Bursting Free

By Ronell Groenewald

Courtrai Hamilton was born with a deformation, her one leg is visibly shorter than
the other. Her mother openly loathes and mocks her. As if that wasn’t enough to deal
with, Courtrai has to face her mother’s molesting boyfriend, Glitz. A relationship
which transpired out of her mothers’ insecurities and so-called inability to take care
of them financially. Courtrai has one trusting friend she knows she can confide in,
but the shame of the abuse, keeps her from disclosing all of the information to her
neighbouring best friend, Billy. Would she really have the heart to reveal all of her
darkest secrets to Billy? And would she be able to escape from the grasping claws
of her abuser?

There is a considerable amount of guidance from her dreams, urging her to move
towards sanity and freedom. Just as Courtrai decides to deal with her situation, and
when she thinks all has been lost and although it feels as if she would never be able
to move on – she receives a letter written by her grandmother, a woman she never
knew. Courtrai’s life changes drastically. What once was dull and gloomy changes
into radiance of light and hope, as Courtrai embarks on a journey to meet the family
of her deceased father, a family she thought had long forgotten her existence, life
magnificently starts to unfold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronell Groenewald
• Release date: Jan 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9780620592451

Ronell Groenewald

I started writing from a very early age. My love for writing was actually inspired by my love for reading. I love reading and I remember my walks with my daddy, as we sauntered off to the nearest library for our weekly dose of fun between the pages.Plainly, I read because I saw my dad read. I am passionate about reading and always encourage my children to read, I believe reading is what makes one grow. My love for reading developed into a love for writing. As I my character developed through the years, I found it interesting to know how words are shaped and used in a sentence, I wanted to form the magical world of writing, for myself – and I did.I found that in writing, one can create most anything. I love imagination, I love putting it down on paper, and that makes me write from the core of my being.We live in a very beautiful city, down here in Cape Town. During the summer season, our beaches are packed and everyone who is anyone gets out to the beach to grab a piece of the sun. In autumn our wind picks up and we are called the city of Storms! Nevertheless, we love our city, windy or not.The heart of Cape Town is rich and warm, and you can feel it in the emotion and presence of good people who often walk the streets, I love walking in the city, you get to meet so many people of different backgrounds and culture.My favourite holiday destination is The Bahamas, although I’ve never been there, I am envisioning myself to be there shortly. I love playing with my children, and through playing with them, I get to know them. I encourage all parents to spend time with their children – children are the Kingdom of Heaven, and it is true!I love seeing children happy, and I love entertaining them, therefore my children have inspired me to write a series of children’s books.You can find me on Twitter @RonnyG1122Like my facebook fanpage: www.facebook.com/burstingfreergDrop me an email: [e-mail] look forward to hearing from you,Until next time and see you soon.Love, Light and Peace.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

To my darling husband Donovan, wonderful children Diego and Caleb – you guys are the centre of my heart. I love you! Thank you for being the invisible inspiration of love and courage that you always are. The world is better, because you’re in it.

To my dearest friend, Shireen B, thank you for always being a pillar of strength. Thank you for always listening, and giving advice. Thank you for just being you!

To my wonderful editor Anne C Pipe. Thank you for your invaluable advice and support.

Introduction

Welcome! To my very first published book. Yes, I have written some unpublished titles but this is not my first works. I am working and polishing the ones previously written.

I have chosen this book to be my first release, because in many aspects of my life, like you, I have experienced challenges. I chose this book to be the embodiment of my freedom. I hope and pray that you find yours too.

I love fiction, and I love writing, therefore I created a character to inspire you and help you on your journey.

In Life we are our own directors of music. We write the lyrics of our lives, sing our own melody and orchestrate our own unique flow of life. No one can write your symphony, only you can. Now listen to what you haven’t been hearing… and smile!

R Y Groenewald

Chapter 1

Courtrai sits at the table, spoon in hand, watching her mother as she dresses for work. She can see straight into her mother’s bedroom from where she sits at the kitchen table. She watches as her mother pulls up her fishnet stockings, clipping them to the garter underneath her dress. The dress she picked for tonight was beautiful, but Beatrice still looked sloppy. She was not the skinniest of women, and the protruding bulge of her overlapping stomach was not appealing.

The apartment was a small, cramped mess. The walls were cracked and the wallpaper was peeling in certain areas of the apartment. Beatrice wasn’t much of a maid either. Courtrai frowned at the burnt baked beans she had just swallowed which her mother had sautéed straight from the tin.

If you don’t like the way I cook, then stay hungry! Beatrice snarled from the bedroom. She appeared in the doorway, cigarette smoke billowing from her mouth and nostrils. For a moment, she looked like a dragon, and Courtrai could swear she was permanently breathing fire. She leaned against the doorframe. You had better show more respect and gratitude around here. Glitz works hard to put food in your mouth, she said, cigarette halfway hanging over her lips.

She was forced to take out the intoxicating stick from her mouth and allowed herself a brief moment to cough and wheeze—a nasty cough she just couldn’t get rid of. Her lipstick smudged, caused by the grip between her lips and the cigarette.

Of course, mother, Courtrai agrees unwillingly. She dislikes her mother and knows better than to look at her right now, so she lowers her gaze and concentrates on the plate in front of her.

Beatrice walked up to the table. You think you know better than all of us, don’t you? she said, grasping the cigarette between forefinger and thumb. Courtrai did not dare answer. She refrained from looking up. Well I’ve got news for you missy… She took another puff and held the cigarette again, bending down close enough so Courtrai could feel her breath on her cheek. It won’t be long before you’re just like me… she whispered in her ear, blowing the remaining smoke which she held in her mouth into her daughter’s face.

Courtrai held her breath, shaking her head, waiting for the smoke to evaporate. She placed the spoon down onto her plate, a spark of self-preservation coming in quickly in to defend herself. I’m sorry, mother, but I will never be like you… she said, head coming up halfway. Beatrice forced a laugh.

That’s your biggest mistake right there. You think you’re better than me. Don’t you? she said, crossing her arms, cigarette still clasped. Her finger nails were extremely long, deliberately painted blood-red. She taps her feet repeatedly on the wooden floor. The beats were unconsciously out of rhythm. Courtrai could see her mother’s hand stretch out in front of her and watches as she kills her cigarette in the leftover food. She knew something bad was going to happen. Her breathing quickened.

She squealed as she felt the force of her mothers’ hand behind her head as she pushed Courtrai’s head downward and onto the plate. Her words are muffled by beans poked into her nostrils. She could feel the heat of the cigarette stub on her forehead. Her arms come up and she pushes hard down onto the table, trying to ease her mother’s grip. She feels smothered and uses all of her strength to push up on her feet, beans sticking to her face. She uses her hands to brush the mess from her face and chest. She moves sideways, away from her mother, towards the other end of the table. Not a word escapes her. Heartbeat resounding in her ears.

She moves away from the edge of the table, steadily holding her balance. She thinks before walking, one foot in front of the other, black steel braces supporting her limp, fragile legs. She walks with great effort, and it takes immense physical strength to move away from her perpetrator. The braces hug her legs awkwardly, painfully, something she has learnt to live with. As she places her one foot down in front of the other, the impact makes her hip shoot up, almost into a pointed position.

Courtrai was born with thin, pale legs, one visibly shorter than the other, a freak of nature, as her mother calls her. The tone of her unruly, dark orange-coloured hair blended with her creamy complexion, the only thing that reminded her that she was still her mother’s daughter.

Look at you now… Beatrice smirked, not so clever, are you? She watched her daughter as she moved away from her. Cripple! she mocked. I should have killed you at birth! she yelled.

Courtrai makes it safely to the miniature bathroom, her grey pullover saturated in the sauce of the beans. She pulls the jersey over her head and washes the remaining mess from her face and chest. She tries to steady her quivering hands, looking at herself in the mirror, forehead burned from the heat of the cigarette. She rubs a finger over it, it stings. Moisture gathers in her eyes. She should be used to this by now, but she cannot help but feel emotion towards her mother’s ill treatment of her. She wishes things were different. She desires a better life. She curses her disability and wonders why her mother hates her so much.

She squeezes the water from the facecloth and wipes it across her face one last time before she soaks her jersey in soapy water. Her attention was drawn to the footsteps reverberating on the wooden floor. She could tell it wasn’t Glitz’s. The pitch in the male voice was somewhat deeper. She listened attentively, leaning softly against the door, heart throbbing in her throat. She could hear them converse. There was an exchange of some sort of merchandise; anxiety was present in her mother’s voice and then a piercingly loud, nervous laugh escapes her.

The voices toned down and she could hear them move to her mother’s room.

Don’t worry…Glitz won’t be here for another hour, she tried to convince her buyer. I normally don’t take calls at home. The tone in her voice definitely suggested that she was anxious, somewhat panicky.

Courtrai moved quietly to her room. On her way, she caught a glimpse of their images in the mirror of the dressing table and she paused briefly. Mother was exchanging her body for whatever she felt she required. The lover spotted her and quickly she moves past the door. Courtrai knew better and turned a blind eye, closing her room door behind her.

She found her nightdress at the foot of her bed and comfortably slipped into it. She stumbled onto her bed in the darkness without turning on her light. Her mother was very specific about the usage of the electricity. So she lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling.

The noise coming from the room was overwhelming; she could swear it felt as though they were in her room with her, the walls were so thin. The bed banged against the wall and for the first time she knew her mother was more than just an exotic dancer. She never wanted to believe the rumours at school, but now she was forced to. She draws the pillow over her head, wishing she could scream at them, wishing she wasn’t in the apartment with them.

The front door slammed close, and the gust of wind that whirled in with the person entering surged through the rest of the apartment. The breeze swept in from underneath her door. The familiar footsteps resounding on the wooden floor and the dreadful smell of black grease soon followed. Glitz was home, earlier than expected, and she could smell him even if he was ten thousand miles away.

Courtrai shivered, nervous tension churning in her stomach, she knew what was about to take place. She could hear footsteps rushing around from the room next door, it sounded as though they were falling over their feet. She could hear her mother whispering, but she couldn’t make out what she was saying. She heard the window flying open as it banged against the wall and then bounced back in the frame with force. Glitz entered into the room. He must have caught just a glimpse of the man exiting through the window.

Who the fuck is that? he yelled at the top of his voice.

She could hear her mother walking about the room, No one, honey, he just forgot something…

So he fucking left through the bedroom window? There was silence for a brief moment. And you’re struggling to find your stockings? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?

Courtrai rose from her bed and walked over to her door, opening it slowly, just nearly enough for her to peep through. Her mother rushed out the door and into the kitchen.

I made supper for you, honey, baked tomato beans, just the way you like it, she said, pressing the timer on the microwave. The plate started whirling in circles.

"Fuck your tomato beans! Are you fucking strange men in my bed?" Glitz was fuming with anger. He covered the distance between himself and Beatrice. Courtrai could see that he was still wearing his overalls, greasy as ever. Glitz worked a hard twelve-hour day. He also worked hard in trying to make the relationship with her mother work.

No, baby…you know me… Beatrice pleaded, I would never do a thing like that, she said, trying to reach out to him. He slapped her hand down in mid-air.

Bitch, you’re fucking lying to me, in my face! he screamed, How stupid do you think I am?

Courtrai knew she shouldn’t even think of interfering. Glitz was close to her mother now; he was at arm’s length. Beatrice was trying to soothe him, but she was insulting his intelligence. Before she knew it, she was holding onto the edge of the table for balance as his right hand came up to strike her hard across her left cheek.

Baby, please… she begged.

Glitz turned away, distracted by the bleeping of the microwave. The food was ready. He opens the microwave door and pulls the plate out, taking a seat at the table. You know better… he said, taking in a spoonful of the food. It took him a while to chew, his face changed, eyes narrowed. He swallowed hard.

You expect me to eat this? You burnt my food?

Beatrice was quick on her feet.

It’s not burnt, honey; it’s the new spices I was trying, she lied, her insides quivering nervously. She straightened her dress, brushed her hair back with one hand and pretended that the event did not take place. She lost one of her shoes and found it on the other side of the table. She slips it on again.

It tastes fucking weird, he said, taking another mouthful. He chewed, moving his head from side to side, allowing the flavour to sink into his taste-buds. I guess it’s not bad. He tried to convince himself and swallowed hard.

It isn’t, sweet pea, she said coming up behind him. It has a sweet after-taste. Did you have a tough day? she asked, stretching out her hands over his shoulders, Gosh, you’re so tense, she was massaging the soft padding of his masculine shoulders. His dark hair fell forward as he surrenders to her touch. A soft groan escapes him, an indication that he was enjoying what she was doing. Leaning forward, she plants a peck on his cheek. He reaches back to stroke her hand with one of his.

You are the best, he said, throwing his head back, forgetting he was hungry.

They exchange a kiss which repulses Courtrai and she moves back to her bed, quietly. She must have fallen asleep. The apartment was quiet. She could only hear the television playing softly. Her mother must have left for work and she knew she wouldn’t see her till morning, that is, if she was not too tired from the night out. Courtrai usually prepared her own breakfast and she could move herself around the apartment very easily. She was tired and she needed to rest. Tomorrow was school and she was looking forward to getting away from the apartment.

She pushes up on her elbows and just then her bedroom door creaks. The light from the kitchen falls onto the floor in her room. She falls back onto her pillow, pretending to be undisturbed. It was Glitz, checking up on her. She didn’t want him to come any closer than he already was. He was standing at the foot of her bed. He must be barefoot as she hardly heard him move closer, yet he was already next to her bed. She wished him away. But he didn’t move.

He reached out to touch her leg. Her eyes shot open.

It’s okay, I can do it myself, she said, brushing his hand away. He was trying to release her steel brace for her, but she wouldn’t let him. She was always tussling.

She caught him smiling and wondered what he was thinking. He ignored her protest and helped her slacken off the tight braces from around her legs. There was relief from the pressure of the bars that had been on her legs all day. He rubbed her legs for her, gently. Slowly he moves, to his own rhythm.

She quivers, still not used to his touch. His hand moves slowly across her leg and up her nightdress. He stops in time. His touch is soft, but his skin is hard and coarse because he works so hard with his hands. Her heart leaps to her throat. Nervous tension churns in her stomach. She feels nauseous.

She knows why he is there. She knows what he wants. She panics as always. His voice is soft and sweet, a gentle whisper. He soothes her. His hand comes up to stroke her chest as if he is comforting an infant. He hopes she shows him little or no resistance. All he can think of is what he can get from her this very moment. Her defiance is not what he needs. He was exhausted, stressed out from work, the financial situation at home was adding to his worries. The last thing he needed was rejection from her.

He crouches down next to her, a greasy lock of hair flopping onto his forehead. He brushes it away, anxiously, fingers itching to touch her body. He wishes he could cut right to the chase, but he knew better, he had to make her relax. Courtrai couldn’t relax, not ever. She could never get used to him. He is her mother’s boyfriend. She has no choice. She knows no better. She sighs deeply and places her arm across her forehead, as if to cover her eyes. She was glad it was semi-dark in the room; at least she didn’t have to look at him.

At this stage in his life, he was not very confident. He had no self-esteem, an emotional addict. And he had been feeling as though there wouldn’t be another woman who would even give him a second glance—maybe because of the amount of weight he’d put on in the last couple of years. He felt as though there wouldn’t be another woman for him – and he was doubtful that the relationship with Beatrice would last. He knew part of the reason she was staying was because he could take care of her financially.

Courtrai didn’t dare look at him. He had bathed and she could smell the mixture of perfumed soap and grease. It was infused into his skin, the grease had become a part of his tissue. This is why she knows his scent so well; he has spent hours close to her, next to her.

He climbs into the bed and pulls the covers over them. He buries his nose in her lovely, fragrant hair. She hates it when he does that. He loves the smell of her hair. He loves her. He is in love, with her. He holds her gently and reels her in closer to him, slowly, indirectly commanding her to respond to him. He hates his women cold. Courtrai wasn’t showing any of that. How could he expect anything more from her?

She could feel the heat of his body next to her. He was too close. It is not long before he begins to perspire. He wants her, needs her. His emotions rise. She pushes him away, elbow buried in his side.

Don’t… he whispers, don’t… not tonight. His hand comes up to pull her arm up and around his shoulder. He moves even closer. His body is heavy next to hers. She hates him this close to her. She wishes she could scream. She wants to scream. She wants to do vicious things to him. She knows he’ll crush her in an instant. She was defenceless against him. Even if she tried fighting, she always ended up losing.

She slips away in surrender. She remembers there was a storybook her father used to read from. She tries probing her memory, but it returned blank. Maybe