**Inspired By A True Story**
“Happy Birthday Rachel!” that was the sound of my whole class screaming to me. It was December 5 2001 and I Rachel Marie Joseph was turning eleven I couldn’t believe I was finally eleven. I was ready to enjoy my day but something happened that day that made me wish I could have stayed in school.
When I went home my block was on lock down apparently someone was shot several times in the face nobody could recognize this lost soul. I entered my row home on the corner of 9th and Somerset there I saw my father sitting on the couch so drunk he was nearly unconscious. “Isn’t it my birthday” I thought to myself “ I should be the one having the party”. My father was always like this it made no difference if it was my birthday or Jesus’ he laid in that same spot curled up in a ball as if to say he was safe from all the misery the world brought. The only time I ever really seen him active was when well… I don’t really like talking about the other problems my father contained. You see me and my 2 other sisters weren’t the wealthiest children in the world we lost our mother to an unknown cause of cancer 2 years ago I was only 9 so I didn’t understand it. Daddy started this “PROBLEM” with my older sister Kerrienne and when she finally realized that what he was doing was wrong she tried to turn him in but it didn’t urn out the way we expected. Kerrienne ended up being sent to a group home. I was hoping today would be different but I guess it wasn’t.
5 minutes after my father noticed I was home he started yelling at me for no reason so I just went into my room where I thought everything was going to be okay. I waited until I heard all the ruckus outside my door began to die down and then I stuck my head out the door “Dad” I whispered “are you”— I was cut off by the weight that was forced in my direction. My dad pushed me in my room and threw me on my bed. I started kicking and screaming trying to pull away from him but I couldn’t his grip was strong. I wanted to cry but I knew it wouldn’t make the situation better only cause more conflict. He began to strip me of not only my clothes, but also my dignity I again tried to pull away from him but his hold was even stronger. “Why me daddy?” I asked tears streaming down my face. “Shut up hoe” he replied, “ you give it to them little nasty boys in the streets” and then he thrust himself inside of me, I let out I dieing yell.
This continued for about 3 weeks until I was unable to take it anymore.I didn't tell anyone about it for fear of being teased or judged. At age eleven I had seen many things little ones shouldn’t know. I waited until the sun tucked itself beneath the quilt of the horizon before my journey took action. I quickly packed my things and tiptoed quietly into the living room where my father was in a deep drunken sleep. I made sure to be very quiet in making my way out the door. When I left I headed towards the avenue. “hey momma” strange men from alley ways called out to me I was afraid but I couldn't let them know that would only give them a chance to take my weakness for granted.As I began to think where da hell was I goin' I had never thought I'd make it this far so i didn't plan beyond here.There I was eleven years old wandering the streets at nearly midnight. I overheard the sounds of two men speaking. One was tall and built like Debo from Friday he was threatening the other man "Nigga you keep comin' up short imma have to do something you gon regret" The other man was standing there with his eyes stuck on the other mans right hand."Ard man I got chu I dont kno whats been going on with me lately",then he walked away.
I started to cross the street to remove myself from that side and when I stepped out to cross I heard a schreeching noise and when I turned around... BOOM!! I was hit,I was down and I wasn't getting up.I cried, boy did I cry not only because of the injury done to my right leg but because I was afraid that my father would find out, only God knew what I was in for. I fell asleep and when I awoke their was a strangely dressed women standing above me. She sat down and explained to me that I was hit by a dunk driver and that she would be taken me to a new home. One where I might be seperated from my family."What, why? cant I just stay with my grandmother or someone" I cried out."We're sorry Rachel we have no record of you having any surviving family members."Surviving? I asked, What do you mean surviving where's my little sister?" "Im sorry Rachel, she replied but your house was burnt down by some drug dealers looking for your dad but he stepped out to get some air leaving your little sister alone to suffer" I started immediately filling with tears.She told me that my father was found to be the murderer of John Ulysses Grant, the man killed on my birthday, I wasnt suprised. I heard that name before my father never spoke very nicely of him. My leg was amputated and I was sent to a Group home. Being here was an amazing experience I love all of you from the bottom of my heart. "awwwwwww Rach" my new brothers and sisters replied. "That story was..... was....ummm something" Tonya said with tears in her eyes.
Its been nearly 7 years since this incident and i still remember every detail I loved my father but it seemed he didn't love me enough to know when to draw the line....
The End
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