by Lake, Thalia
Before You Read…
I want my readers to know that this book tackles some very tough subjects like incest, child abuse, and mental abuse. There is also a heavy amount of curse words used, mostly in the beginning of the book. I don’t typically write with a lot of curse words, but with the story I was telling—I felt it was necessary. Because of the subject matter and language used, I wanted to make this clear as this may not be the type of subject matter that some are comfortable reading about.
This story is about how such heinous abuse can affect the entire family in various ways. More importantly, this story is about having the strength and courage to seek out professional help, even if it’s many years after the fact. It is my hope that I’ve effectively brought this theme to light with this story. Thank you.
- Thalia
JESSICA WATKINS PRESENTS
Pain Lived, Love Found
THALIA LAKE
Chapter One - Where I Came From
Looking at me you probably wouldn’t believe that the woman I am today lived a life filled with pain, anger, and childhood abuse. It’s only through the grace of God that I made it through years of heartache and disappointment, to finally find true love. I’m talking about the kind of love that’s real…meaningful and reciprocated. Today I’m happily married to a wonderful, kind, sexier-than-sin husband with whom I have four beautiful children. If it were up to him, we’d have four more!
I happily scaled back on a career that I worked very hard to become successful at, to raise our children in a loving, healthy environment. When I was a child, I couldn’t imagine living this life or breaking free from the cycle of dysfunction my siblings and I grew up in. That’s because when I was a child, there were many times when I simply wanted to die.
Now that I’ve allowed you a glimpse of my world, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sloane, and I’m going to tell you about the pain I lived and the love I found. I’ll start from the beginning.
My parents, Betty Jean and Johnny Paris, Sr., are both from a town in Alton, Alabama. Typical of small towns, everybody knows everybody, and this was true for Betty Jean and Johnny. They basically grew up together, and their families knew each other as well. Both came from large families; likewise, they both came from abusive families that included sexual and physical abuse. My mother, in particular, came from a broken family, abandoned by her parents and raised by her grandmother.
My mother is a short woman with a stocky build. In her younger years, she had the shape of a brick house: big boobs, small waist, big booty and wide hips. No doubt that is what caught my father’s eye, besides the fact that my mother is also very pretty with cat eyes, full lips, and smooth peanut butter skin.
Despite my mother’s stunning looks, she had the temper of a rattlesnake and could scrap like a pit bull. It was nothing for her to fight grown men and women when she was nothing but a child herself. She was a force to be reckoned with, and her tough upbringing made her that way. Betty Jean was also a loner and didn’t make friends easily. She never looked for trouble, but if trouble came looking for her she made sure they regretted it.
She was a teenager when she fell madly in love with my father, Johnny Paris, who was five years older than her. My great-grandmother, affectionately called Madea, never liked Johnny. To her he was a snake in the grass which couldn’t be trusted. He was a fast-talking man who loved to brag, qualities that only spelled trouble in Madea’s eyes. The problem was her granddaughter thought she had finally hit the jackpot when this handsome, dark-skinned man showed interest in her.
And it wasn’t just Madea who didn’t like Johnny Paris. My mother’s brothers didn’t like him either. Johnny Paris had a reputation for being a ladies’ man and a liar, and they didn’t want their sister associating with a man with such a shady reputation. Despite her family’s opposition, when she was seventeen, Betty Jean ran off and married twenty-two-year-old, Johnny Paris. They moved to Detroit, Michigan in the late 1960’s in search of work and a better life, but Betty Jean’s life has been nothing but hell ever since.
Chapter Two - Never Ending Infidelity
My father’s cheating had started before they moved to Detroit. His dalliances were more discreet because he didn’t want the judgment of the small town they lived in back in Alabama, or the disapproval and disdain of his parents. When my parents moved to Detroit, my father’s infidelity became blatant and out of control. My parents fought constantly about his cheating and staying out late. When they first arrived in Detroit, they stayed with my uncle Earl and his wife Patricia, who were having their own marital problems. Soon my mother was pregnant with my oldest sister Sarah. My mother was tired of living in someone else’s home and wanted a home of her own. Finally, my father found a flat for them to live in, which made my mother temporarily happy - until random prank calls began to occur. The person on the other end of the phone, a woman, would taunt my mother and call her names, telling her that Johnny Paris was her man too.
“Who is this? If I saw you face to face BITCH, I bet you wouldn’t talk this shit! Come to my house and say this shit to my face! I will stomp a mud hole in yo’ stankin’ ass, you low life bitch! Johnny Paris is MY HUSBAND, and you better stay away from him and stop calling my house!” Betty Jean yelled before slamming down the phone. She was breathing heavily and shaking with rage. Sarah was in the background crying because Betty Jean was in the middle of feeding her before she got interrupted with the prank phone calls.
Just then, Johnny walked through the door, tired and dirty from a long day of work at the steel factory where he was a mechanic for the industrial machines. Betty Jean charged at him like a pit bull, her eyes crazed with anger.
“Why is some bitch calling my goddamn house harassing me about you? Talkin’ bout you her man too?”
“What the hell are you talking about Betty Jean? What woman? I ain’t got no other woman! Don’t start this shit again girl!” Johnny yelled back as he brushed past his wife and made his way to his easy chair to sit down for a moment before he took his bath.
“And why is the baby screaming like that?” Johnny asked, as he got up and went to pick up his little girl, kissing her cheeks trying to get her to quiet down. While he was glad to see his child, he knew his raging wife wouldn’t attack him while he was holding their daughter.
Betty Jean looked at her husband with a face that said, ‘Don’t bullshit me.’
“Johnny, don’t lie to me. This woman said your name, she knows you. I know you’re still out in them streets hoeing around, so stop lying! Who is she, and why is she calling my house?” Betty Jean demanded.
Johnny put Sarah back down in her playpen and got in Betty Jean’s face. He knew he was playing with fire when she was angry like this.
“Look, I told you I don’t know who she is, and you better stop accusing me of shit before I pack my shit and leave your ass! Then what will you have? Where will go you? Ain’t nobody gonna want you with a kid! You fat and done let yourself go so ain’t nobody gonna want your ass BUT me!”
Johnny knew better than to try to physically fight Betty Jean. They’d had many physical fights and she’d always won. One time she stabbed him in the leg with a knife, barely missing a major artery, and left him to bleed all over the place while she went to work as a maid at a hotel downtown. Betty Jean was a special kind of crazy, and Johnny got off on it. He loved pushing her buttons and watching her explode. Their relationship was sick and warped, but it made sense to them. He may not be able to beat her physically, but he could always tear her down mentally. Her low self-esteem gave him the power over her, and he used it on a daily basis. He knew Betty Jean’s weaknesses and fears, and her biggest fear was being alone, without a man, without him.
Betty
Jean should have punched his teeth out for speaking to her in such a demeaning and hateful way, yet she did nothing. She stood looking at him with her feelings hurt, like a child who was firmly chastised by her parent. Finally she spoke.
“If that bitch calls my house again, it’s gonna be trouble for you and her. If I ever see her, I will beat her within an inch of her life. Is that clear?” With that Betty Jean walked away and tended to her baby, feeding her and rocking her while she apologized for taking so long to feed her. The entire time she shot daggers at her lying, cheating husband until he walked away and went to the bathroom to run his bath water.
These fights over other women went on for their entire marriage. Soon they had two more kids barely a year apart, a girl Carly, and a boy Johnny Jr. Three years later they had another son, Michael. It was during this pregnancy with Michael that Betty Jean got another phone call from a woman. This time the woman called to inform her that she too was pregnant with Johnny Paris’ baby. Betty Jean was devastated.
With tears in her eyes she waited for her husband to come home from work with a butcher knife in her hand. Her two girls and son were playing quietly in the back room. They were well behaved children who rarely acted out because Betty Jean trained them to be well behaved. When Johnny made it home, Betty Jean was standing at the door. There was no mistaking the shiny butcher knife she held in her hand, and Johnny instantly became afraid. He knew something bad happened to have his wife this pissed, and he knew it had to be LulaBelle. He fought with LulaBelle the night before at the bar, and she kept threatening to tell Betty Jean about the baby she was carrying if Johnny didn’t divorce Betty Jean. Johnny may have been a low down cheat, but one thing he was never going to do was leave or divorce Betty Jean. He had it too good with her. She was a wonderful cook, a hard worker, she kept a clean house, and she took great care of their children. What man didn’t want a wife like that? What man in his right mind would leave a woman like her? He had his cake on the side, and Betty Jean knew it, but as long as she didn’t have to see it or interact with these other women, she didn’t care. As long as she didn’t see evidence of his infidelity, she was fine. LulaBelle brought the evidence to Betty Jean’s doorstep, and now it was a problem. A huge problem.
“You got some other woman pregnant Johnny?” Betty Jean asked in a calm but deadly voice.
“Let me in the house Betty Jean, and put that knife away before somebody gets hurt,” Johnny said coolly even though he was scared shitless.
“Answer my goddamn question!” Betty Jean screamed. “Did you get LulaBelle pregnant?” she demanded, her eyes full of hurt and rage.
“She ain’t pregnant. She’s lying. She’s just mad that I won’t leave you for her. I’m not going anywhere Betty, you know that baby. I want to be here with you and the kids, that’s it. LullaBelle came on to me a while back at the bar and I turned her down. She’s been trying to mess me up ever since.”
Betty Jean knew she shouldn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth, but she did. He said everything she wanted to hear, and Johnny knew his wife was satisfied with his explanation. She slowly walked to the kitchen and put the knife away, and Johnny followed her. She turned to face him and said, “You better make sure she never calls here again with those lies Johnny. I don’t need to be dealing with this shit while I’m carrying this baby,” she said, as she rubbed her big seven month pregnant belly.
“I’m gonna take care of it Betty Jean, don’t you worry,” Johnny said, as he hugged his wife. Betty Jean was stiff in his arms at first but soon softened up. Johnny was pissed. LulaBelle broke his cardinal rule and now she had to pay. He couldn’t lay his hands on Betty Jean, but Johnny Paris didn’t hesitate to beat the women he had on the side, and tonight he would deal with LulaBelle once and for all.
After dinner Earl came by the house to pick Johnny up. Johnny told Betty Jean he was just going to the bar around the corner to shoot some pool with his brother and some friends. Betty Jean knew they were up to something, but she let her husband leave the house without a word. She played with her kids and read them books after their baths before putting them to bed. She sat up in her bed and watched her favorite TV shows until her husband returned from his night out. All she had to do was smell him to know which woman he had been with that night. She memorized all of their cheap perfumes.
Johnny and Earl pulled up in front of LulaBelle’s house. Earl had a worried look on his face as he knew what his brother was about to do.
“She’s pregnant man. You can’t go whoopin’ up on a pregnant woman!” Earl exclaimed, as he tried to reason with his brother.
“She should’ve kept her damn mouth shut! She knows what I’m about. She knows I’m never leaving Betty Jean and she still tried to mess up my life at home with my wife and kids. Naw, bro, she has to pay for that.”
With those parting words Johnny got out of the car and stormed to the front door of LulaBelle’s house. He banged on her door like a crazed man until LulaBelle answered. She tried to protest but Johnny wasn’t hearing any of it as he grabbed her by her upper arm and pushed her inside and up the stairs to her flat.
Earl could hear the yelling and screaming and slaps from the car, and he was getting scared that a neighbor would call the cops. The last thing he needed was for him and Johnny to be thrown into jail.
“I told your ass to stay away from my wife, didn’t I? I told you not to call her with no bullshit and you did it anyway! Why LulaBelle? Why? You know I’m not leaving her. I don’t care if you have ten of my kids. I’m never leaving Betty Jean!”
“You said you loved me and wanted to be with me Johnny! Why would you say that if you love your wife so much?” LulaBelle asked bitterly through tears. Her face was bruised and her bottom lip was busted and bleeding. Johnny had whooped a fit on her.
“Bitch, what I do or don’t do with my wife is none of your goddamn business! And this baby you’re carrying? That ends tonight.” With that, Johnny grabbed LulaBelle by her hair and dragged her to the long stairwell. LullaBelle was screaming and fighting with everything in her to try to stop Johnny from doing what she knew he was going to do, but Johnny overpowered her. Soon she was at the edge of the stairs, crying and begging Johnny not to do it.
“Johnny please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’ll never call her again. I’ll never say anything. Just don’t kill my baby! Please, Johnny!” Despite her desperate pleas, Johnny Paris kicked her in her stomach to send her tumbling down the fifteen stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom. Earl jumped out of the car at the commotion he heard at the same time the door of LulaBelle’s house busted open. Johnny came storming out, not even bothering to close it upon his exit. Earl didn’t have to ask his brother what he had done because he already knew. He made LulaBelle miscarry their baby. What worried Earl even more was that Johnny didn’t even stick around to see if LulaBelle was alive with the fall she took.
“Get back in the car and take us to the bar. NOW!” Johnny yelled. Earl ran back to the car and got inside and sped off to their favorite hole in the wall. They had a couple of shots of Jack Daniels while smoking cigarettes, neither one of them saying a word. Johnny paid their tab and told Earl, “Take me home.” Earl took Johnny home and they never spoke of that night again.
It didn’t take long for Betty Jean to figure out what her husband had done to LulaBelle that night. Everyone was talking about the bad shape LulaBelle was in and that she had lost a baby. Soon Betty Jean was bragging to her friends and sisters-in-law about what her husband did to one of his side women. She viewed his despicable act as something to be proud of. He put his mistress in her place. He not only shut her up, but he also got rid of the outside baby. In her warped mind, this proved his love for her, and it made her feel all the more special and important, even if it was temporary.
Chapter Three - Protect Your Children
Two years after Michael was born I came along, the fifth child. Shortly after I was born, my parents bought their first home, and it was there that they
raised their family. My father doted on me because I looked like him, only with lighter skin. My complexion is more of a light brown where he was a dark ebony hue. I had my mother’s eyes but the rest of my features were all of my father’s, including his dimples. There was no mistaking that I was Johnny Paris’ daughter even though Junior was also a dead ringer for our father as well. Whatever I asked for—he gave it to me and he rarely said no to me. As the youngest child I was very spoiled, so much so that I was nicknamed “untouchable” by my older siblings. This was because my father didn’t allow anyone to touch me—including my mother, who wasn’t allowed to spank me. Of course when he wasn’t around she spanked me when I needed it.
It wasn’t until I was older that I truly noticed how differently I was treated from my other siblings, and I didn’t like it. However, my father didn’t discriminate when it came to his abusive words and actions. Everyone in the house was on the receiving end of his wrath, including me. We were called stupid, dumb, and no good, among other things on a daily basis. He constantly told my brothers that they wouldn’t amount to anything.
“Neither one of y’all will ever be shit. You’ll end up in jail, and when you do don’t look for me to get you out. You can rot in there for all I care,” was what he would tell them.
Five and a half years after I was born my mother gave birth to her final and sixth child, Evan. He made the family even, and now it was three girls and three boys like the Brady Bunch—only we were the depressing, sick version of that family. We were very close siblings. We looked out for each other, and that was because we were all we had. It was ingrained in us by our mother to always look out for one another. She taught my older brothers to always look after their sisters, to never let anyone mess with us or their baby brother. My mother didn’t mind her boys fighting as long as they didn’t start the fight, and they had better not ever lose a fight or else she’d beat their ass when they got home. She taught my brothers more about fighting than her cowardly husband ever did. He only knew how to talk slick. Betty Jean knew how to whoop ass.
