Paradyce

By Cynthia Williams

Paradyce, a teenage girl with dreams of freeing herself from the turmoil forced upon her since birth. She is trapped in a world of torture, and the more she tries to run from her past the more the past confronts her and wraps her in cycles of bewilderment and self-hate. Nothing is paradise in her life and love is nonexistent, so the only way to survive is to succumb to those who manipulate, betray, and sabotage her existence. She is lost and drowning in her nightmare, she does not know how to escape, while images of murder, rape, incest, and entrapment strikes against her soul. She is begging for someone to understand her, to accept her but no one does, not even her mother who accuses her of being a waste of seed. She wants to be more than she is but nothing will produce that mindset more than the death of love itself, which forces her to make a turnaround and confide in her own power. Nothing is, as it seems in a journey set to jealousy, torment, deceit, and defeat, so how can one be truly happy when one has never known true happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Williams
• Release date: May 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257658190

Cynthia Williams

Cynthia D. Williams, a multi-talented, high-spirited author with a unique eye for detail with an inspirational essence, which flows throughout her writing. She shares not only her world with her readers but her openness to cross barriers. She looks at her broad array of experiences as a foundation to all that she creates. She is not afraid to look within and share her mind, her stories, and her awareness of many topics that are not restricted by theme or genre. She is a universal conscious channeler, writer, artist, teacher, guide, and healer who has made it a priority in her life to inspire others to be who they would like to become. Her unique and eccentric experiences that shaped her views upon existence started at a young age, which inspired her to look beyond the veil of illusion and listen not to opinions or current trends but to the pure definition of nothingness where all is possible and created by existence as a whole.

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Paradyce

By Cynthia Williams

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Cynthia Williams on Smashwords

Paradyce

Copyright © 2011 by Cynthia Williams

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to everyone who has found and will find a sense of paradise within themselves.

Preface

I began writing this novel at work one day while reminiscing of experiences that I was still trying to overcome. The phones continued to ring but my mind envisioned a place of paradise, and as I sketched my vision onto my notebook, a story started to unfold within my mind with words of my childhood. I started to write a poetic rhyme at the bottom of my sketch but my poem soon took on a mind of its own, and became Paradyce.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Prologue

Paradyce tucked her notebook close to her envisioning the words she had written from previous nights. She could not believe that this story was her own, it seemed so unreal, but reading it convinced her that her life was not a fiction or a screwed up fairy tale. Her life was full of confusion, lies, and hatred and it was time for her to come to terms with the truth. It was almost time for school but at that moment, school seemed non-existent as she being fully dressed, remained in bed reading the previous entries of her journal.

June 21, 1999

Dear Future Life,

I have so much within my head that’s driving me crazy, I don’t know what to do, and I have no one to talk to so I will try to express my feelings in poetic form:

At night, all that was seen were red walls, crying out for someone to see the painful memories that rained down on their imaginary eyes. Paradyce was the child’s name who sat in the crib every night wanting someone to rescue her. She screamed when the same dark figure; cried out, when the hands of that dark figure grabbed her out of the crib, injected into her the finger of pain, in and out, the baby went insane. He enjoyed torturing her, the one that he was suppose to protect. She had no way out she could not even walk yet. So once again she took the dying pain, she endured the struggling days and nights that she could not escape.

The next morning her mother would come in, wrap her with all the love that she needed. Smile at her daughter, as if nothing happened while those deceitful eyes stared in with jealousy. She knew no one could harm her while her mother was there. This went on for years. Now the once terrified baby is now a terrified teen struggling through this evil world of nightmares. Will she ever learn that all men are not dark figures taking advantage of her as she pretends to sleep?

June 22, 1999

Dear Future Life,

This is my second entry but I want to share my story with you and I hope that one day when you read this again you will understand why I am so protective over you. This story will be upsetting but this is who I am and I hope to show you that the meaning of trust and love were always confused within my twisted world of nightmares. Please read with caution, grow from these memories, and remember I love you now and forever…

When I was born, I realized I was at the beginning of a devastating cycle in which all faults were visual but invisible to the naked eye. I was titled a survivor before I knew what survivor was, I was titled victim before I could hold a book. I was hated on before I could breathe my first breath; my reality was full of jealousy, deceit, and controversy.

My first words echoed across the halls for all to hear Stop, a word that I have been using throughout my life. My Uncle sat there tickling me smiling but with the notion of love while my aunt repeatedly motioned for me to put my hand up and say Stop! We moved twice before I could speak and at two years old, I reached the place in which I forgot what unconditional human love was and replaced it with the experience of hate.

I arrived at my first house, which seemed enormous to my young eyes. I could see the long engraved driveway, which seemed like my own playground, the massive backyard, which hung a swing on the old trees that created shade and the trash that buried the beauty of the grass. The first floor of the house was where we lived and opening the front door revealed to the right my brothers room, which was originally a dining room. Walking past his room was a long hall, which was covered with yellow flowery wallpaper, maroon corduroy carpet, and antique photos of presidents and ink drawn flowers. At the end of the hallway was the living room and to the right of that was my mothers room. Continuing straight through the next doorway was the kitchen, and then the bathroom and the pantry-toy room.

I smiled the entire time and couldn’t wait to see all of what I could see, and meet all of whom I could meet. While standing on the sidewalks we met our neighbors and my first friend on the street who was four years older than me but it made no difference. She sat there in her own world making circles with a stick in the dirt as if no one ever noticed her. I noticed her and walked up to her and said, Hi, I’m Paradyce. She was a heavyset little girl, and she was excited to meet someone who could see her but our little exciting meeting was abrupt due to the neighbors picking me up and saying how adorable I was.

I had big cheeks and a smile that would light up anyone’s face who dared to look. My innocent yet friendly and outspoken nature could already be seen then, and it never changed in which I would introduce myself and offered my friendship, help, and or support to random kids and people. I never had an notice me attitude but for some reason I was perceived as conceited, due to my born nature to befriend, but I did not let that stop me from learning from each person and adapting to situations yet never sacrificing who I was and my beliefs. I had an old soul and everyone could see that through my comfort around the young and the old, in which I was not judged by my age but by what I would say which echoed the words of truth, and encouragement.

The street we moved on was predominantly white, and even though we were the first African American family on the street, it was as if we had found our resting ground. Our street was peaceful with beautiful trees all around, and beautiful homes in which I later met all the neighbors and knew them by name. It consisted of the elderly and older individuals and families. On the other hand, the community within itself was crime ridden and struggled between poverty, violence, love, and hate, which created turmoil, desperation, and thievery. We were in the center of the chaos but only robbed once by a Caucasian male who entered our home twice, both times believed to be my brother entering up stairs and downstairs.

My first night at the house was in my blue metal crib that had little padding. I was laying there in my bed when my brother first hovered over me and told me for the first time that he hated me, he stared at me like he imagined me dying and I felt that hatred even at the age of two. He reached down into my pull-ups and fingered me within the darkness all you saw were his eyes shining within silence and that is when I screamed for my mother. His thoughts towards me got interrupted when my mother entered and asked me what I wanted and told me to go to sleep, my brother in dismay said that’s why I don’t want her in here, referring to my so called spoiled nature.

My aunt who was living up stairs at the time was the one who mentioned that it would be best for me to stay in his room and my mother agreed as always. They trusted me with my brother, but they didn’t see the jealousy that was within his eyes, the resentment in his ties, the connection that he kept trying to cut. He seemed more of a child like teenager who wanted all the attention and felt as if I had to be treated in the same manner as him within punishment terms. The abuse that started that night did not end that night it progressed as if I was a clueless tortured slave who in-between childhood years enjoyed each so called sexual experience that I was learning.

By the age of four, I was already a sexual being who knew what most learn by puberty. As I think, the memories continue to flash and play the remembered scenes of his adult entertainment tapes in which consisted of cartoon rape and hardcore porn. I knew every sexual position before I knew what the definition of position was. One day the lights were on, it was early afternoon. He decided to teach me how to give him a hand job, as well as the proper way to give oral sex. He covered us up, and he had nothing but his boxers on, he took my hand, told me to take his penis out and stroke it, and then cum started to flow. He drew my head closer to his penis and I licked and sucked his penis while erected, and still now, I remember the taste of his cum within my mouth. He would keep the porn on silent during the day only to raise it when everyone was away.

He brought a girlfriend over when I was six and I was usually in his room being fondled, but it seemed as if she was taking my place. When I tried to go in there with them he tried to act as if I was a nuisance and treated me like a child. That is when I realized it was wrong, through my jealousy and heartache; I went to go tell my mother about what was going on between us. I didn’t know how to explain it so I confessed that he touched me and we did things together, but she did not understand or try to understand. She continued on cooking her fried chicken not giving what I said a second thought. So, I continued letting him confuse the state of my body with a mature woman. I was so sexually confused that I started entering his bed willingly, unzipping my pants awaiting his touch while we watched the porno’s play in the background.

At the age of three, I stopped using my crib, and started to sleep in my mother’s bed. My brother then bought me a blue pull out couch when I turned eight and when my mother went to sleep he would sneak to my bed. I didn’t enjoy the feeling anymore but he was persistent in coming to me every night to the point I had to pretend I was asleep which made no difference to him. Porno's, blow up dolls, and sex magazines was not needed anymore and all he needed was my body which was not fun to me since my mind was now maturing. He first raped me at eleven years old and I laid there seeing myself fighting but in reality, I could not do anything to stop it from happening. I turned to a corpse and felt like I was dead already. He came in as he normally did since I did not go to his room anymore and he got on top of me, pulled my panties down, held my hands up, and raped me.

I erased these memories repeatedly but the dreams they keep coming so I am trying to erase the experiences in whole. He raped me so many times that I lost count but that didn’t stop him from molesting me. He finally moved out right before I entered 6th grade, to move in with his girlfriend and her 5-year-old daughter in which continued the process. He would come over to visit and still managed to molest me and I could recall a time when my cousins and I were all wrestling and he joined in, and fingered me while holding my buttocks up and no one even noticed (in broad daylight!).

The last time he raped me was when I was thirteen while he and his girlfriend was spending the night because of an issue with their apartment. The girlfriend was asleep on my old pull out couch in the other room and her daughter was asleep in my bed by the door. He came into the room quietly while we all were sleeping and he got on top of me, I felt my body shaking and I woke up from a dream and I opened my eyes and saw him with his eyes closed. I pushed him off me but he fell on top of her daughter I then pushed him all the way off the bed, shaking and crying at the same time because I did not want to remember any of this and it was as if he brought the memories back even through my denial.

I ran to my mother for the second time and I opened her door, and ran to lie in her bed and told her what happened. She said I was dreaming and to go back to sleep, I told her I wasn’t and that he just got off me. She did not want to listen, and didn’t even bother to pay any mind to me but I was persistent. She finally called him in the room and he tried to act as if he just awoke and blamed me for getting back at him for breaking a toy, which was a made up story within itself. My mother believed him and she said oh okay, just making sure.

I heard his girlfriend wake up and she asked what was going on. I wanted to get up and tell her but he lied and told the same story and told her to just go back to sleep. I didn’t think about calling the cops, all I wanted was for someone, my family to help me, and believe me, and to love me, but I didn’t feel