I Wish I Would've

By Aynoit Ashor

A lifetime of familial craziness boils over when she goes on a quest to uncover the truth. On a trip to visit her G-Pa she quickly discovers her childhood memories are not warm and fuzzy. Now she's living a life darker than anyone's most horrific nightmare. Will her mom save her from her new life in human trafficking?
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"Human traffickers lure and ensnare individuals into labor trafficking and sex trafficking situations using methods of control such as force, fraud, or coercion. There is no one profile of a trafficker. Essentially, human traffickers can be anyone who is willing to exploit another human being for profit." (Source: PolarisProject.org, The Traffickers)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aynoit Ashor
• Release date: Mar 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781310251146

Aynoit Ashor

Aynoit Ashor's personal mission is to empower others to love the life they live  and encourage survivors of interpersonal violence (abuse) to take back power and no longer be victims. Aynoit has worked diligently to expose and increase awareness about the horrors of intimate partner abuse and sexual violence/abuse with her stories, speaking engagements, interviews and appearances. Personal challenges Aynoit has faced are homelessness, domestic and sexual abuse.  Facing these issues sparked a fire in Aynoit and, because of this spark, the Family Secrets series was born.  This series of novellas uncovers issues many would like to ignore or sweep under the rug. Aynoit uses her personal life experiences during her speaking engagements and workshops. Her presentations give a glimpse into her life as survivor of molestation, rape and domestic abuse while leaving the audience, no matter their background, feeling empowered and hopeful. "I had to learn to forgive, not forget. I used to do it the other way around. Once I finally figured it out, I understood what I needed to do to thrive and be happy." ~Aynoit Ashor

Book preview

Aynoit Ashor Presents.....

I Wish I Would’ve

A Novella

I Wish I Would’ve is a work of fiction.

© 2009 by Aynoit Ashor

All rights reserved.

Published by Mocha Girl Publishing

Chester, VA

Contents and/or covers may not be used in whole or in part in any form without the express written consent of the publisher.

A note from Aynoit:

AS YOU READ THIS STORY, you will notice a few things. There are not many characters that have names and most of the places/settings have vague descriptions. Many people have asked, Why didn’t you name anyone? Why weren’t you more descriptive? My answer is this: When you read this story, I want you to see your nieces, daughters, cousins, friends and neighbors.

This story was written for mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, aunts and nieces, uncles and nephews. This story was written for you. It was written to open your eyes and your heart.

Who comes to your mind while reading this story? Who do you think about when you read this family secret?

I hope you enjoy this story and yes, I hope it makes you feel a little uneasy, that lets me know that I did what I set out to do. What’s that you ask? I wanted to make you think of your life and your own family secrets.

The beginning

IT’S TWILIGHT. I LOVE the stars, and I can see them so clearly right now. The big dipper, the Milky Way. It’s so amazing to look back on your life and remember how things began. You see how far you have come and think about things you may have done differently. I can honestly say, I don’t think I would have done anything any different. It is interesting to see that everything really does happen for a reason.

SHE ALWAYS TRIED TO keep me away from him, and I never knew or understood why. There were times when Mom would sit at the kitchen table with bills in one hand and a check from G-Pa in the other. No matter how rough things were, she never accepted his money. So one day, when I was around thirteen, Mom was at the kitchen table crunching numbers, and ripping up another check from G-Pa, I hesitantly asked, Mom? Why won't you let me see G-Pa? And why don't you take his help?

Your grandfather is the devil in disguise, she told me, he's a demon who tries to hide behind the name of the Lord.

I don’t understand why you always say mean things about him? What'd G-Pa do that was so wrong? She never responded when I asked these types of questions. She would just walk away in anger and hurt flashing in her eyes.

G-Pa was always so good to me, so I knew she couldn’t be talking about the grandfather I loved so much. He was a good man and was a deacon at the church. All my life I was taught that God was good and a church is God’s house. So, there was no way deacons could be demons, they help teach God's word. Call me lost and confused if you want, but it didn’t make sense to me. He and Granny, who everyone said I was the spitting image of, were at church every day for some type of activity. How could she call a man like that the devil?

G-Pa towered over almost everyone and had a slim but muscular build. His touch was so soft, comforting and gentle. G-Pa was the type of man who was always nicely dressed. He wore stylish suits and white crisp shirts. He went to the cleaners at least two times a week, and the ladies who worked there loved him. They would always giggle and smile when he walked through the door. The ladies would croon over his dark skin and his thick, wavy hair. They would call out after him as he left the shop, their smiles blazing and eyelashes batting, Oh deacon, you smell so nice and your suit is sharp! I didn’t know why they said he smelled nice. I always thought his cologne smelled like a mixture of a musky type of after shave and pine needles. When he replied to the ladies in his soft, masculine voice, they would shiver with excitement.

I can remember his soft, hypnotic voice whispering to me as a child, Now go ahead and do what G-Pa is asking, and all will be okay.

I never heard him yell at anyone, not even my mean, nasty, triflin’ grandmother. She was the one who was just straight-up demonic.

Granny sang in the church choir and I don’t know why they picked her. I always thought she sounded like an old cat sitting on a fence screaming in heat. She would get up in the choir stand wearing her purple and gold robe, and sing, move and sway with the other choir members. She would sing about how good the Lord is and how when she died she wanted to go to heaven. Once we got home, she would scream at G-Pa, You're a dirty bastard! I hope you rot in hell! forgetting what she sang about in church earlier that day.

The Sundays Granny didn’t sing in the choir, she would wear a white long sleeved shirt with a lace collar, long white gloves and a black skirt down to her calves, as she performed her duties as an usher. I always hated those white usher gloves because when I dozed off in church, Granny would slap me awake with her white-gloved, right hand as she walked up the aisle. That always made me angry because during the day while she was babysitting me, she would always fall asleep after taking her medicine and I was never able wake her up.

Whap! Girl, you wake up this instant! she would whisper through her clenched teeth. You are in the Lord's house and you better wake up and hear His word. Her eyes would narrow, it’s bad enough you’re a devil seed. Only the Word of the Lord will save you. So you better wake up! I didn't understand what she meant when she called me devil seed because I was a good girl, and the devil was bad. I did everything she and all of the other adults asked me to do. The first time I remember her calling me devil seed I was about four.

Mom had me when she was sixteen, so Granny kept me during the day while she was at school. Granny would make me sit on my hands, on the floor of my closet, and would burn