Sugar Walls
Brittani Williams
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Sugar’s the Name
Chapter 2 - Good for the Gander . . .
Chapter 3 - Dollar Signs
Chapter 4 - Sisterly Love . . .
Chapter 5 - Like mother Not Like daughter . . .
Chapter 6 - From Bad to Worse . . .
Chapter 7 - New Intentions
Chapter 8 - One More Chance
Chapter 9 - Ruins . . .
Chapter 10 - Sugar Walls . . .
Chapter 11 - A Game of Domino
Chapter 12 - Tear us apart
Chapter 13 - Short Lived . . .
Chapter 14 - Second Time for Love
Chapter 15 - Words Will Never Hurt Me . . .
Chapter 16 - Marlo: Lost and Found
Chapter 17 - Sugar: Beginning of Life
Chapter 18 - Never Loved Any More . . .
Chapter 19 - The Truth, No More Lies . . .
Epilogue
Black Diamond 3: Lucky Chance
About the Author
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Wow, book number two and I thank God for the opportunity. I dedicate everything that I do to my wonderful son Kristion and I hope you know that all of my hard work is for you. My mom and dad who have supported me tremendously throughout this process, I love you both with all of my heart and I’m glad that you believe in me. Curt, thanks for promoting me and selling my books! I appreciate all of your support and I’m glad that I have you standing behind me. To my cousin Peaches who I love dearly, thanks for all of the encouragement and your phone calls to say I love you. To all of my other family members I love you all and thanks for the support.
To Jennifer B, thanks for posting my postcards on your runs, it is your promotion that helps me sell books and I definitely appreciate that. I love you.
To my Pink Lace ENT girls, Jennifer, Nikki & Bebe, thanks for being such good friends and taking on a business venture with me. Though I know things were rough, I appreciate you all standing behind me.
To my special friend Buck Wild, thanks for all of the support and encouragement and thanks for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I will always love you for that if nothing else.
To Angie, thanks for promoting me all around the hospital, I feel so blessed to have someone like you around. To all of my other friends Ebey, Big Lil, Mike, Pat S, Ambi, April, Ang, Christina, Andre, and anyone that I have forgotten. I love you all.
To all of the people that have helped me promote either my book or my promotion company, Meastr’o ENT, Steve & Darrell, It is what it is ENT, Familia Facez, Flyata Designs and Rell 1800, thanks for all of your help. It is greatly appreciated.
To all of my co-workers, thanks so much for standing behind me and pushing me to keep going. I hope you all are proud of me.
Mark Anthony, I’m so glad that you gave me the chance to shine. You believed in my project and even when I doubted it, you didn’t. I couldn’t ask for a better boss and I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. We’re going to kill ’em this time!
Nakea Murray, thanks for all of the help and the knowledge that you have given me. When I needed someone to talk to you’ve always been there for me and I’m glad to have you in my life as a friend as well as professionally. I don’t think that I’ve realized my full potential but I’m glad that you’ve always believed in me.
K. Elliot, thanks for my spot in Fantasy and Azarel thanks for my spot in Flexin and Sexin. You both have given me more chances to shine. I now have four projects in rotation at the same time, in one year! Thanks a bunch.
Anna J., girl I’m glad that you’re always there to tell my crazy stories to and be a great friend when I need one.
K’wan, my homie, I’ve learned a lot from you and trust me, I’ve retained it all. You are the bomb and I hope to reach your level one day.
Erick S. Gray, you have been an inspiration and I thank you for being so humble. Miasha, you have always been so sweet and I’m so happy for you and all of your accomplishments. Girl keep up the good work. To all of the other authors that I’ve come in contact with Daaimah S. Poole, Dejon, Andrea Blackstone, Zane, Allison Hobbs, Nicolette, Danette Majette, Donna Hill, Mika Miller, Hickson, Treasure E. Blue, and Latrese Carter, you all are an inspiration to me.
Karim Muhammed, you are the best photographer in the world. Thanks for taking such wonderful pictures of me.
To the As the Page Turns Book Club members, thanks for being so honest and supporting me with my book. I’m so glad that I decided to join such an exciting group. To all of the other book clubs out there, I believe I speak for all authors when I say we appreciate the support.
All of my readers, I am going to keep them coming so look out for me in 2008. I’m working on something big. To everyone that has stopped by www.brittani-williams.com and www.mypace.com/msbgw all of your comments keep me going. I promise that I won’t disappoint you.
To all those that I didn’t name, again charge it to my mind and not my heart. To those that believe in me and even those that don’t I’m going to prove my point one way or another. It is definitely my time to shine!
Brittani
A few seconds of pleasure can lead to a lifetime of pain . . .
Prologue
“I’m sorry, Mommy! I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble. I promise,” I cried.
“I know you will, and I want you to remember this so there won’t be any more mistakes!” my mother yelled before shoving me into the tub full of hot water.
“Please don’t, Mommy,” I pleaded. I just wanted to go to bed and forget all about today.
“It’s too late for that!” She pulled her long, black, leather belt through each loop of her denim jeans in seconds.
I blacked out once she began to hit me across my back and behind with the belt. I couldn’t cry because I was in so much pain. I held it in, which only fueled her fire and caused me to receive more hits across the back. After my father came home and heard me in the bathroom screaming and begging her to stop, he entered the bathroom and grabbed her by the arm.
“That’s enough!” he yelled.
“I don’t think she gets the point. She hasn’t even shed a tear!” she yelled.
“Look, I said that’s enough. Get her out of that tub and let her go to bed, she has school tomorrow,” he instructed.
“Come on! Go take your behind to bed, and you better remember what I said too,” she yelled, before pushing me out of the bathroom.
I ran out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where my sister was lying down pretending to be sleep. I put on my nightgown after drying of and after crawling under the sheets I began to cry hoping that I wasn’t loud enough to be heard by my mother.
“Are you OK?” my sister whispered across the room.
“What do you think? No, I’m not OK!”
“Well, why are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Because it’s all your fault that she beat me. If you would have stayed by my side when we walked from school, this would have never happened. She told me to keep an eye on you and even after I told you that, you wandered off.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again! OK?”
“I hope not,” I said, turning over and closing my eyes. I said a silent prayer and thanked God for my father walking in at the right time. That was the first time that I had even been beaten so badly, and I hoped that it would be the last. I begged my sister to stay out of trouble because I would take the blame for it. Sisters
are supposed to stick together, and if knowing her actions would cause me harm wasn’t enough to keep her straight, then I didn’t know what else would.
I drifted off to sleep within minutes, and in the morning my mother acted as if last night never happened. I couldn’t pretend because my back and behind were still stinging from the lashes on them. It was hard for me to even sit down and eat my cereal that morning. I was ten and even though I was more advanced than any ten year old in my school, I couldn’t understand why a mother would hurt their child the way that she had hurt me.
I believed that my father was my savior, but that would be the last time that he intervened when I was being abused. The hits never stopped, and each time he would turn his head and ignore it. I would never forget that and I would never forgive him for it either.
Chapter 1
Sugar’s the Name
It was cold, dark, snowing, and lonely as I lay tied up with no idea where I was. I could feel each of my limbs freezing one by one. I could barely even speak, let alone scream for help. No one could help me; no one even knew where I was except the bastard that put me here. I could hear random noises in the background—police sirens, horns beeping, music playing—but all of those sounds were distant and too far away for my weakened voice to be heard. There was a blanket over my entire body, and I didn’t have enough energy to sit up and see where I was.
The way that I had mapped out my life, I never thought that it would land me there. I had a plan A, B, and C, none of which included being beaten, tied up, and left for dead in the snow. That cold, dark night led me to reflect back to how I got there and how it all began. It also made me wonder if I could have done anything to prevent it or done anything different to make my life turn out the way that I had originally planned.
I thought back, and I should have known I was cursed from the beginning with a name like Sugar Alise Clark. I always wondered how I got a name like Sugar, and the only explanation was that I reminded her of the drugs she called Sugar. Did that mean I ruined her life? Did that mean I was that bad that I could be compared to a drug? I was born to an alcoholic, drug-addicted mother and a deadbeat, drunk-ass father. I’m surprised DHS even allowed them to bring me home from the hospital! It’s amazing how the things that you think a child should be taken away for are totally opposite of the things that they are really taken away for.
My mother Elaine was once a beautiful woman, far tucked under the tired appearance that she carried now. Pictures of her were the only proof of her past beauty, because the way that she looked now was the only way that I had ever seen her.
Elaine was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, but she moved to Philadelphia after graduating high school to attend Temple University. Her college life was short-lived when she dropped out after only two semesters. She decided that college was too hard and took too much energy to end up making less that someone with no college education. She opted to stay in Philadelphia after meeting my father Ron at an off-campus party. They hit it off quickly, but their relationship was anything but perfect. I never knew what she saw in him or even what he saw in her for that matter. They were total opposites, but they also say that opposites attract. They argued constantly, and there were numerous occasions when the police had to be called out to the apartment when their arguing escalated to blows.
Ron worked at any place he could make a quick dollar. He never had a real job, just handyman work and other things of that sort. He would cut grass in the spring and summer, rake leaves in the fall, and shovel snow in the winter—your neighborhood hustle man.
How my mom fell in love with him I’ll never know, but I do know that he was a big factor in her downfall. Soon after moving in with him, they began drinking heavily and snorting cocaine on a regular basis. Neither of them could keep a steady job, so we basically lived in poverty. My mother collected welfare from the government but never really used it to support us, she mainly used it to support her drug habits. She would sell the food stamps to buy drugs. Our parents were barely able to feed us because their drug habits were more important to them than feeding us. I was always ashamed of my mother and father, and there were many times that I wished that I had never even been born. No child should ever feel that way, but unfortunately I did.
I was their first born, with my sister Mya to follow. Mya and I were best friends growing up, close as two sisters could be. It wasn’t until I realized that she didn’t feel the same way I felt about her that our close friendship faded away.
I wasn’t fast like most young girls growing up; I didn’t lose my virginity until I was eighteen. I was never the girl that stood out; the guys in school never paid me any attention. Mya, on the other hand, received so much attention that she didn’t know how to handle it. At the young age of fifteen, Mya had her first child. Marlo was one of the unlucky men that my sister slept with—unlucky meaning the fool that got her pregnant. See, Mya had a reputation far from a good one. She was branded the “neighborhood booty” because most dudes in the hood could get some from her anytime they wanted. Especially if the money was right.
Marlo was different. He was from South Philly, so he had never had the opportunity to sit in on any conversations where Mya’s sexual favors were the topic. She met Marlo after leaving WOW skating rink on a Saturday night. Marlo noticed Mya and a group of females including me waiting on the R bus to get back home. Marlo drove up in a brand new Mazda Millennia, black with extra dark tint in all of the windows.
Mya stood about five-foot five at the time, and she wore her hair short and spiked. She lined her lips perfectly with brown lip liner and applied her cherry lip-gloss, making her lips shine. Her body was one like Halle Berry; even at the age of fourteen she mirrored that of an adult woman. Dancing in her short denim mini, there was no way that Marlo could resist.
He pulled into the gas station behind the bus stop where we were standing and beeped his horn before rolling down his window. Not calling anyone directly, Mya quickly switched over to the car, automatically assuming that he was beeping the horn for her.
“What’s up, sexy? What’s a fine-ass girl like you doing waiting at the bus stop? If that nigga you were fucking was a real man, he’d be picking you up, or better yet, he’d buy you a car so you wouldn’t have to wait on nobody’s damn bus!”
“Well, I don’t have a man, so that’s why I’m out here,” she said in a sexy tone.
“All of that can change if you want it to.”
“Oh, really!”
“Really, if you fuck with a real man and stop playing with these kids!”
“Well, I’m down for whatever! I need a real man in my life,” she said, bending over further into the car so that her entire ass was nearly hanging out of the short skirt she was wearing.
“Let me give you a ride so we can talk more. I’ll tell you all about what I can do for you on the way.”
“Cool, let me go tell my girls I’m leaving with you.”
“All right, don’t have me waiting too long!”
“I promise I won’t,” she said before walking back to where we were standing.
Angry, I spoke, “What the hell is wrong with you, Mya? You don’t even know him!”
“I will know him by the end of the night,” she laughed.
“You are so dumb, Mya! Do you even know his name? And how are you going to leave me to go home by myself. It’s ten o’clock at night.”
“You’ll be all right. I haven’t had sex in a while and I need a hook-up! Sorry, I’ll see you tonight. Cover for me with Mom.”
“As if she’ll notice you are not there anyway. She’ll be too busy getting high. And then be pissed at me tomorrow,” I yelled before she turned to walk away.
“Well then it’s settled, I’ll see you later. I promise I won’t stay out all night so she won’t even notice that I didn’t come in,” she said before running off.
“Mya!” I yelled.
Mya entered the car without even turning around to acknowledge me. I was pissed; thi
s was not the first time that she left me hanging like that and at that moment I felt that it wouldn’t be the last time either. That night, I made it home safely though I ran fast from the bus stop, afraid that I would be attacked. Entering our small, roach infested two-bedroom apartment I found my mother asleep on the living floor. There was a glass pipe or a glass “dick” as they call it less than two feet away from her. I went into my bedroom as I usually did, put on my headphones, and drifted off to sleep. I learned after many sleepless nights to wear the headphones to block out the drunken arguments between my mother and father, or the loud-ass sexual episodes they would have after getting high. I listened to my music to block out the realities of my world. The music made it easier for me to sleep at night.
Mya never came home that night, and as usual I was the one who received the punishment. Being slapped, waking me out of my sleep was something I was used to. Since I was older, and I was responsible. My mother made sure I knew if Mya messed up, I would be punished for it.
“Mom, what are you hitting me for?” I yelled, shocked by the blow to my stomach.
“Where the fuck is Mya? She didn’t come home last night. How many times do I have to tell you to make sure she brings her ass home!” she yelled.
“Mom, I tried, but she didn’t listen.” I cried.
“You didn’t try hard enough. Next time you are really going to make sure that she comes home or I’m going to fuck you up for not doing what you were told!” she yelled, pointing her index finger in my face.
“Why do I get in trouble for her?” I asked, petrified.
“Don’t question me, I pay the bills in this muthafucker, and until you get your own, don’t ask me shit! I make the rules. Don’t you ever forget that!” she yelled, leaving the bedroom and slamming the door.
I sat there and cried as I usually did. Mya was never punished for anything, only me and I was the stand-up student, how ironic is that? I came home every night; Mya maybe came home once or twice a week. Therefore I was punished five or six days a week. I was slapped, punched, kicked, and spit on for things that I didn’t even do. The abuse had only gotten worse the older we both got. Since Mya thought that she was more of an adult each year and could get away with anything, it caused more abuse to me.
Sugar Walls Page 1
