While riding my bike, I became thirsty. I remembered the punch mama made and I went upstairs to get a drink. She would make it with lemons and sliced oranges. I use to love to swirl the frosty glass in a circular motion and hear the sound of the large ice cubes as they hit the glass…so mouth watering, cool and refreshing. Now that dad was gone, she’d picked up some of her motherly ways again…with baking and setting the table, just like old times.

It was about noon, I rushed upstairs to my apartment, opened the screen door and the big door was locked. That was weird because mom kept the door unlocked when we would play outside. So I began to knock on the door and call her, “Ma ! I’m thirsty! Open up!” I called several times. I then heard a loud thump from the other side of the door, like someone had run into it. I heard my mom screaming and crying at the same time, “Please stop! Oh God Help! Help me!” I ran to the window which was on the left side of the door. I pressed my left cheek against it so that I can try and see her from the corner of my eye…through the crack of the security bars and hanging window shade. Oh my God!…it was my dad in there beating her like a punching bag in her midsection, one blow after another, like a mad man! My Dad was at least 5′ 8″ 260 lbs., my mom about 5′ 5″ 170 lbs., nine months pregnant…no match at all.

I couldn’t scream or shout because I started to shake out of control. Even if I’d asked for help, no one would because they feared him. So I stayed in the doorway while crying in a fetal position, helplessly listening to my mom’s excruciating cry for help. I listened to her wounded heart begged to be saved from the hands of the man, who stole her heart and introduced her to his isolated dark and morbid world; “My First Perception of A Man.”

As I sat there between the doors, shaking and gripping my stomach, I listened to my mom’s moans slowly fade out. I realized it was finally over. I could hear her faint voice moaning, crying and praying. I visualized my mom, sliding down into the fetal position just as I was on the other side of the door…and there we were, both trapped in a world that appeared to be unable to escape. I placed the palms of my hands on the door, along with my cheek. I closed my tearful eyes and in my mind, I held her and rocked her in my arms while whispering in her ear, “If I was the mom, I would take you away.”

I didn’t understand this type of love. I couldn’t help but wonder, would he love me this way one day? I made myself a promise to always do the right thing and never upset him. I never wanted to feel that type of love. (The seed of abuse had now mentally been planted)

Later that night, my mom gave birth to a ten-pound baby boy. It was the happiest but the saddest day of my life. I couldn’t understand why a gracious God from Heaven would let a beautiful miracle be born in a place called “Hell.”

http://amzn.to/1LWCQCl ” A BLACK ROSE THRIVED”




  1. Thank you for sharing this excerpt. Very powerful and moving scene from your life and I commend you for posting such an honest glimpse. I am not sure I could do the same. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “The seed of abuse had now been mentally planted” – some don’t know this and the placement of abuse grows throughout our lives. Great message/reflection for your readers.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you Dray…It took a while to get to this place. I thought about co workers and other business associates knowing my past…and what they would think of me. But I’ve come to know, accept and understand that it isn’t about me.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Woww!! Rochelle, might I first say thank you sincerely for sharing this excerpt. For one, it is a brilliant marketing idea, as you have me uber excited to purchase and read your book! More importantly though, it provides great room for healing. Not only for yourself but also for anyone reading this, who might have experienced anything remotely similar to this.

    The pain that was in my heart as my eyes danced from word to word, was all too familiar. I’ve been confronting so much hurt, pain and abuse I suffered as a child and into my adulthood on my own website/ blog, and I have yet to get this stage of my past. I’m crying right now, as I think about the stories I’ve heard and horror memories I still harbor, of my mother’s beatings as I was a child. I just wanted to save her so bad. I wanted to be big enough to hurt her boyfriends, worse than they hurt her.

    I hated that she couldn’t protect us. Because I knew worse than her own pain, was her having to know we watched it, and at too many times, suffered it ourselves. I just want you to know that I thank you for helping me first confront this age old hurt, right here in your comments sections. It’ll likely be a little while longer before I’m ready to go full throttle with such a confrontation on my own blog. But, I feel really whole knowing that you opened up a conversation here, for any and everyone, including me. A conversation I can sure say, I’ve been too scared to write about until now.

    Side note, as for your coworkers and anyone else seeing this, that may have not known these depths of your story before this, they’ll either get it or they won’t. At the end of the day, you and I both know who this is really for. And she is thanking you to the highest moon for freeing her sorrow. That she, of course, is you. God bless you my love!! Forever and always! And thank you, again! (Btw, excuse my paragraphs, I tend to write a lot when I’m really feeling something. I hope you’ll understand).

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I truly understand the length and depth of your writing…:) and if this day was a ahha moment for you, I am so proud to be a part of that. I understand when you say that you are not ready to go full throttle with your story and that is ok. It took me ten years to pick up my pen and write. I thought out of site out of mind. But I was wrong. My pain affected relationships with men and with female friends. I got tired of living in pain from my past. So I started a journal and the next thing I know I had written my book. It was the best thing that I could ever do for myself and my life has changed drastically. But the best and most rewarding is when I hear from readers as yourself. I understand and have truly accepted that my testimony is not about me anymore. I am proud of you and love you for speaking out today. You keep writing and writing until it is all out. Writing is your healing. You will start writing for you and than you will realize that it is not about you anymore…which is the first sign of healing. Send me your email and I will be glad to send you a free copy of my book ” A BLACK ROSE THRIVE” Again, thank you for an inspiring comment. You have truly blessed me today…:) my email is rchllmr.moore@gmail.com …send your email address to me and you can have your copy today.

    Liked by 1 person

Thank you for your comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s