to cover him self. With his penis as stiff as a board and the girl not having any shame or decency either.

The disgusting adulterer was at the crib’s side and after lifting the net, he turned my head away from them again, but, this time he said to me, ” don’t tell mummy okay.” I just replied, ” okay daddy” even though I really wanted to tell him, ( she’s not my mummy ) as he returned to his ‘play date.’

I never turned my head after that, in fear of upsetting him the next time. Could not’t even tell you how long the disgusting act went on for, because I fell asleep soon after, seeing that it was my nap time and all.

Of course, I didn’t tell Joy. I didn’t know who knew, but, I knew Joy didn’t like me, much less to love me. Trust me when I say, if a child tells you that they don’t like an individual, an adult, you really should believe him/her.

The child may not always know why, they don’t like that person but there’s always a valid reason. If a person is well-known by the child, it could mean that the child, is already being molested or ill-treated. You should also remember, that children can see and feel things that we no longer can.

Please, never make the mistake to ignore any child, because you automatically through away their trust in you and they’ll never want to tell you anything again. Especially when something bad happens to them.

Joy Step Mom

Joy had pale skin. Her face and neck were covered with moles, which the above featured image doesn’t begin to justify. When ever she prepared herself for work, she would shave her eyebrows off and draw them back on with eyeliner.

Her choice of makeup was face powder, that almost looked like baby powder. Her lipstick color would always be a bright orange or pink. She had almost blonde hair that was pin straight, which she’d always ware in a French role style for work.

I never knew her job description, but I assumed she was a teacher or secretary. Her uniform was a three-piece skirt suit and she had a ” I can’t mash ant attitude. ” Or ” I’m better than you, ” kinda personality.

I have reason to believe that Joy must have been prejudice, for everyone else besides my father, maybe because she got good sex from him. When daddy was present Joy would be very nice to me, give me anything I asked for, etc.

But, as soon as daddy had left the building, that’s where the chaos commenced. While most times I would be left in the care of a sitter as they both worked. Fewer than most, I had to endure Joy. Which is ironic, because I got no joy from being in her care.

I was never allowed to play with Jerrod, probably cause she feared, that my darker complexion would rub off on her perfect child, making him inferior. Seeing that she and her milky prince was just too good to be touched by the likes of me. ” At least that’s what she thought. “.

Every time I asked her for something, anything, I got harshly tuned down. When ever we would all go out as a family unit, she never wanted to hold my hand. That would always make me feel like she didn’t love me.

Joy Is Back Home

The apartment was just a one bedroom, so I assumed the landlord evicted us so we had to move to Joy’s previous home before her marriage to my father.

She was the baby of two children made by her mom. Her there father had already passed away and her mother was very old. Albert, Joy’s brother was very tall and he had a big black beard.

He wasn’t much of a talker but any time I went into his room to watch television with him, he would ask me about school, listen to me a bit and then the silence was on again. Albert was really nice to me and never made me feel unsafe or unwanted. He was very patient and caring just like my daddy. Although, I do think he may have been a fourty year old virgin.

Her mother wasn’t really mean, she was just stern. She taught me to pick lentil peas and white rice. She’d always call me to the dinning table for all my meals and she also taught me proper table etiquette.

But, Joy used this time and place to her advantage. Since I would tell daddy every time she hit me, which was always either my head or back. She was now forbidden from hitting me altogether.

Instead, I was punished for everything. My punishment would be things like, kneeling in a corner, facing the wall with my hands over my head. Could not’t even think about taking them down because I was tired.

Oh no, I would be yeld at to put them back up and sometimes I would even be sent to bed without supper. After every session, she would remind me that if I told daddy, there would be worse to come and couldn’t think of anything worse than that.

When she came to me, for her to do my revisions of the alphabet, counting and that little red book, which I already knew really well, I would just go blank in her presence. She would pinch me if I got anything wrong and if I glared at her or pouted I’d be sent to the corner.

There was this time that I was looking through their wedding album. I saw her, him, her nieces or cousins, I don’t really remember who they were, her mother, brother but no me. Upon realizing this I asked why I wasn’t there and started to cry. Daddy harshly told me to shut my mouth and stop the crocodile tears so I did.

However, I did have some good times when I was watching Party Time, Indian Movies on a Sunday, Mastanabahar or Twelve And Under, ( which are local TV shows back in the day on TTT). Occasionally, I would also enjoy nature programs and Sesame Street when they came over the airways.

I remembered learning about ants, that would suck the sap from trees, while their butt area would be fine with the sugary sweetness and they’d haul it back to the queen to feed it to her. Being an influential four-year old I wanted to test their theory when they said it tasted sweet.

After the program was done I left the living room, went to the open garage, where there was always a line of ants on the ground and picked one up to taste it. The first and second one I nabbed were squished between my tiny fingers.

On the third try, I held the ant ever so gently and placed it into my mouth. To my surprise it was just as they had said, sweet. Not too long after tasting my new sugary snack, I was busted and called back indoors.

I can also recall all the adults’ eyes being glued to the TV for the 1990 attempted coup by the Jammat Al Muslimin, led by the late Adbu Backar.

I spent my fifth birthday with them as well as I was about to go out to ‘big school’ my gift was a larger size bag pack to the one I had for preschool, with a matching lunch box. I was so excited, because the set was my favorite color, blue and I was finally going to school.

Off To School

In the days of old in this country, we didn’t have the big yellow school buses as depicted in the image above.

Our parents and/or guardian would hop into a car ( taxi ) or maxi taxi, drop us off at school and follow the same routine to come get us after school. Sometimes daddy would take me to school which was a lot of fun.

Daddy taught me to always have good manners and to be polite, so every person we passed on the street, I had to say good morning or good evening to them. People would always look at me and smile while complimenting him on how sweet and polite I was.

This gave my father great pride and I always blushed. On the contrary to when I was escorted by “mummy” who had no mannerism and at most times kept her face beastly, as she had to hold the little disease ( called me ).

Because, if she didn’t and anything bad were to happen to me, killing her would’ve been an under statement to what daddy would have done to her. She was always jealous of the love daddy had for me and the level of affection I was shown.

Very rare I would get my daddy to carry me to school, so most times I was stuck with the grouch. Where I, walked too slowly she’d yank my arm. She never held my bag as daddy did. Whenever I said good morning to anyone or good evening she would make this face of disgust or simply tell me to shut up.

When I first arrived at school I was placed in first grade or first year at the co-ed Arima R.C. Government Primary School. The girls school was being built just next door and all the girls were to be moved there upon completion. Little did we know that something remarkable was about to take place in my life.

After the transfer of all girls to the new Arima Girls R.C. Government Primary School, my first year teacher tested my reading abilities as they do for all to properly place us. When she realized that my reading and pronunciation was that of a fourth grader or standard two student, she immediately sent for the vice principal. Now it was not ideal for five-year old to be at that level so I was placed in a lower level standard one or third grade.

The vice principal Mrs. Garcia at the time used to keep me close to her during break and lunchtime and one day she turned to me and said, ” Crystal you are the smartest child at this school.”

I paid mighty close attention to the vehicles we boarded to get to our respective destination and where they dropped us off. Sometimes when I traveled with daddy I may have needed to pee, but the ride was long, ” for me at least ” that I would have had to learn to hold it.

One day, school was out and that day was Joy’s day to pick me up. I was always equipped with my little watch, which I knew to red well. Looking down at my watch and looking around at all my classmates and friends leaving with their parents. I thought she wasn’t coming for me.

With my heart racing like crazy that I may never see my daddy again, so I left the school’s compound, with my bag pack on my back and my lunch box in hand, I began to walk on the pavement in the direction of the maxi hub. I approached one of the well-known and often used maxi by daddy.

I was just five so when it came time to depart the maxi I was just walking out the door, when I was stopped by the driver. He asked for his three dollars which I didn’t have, so he scolded me by saying, ” you should let us ( drivers ) know have you no money before you enter the maxi, okay smally?”

Daddy always said, ” don’t talk to strangers” so I shook my head and exited. Upon reaching the taxi hub which was not very far from where the maxi dropped me. I waited for a little while seeing that there were no taxis going in my direction.

It was getting dark and I was so afraid of getting a beating for arriving late that when I saw the first known driver, I told him I had no money and he said sit down. It didn’t take very long for the rest of passengers to occupy the other seats in the car and we were off.

I jumped out the car, a bit after five pm and as I entered the house Joy’s mother was inspecting me to be sure I wasn’t violated by any stranger and told me how much trouble I was going to be in. Joy had apparently called daddy and home from a pay phone to inform everyone. Soon after Joy bolted through the door, also informing me of the trouble I was in.

As, soon as I was in the house Albert picked up the phone and called daddy at his work place. Daddy gave them instructions not to punish me, give me something to eat, don’t allow me to bathe and dress me in my night gown and to let me await his arrival.

No matter what time he came in I wasn’t to go to sleep until he got home. My palms would always sweat profusely every time did something to receive a beating, the scariest beating was always from daddy.

I don’t know the exact time of night but was a bit after the one-hour seven o’clock news, that my father stepped over the threshold. As, it came to getting a beating there was no one I feared more than when my daddy was mad at me.

By now, I was scared out my mind, and thing is for sure, it was really big deal, so I thought this would be the worst beating of my life. But what happened next will shock you just as much as it shocked all that was there in that room that night, including me.

Very gently he beckoned me to the couch that was my sleeping area, as they all stood there looking on, he removed my panties, lay me down on my back, parted my legs and inspected my Virgina. After laying there for about a minute or two he placed my underwear back on me, he drew close to me then, hugged and squeezed me so tight I thought my eyes would pop out my head.

To Be Continued

The situations I have endured and persons I’ve encountered, have all, in one way or next, fashioned me into the woman I am today. Consider this, I have been and am now a step mother. My ex-step children and their cousins are now young men and women.

To what I have knowledge of, my ex-step daughter is already a mother of two beautiful boys and she and I are still in contact. They all have full respect for me, her, her brother, their cousins, their father and even his wife of many years, has full respect for me.

My adopted daughter Jada on the other hand, is extremely attached to me, she behaves as if I pushed her out myself. She screams and cries any time I go out without her even though she with her father or great grandma.

Yes, I am extremely stern with her, because she is very strong-minded and immensely defiant, she is sometimes dealt corporal punishment if called for, but I have learned to warn and threaten before I hit, a habit I took up from daddy. To also think of it, how hard can my hand hit when I myself get pain by beating her?

We both feel pain and I don’t like pain, although, most times I get the weirdest feeling that Jada loves pain. I don’t think I could have loved her anymore, if she was from my own womb. Trauma doesn’t always have to turn a person into a monster.

It most certainly, shatters one to their very core. Love is eternal and as long as a person is born with Love in their heart placed there by God while they were in formation. It’s a flame that never goes out. Remember children see things we can’t. And I know you’re a person who was born with Love inside of you.

It doesn’t matter what you are going through, what your encounter has been or the ugly things anyone says about or to you, ” For Jahovah so love the world, ” and ” what a friend you have in Jesus, that He gave his life for you, that you may not die but have everlasting life?”

I can’t make reference to the book, chapter and verse, but, I believe this what the Everliving God meant when He instructed us to, ” carry the Gospel of JAH written in our very hearts.”

Any and all who intentionally, unintentionally or was told of this website by someone or even me. I want you to know and understand that, this life and the universe ” HAS NO COINCIDENCE, ” this is a safe space where you can feel comfortable enough to talk about anything in conjunction with the content.

So, feel FREE to ask a question, leave a comment or just say Hi, I promise there is no one here to judge you.

All my best regards from your true friend

HOSANNA