BOOK COVER DESIGN BY MOYE'WWW.MOYEPHOTO.NETExcerpt From Put it on PaperThe PastI've come to believe that a person is angry for a reason. No matter what the problem is discrimination, drug abuse, sexual assault/rape the problem stems from some where and most likely someone. I had reasons for my nasty attitude, not to say it justified me being an obnoxious person, but it acknowledged that it was a problem within me seeking help. Please know that it was hard for me to get to the point of expressing the situations that you are about to read. Some of the content may be offensive and hard for many of you to read, just know that I have to take you where I've been to get you to where I stand. Through my faith and forgiving heart I forgive those that abused me, the hardest part was forgiving me. Taking my emotions out on family and friends was how I dealt with the anger I carried inside. I realized that when I thought I had actually finished my book that it was not complete. There was more to the story than I was willing and ready to tell. I continue to heal even as I type this it lets me know that I am growing, maturing, loving and accepting of my past and geared up for what the future holds. The piece that you are about the read is my actual beginning of it all.I was a little girl standing out in front of my duplex on Dundeen Street bouncing a plastic purple and white ball that had a cloud like pattern. A man pulled up in front of my home in a long gray car and asked me where Dundeen Court was. I hesitated as I took small steps towards the car. I knew about stranger danger, so I froze in my last step and pointed down the street towards the dead end circle called Dundeen Court. When I looked up he had his penis in his hand stroking it up and down with an evil smirk upon his face. Luckily for me he drove off. Was I lucky? I picked my ball up and bounced it with a continuous thrust, trying to block what I had seen out of my mind. I did not tell anybody. I was five or six years old. She placed her hands on my shoulders and directed me towards the bathroom. The house was clear of everyone that would have noticed why we were going in there together. The body of the white porcelain tub was wide with an enormous belly. The tiny sized bathroom was accommodated with the necessities for bathing and eliminating waste. She placed a white towel down on the floor in front of the tub and told me to take off of my clothes. The four rounded corners had scalloped embroidered legs with cobwebs on the right leg of the tub. Silence was among us as she took off her clothes. She told me to lie down on my stomach, I lay fearful and unsure of what was about to take place. Her large brown body stood over me as I wondered why I am here. She lay on top of me and rotated her large frame on my buttocks. I wondered what she was doing as secretion moisten my tender backside. As she reached her climax she shivered and shook. I had no feeling to what had transpired, just what was she doing. It must have felt good, because it happened again and again. She said get up as she reached for the bath cloth and soap and wiped my lower bottom area down, which was drenched in bodily fluids. "You better not tell anybody!" she said, and I didn't. I cry every time I watch Antoine Fisher I was in the third grade. He pulled out his penis and told me you have never seen a **** this big before. He would get between my legs and roll on me after he pretended to play fight with me. Seducing me with words as his body wiggled a feeling between my legs. Was I a bad kid for feeling this way? I was 11 years old. My mom sent me to neighborhood store on a Saturday evening to get a pair of panty hose for church. I put on my coat and walked to the store with my hands in my coat pocket. As I got to the corner of Caldwell and 9th Street I stopped for a car. A car filled with Caucasian teenagers yelled out obscenities and spit, no let me rephrase that hawked on my coat and face. I remember my mom being in a rage, out for blood. With tears in her eyes, I scared while my mom said burn that coat. Here I am now with the burden off of my shoulders. I speak freely about the factors that lead up to the risky choices that made and make a difference in my life and others. At age 33, the month before my 34th birthday in 2005 I told my mother about the molestations I endured and carried with me through out the years. I explained to her that it was not her fault and I dealt with it. I attended counseling and support group meetings to help me cope. I remember meeting with a group of women and each and every one of them had been molested by someone. We released the baggage and anger we suffered by blowing out through our mouths towards a candle that sat in the middle of the circle. As we stood in a circle with our arms wrapped around one another the smell was like no other, not a bad breath smell, but a smell that confirmed it was time to let go of the negativity that suppressed us. We were told to breathe in new air, happy thoughts and faith. As this took place the air was clean and crisp with nothing to obvious including dust to detour our path to serenity. I had forgiven everyone that caused me to endure the unnatural, but I never forgot. Now it is time for me to release the risky behaviors that allowed me to get caught up so that I can help the many enduring the same issues breakthrough. Unlike what I did, talk to someone, don't carry this burden alone and know that it is not your fault. Tell someone you trust I wish I did. And always keep the faith.DeVondia