I grew up in a family that went to chruch every Sunday.  Throughout the weeks my mother and her husband did their thing.(cheat)  She seen who she wanted to see and he seen who he wanted to see.  Every Thursday he stayed out because that was pay day. He slept with everything and everyone under the sun.  On Friday nights he would come back to the house where we lived with us. He would start trouble with his my mom.  He would beat her up so bad that, the Police would ride through the block every week to see if their was a problem. In most cases they would lock him up and let him out the next day.  My mother would get some clothes and we would go to her mothers house when we were younger; I was about 4- 5 years old and older as the years went by.  My grandmother would talk to him and her each time this happened. She told them it was not healthly for us the children to grow up and see parents acting this way.  She told my mother  that she should make a discussion, she would stay with him or leave him. She decided to go back home because her husband promised her that it would not happen again.  Well it happened even more, every week the same thing over and over again. Police coming to lock him up and she kept returning to the same abuse.  

My step father’s behavioral got even worst as we gpt older.  My mother was pregnant with with her third child. She was wishing that it was a boy.  While my mother was in the hospital giving birth to my sister Johnia, her husband was surpose to be caring for me and my step sister Brenda, he was in his bedroom having sex with a woman he brought to the house.  He just did not care about no body and nothing.  My mother had a difficult time carrying my sister Johnia.  I was told she almost died and her husband was not their by her side through all her pain and suffering.

What I did not like about my mother was she went to chruch every Sunday and she tried to convence people she was this holely person. Holy people protect their child from being sexually abused by her husband and his brothers.   I had this strong belief that my stepfather was not my real father even though my mother had me call him dad.  When I would cry to her about something and I would tell her I wanted my father, she would say to me, "this is father" my stepfather would beat me. And I  would be punished.  One day my mother's sister Ollie May came over and I remember her saying to my mother, " When are you going to tell her the truth about her father."  When I over heard the conversation, I was releaved that what I aways believed was true, my step father was not my father. In my heart I always felt that my real fathers would not let some family members rape his daughter.  Not knowning who my real fathers was, I knew I would look for him until the day I would die. My father was all I could thing about and I was not going to stop looking until I found him.