Damaged: When Home Is No Longer a Safe Place....

By Tenika L. Porter

After the death of her young son, Karen has learned to put on a tough skin when it comes to her other children. She makes sure that they are fed, clean, and safe. However, when her twelve-year-old daughter, Keisha, starts to rebel, Karen tries to be understanding but Keisha's behavior goes from bad to worse. Karen begins to lose patience with her daughter, and they begin to grow apart. But when relationships are tested, boundaries are crossed, and family secrets are revealed, Karen discovers that the home she thought was a safe haven for her children was only filled with damages...

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456717827

Tenika L. Porter

Tenika Porter has been an avid reader from the time she was a child and still loves to read today. Stories about family relationships are her favorite topics to read about. When she is not reading, she enjoys writing, painting, and drawing. She currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri. Damaged is her first novel.

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© 2011 Tenika L. Porter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/22/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1782-7 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1781-0 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011900059

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Epilogue

First, I would like to that God for blessing me with the gifts of artistic and creative capabilities. Being able to express myself through such mediums is something that I do not take for granted. Thank you to my mother, Trina Porter, for being my inspiration in the many things that I do. I love you so much and I am as proud of you as you are of me. To my brothers: Herman Porter, Jerry Porter, & Maurice Wallace - thank you for being my protectors over the years and still today. You guys are always there when I need you and I love & appreciate all three of you so very much (I no longer wish you were sisters LOL). To my family, thank you for always believing in me and my talents and for encouraging me to get out there. Special thanks to my big cousin, Ceista, thank you for introducing me to Tory. This may not have happened without your support. I love you. Tory, you’re awesome and thank you for answering all of my questions! To Dr. Jacqueline Hayes, thank you so much for your medical insight, I am truly grateful. And last but definitely not least, thank you to my nieces and nephews (and I must list their names LOL): Jahara, Jerry Jr., Herman Jr., Jaden, Jada, Brandon, Jazmine, & Elijah. Thank you guys for always bringing sunshine into my life, auntie loves you so much, and always, always, always remember to keep positive people in your lives and to always follow your dreams.

For mothers and daughters

1

Karen Riley was about to doze off when the door to her bedroom eased opened and the light from the hallway beamed on her face. She wished her daughter would just come into the bedroom instead of trying to figure out if she was awake or not. It was almost eleven-thirty on a school night and Keisha should have been sleep two hours ago. Karen wasn’t surprised though, she had become accustomed to her daughter’s nightly visits. At first, she was a little surprised that her almost teenage daughter wanted to sleep in her bed, but she didn’t mind. It was the only real moment that she had a chance to spend time with her only daughter. Keisha was at that age where she wanted to do her own thing, and often trying to dress as if she had the body of a twenty-one year old although she wasn’t filling out or into anything. Karen was only half ready to deal with all the changes Keisha was going through. She tried to understand though, remembering how it was for her as a young girl. Girls needed their space and Keisha took advantage of it. She hardly spent time with the family, just wanted to stay off to herself. At times, Karen had to make the girl come out of her bedroom but Keisha would be so miserable that Karen allowed her to go back.

Did you have another nightmare, sweetie? she asked her twelve-year-old.

Yeah, muttered Keisha, settling in under the warm comforter.

Do you want to talk about it? asked Karen. Four nights of this was a record, she wondered if Keisha and her friends sneaked into another scary movie. She had only found out about the last one because the ticket handler had caught them.

No, I don’t really feel like talking, she said, turning her back toward her mother. Karen planted a kiss on her cheek, then she affectionately wrapped her arm around her daughter. Keisha inched closer into the embrace. Karen appreciated moments like this with her young daughter, especially now since they were so hard to come by. If it was up to her, she’d hold on to her daughter forever, not wanting her to grow up.

Well, at least tell me which movie—

I told you, Mommy, I don’t feel like talking ok, she said, breaking their cuddle. Karen lay back on her pillow and stared into the darkness; she was too tired to chastise Keisha about her sassiness. Scary movie or no scary movie Keisha better learn to change that attitude, she thought before drifting off into a deep sleep.

Karen hit the snooze button on her bedside alarm. Where had the time gone? She reached over to wake Keisha but the girl was already pulling herself out of bed. Good, less hassle for her.

Keisha, wake Devin for me, ok.

Ok. Karen slipped out of bed and unsteadily made her way to the bathroom to shower. Her scrubs hung neatly on a hanger insider her closet. She was grateful her boyfriend, Jeremy, took the liberty of ironing them the day before. Jeremy came into their lives four years ago. Karen was shopping at Wal-Mart and had unconsciously picked up more items than she was prepared to buy. The merchandise had fallen out of her arms as she made her way to the check out line. Courteous, he ran to her aid with a small basket in his hand and helped her with her items. Before then, she was a single parent of two and had planned on staying that way until he came along.

Good morning, my dear son, said Karen as she studied the photo of her deceased son, David Jr. It sat at an angle on her nightstand. It was the only professional portrait she had of her then one year old. Mommy loves you, baby, she said, bringing the photo to her lips and planting a kiss right on the baby’s forehead. She carefully placed it back in its original position then peeked inside the crib at her 5-month-old baby boy, Jeremiah. The baby was still sleeping, thank God. Satisfied, Karen made her way to the kitchen to make breakfast. It wouldn’t be long before the aroma brought in her young son. The kids were used to having cereal before going to school but every now and then she sent them off with a hot meal in their stomachs. Karen scooped four golden brown pancakes off the hot plate and placed them in pairs on two white plates.

She smiled at Devin, who appeared eager to eat. He wore the khaki shorts and navy blue polo shirt that he’d picked out the night before. He let his Spiderman backpack drop to the floor before reaching for the plate of bacon.

Devin, are your hands clean? Karen asked her six-year-old. He stuffed the bacon into his mouth and held his hands in front of his round face.

I don’t see any dirt, Mommy, he said, still crunching on the bacon.

Just because you don’t see the dirt, doesn’t mean it’s not there Devin, now go in the bathroom and wash your hands and tell Keisha to come eat. Before she could warn the boy not to run off, he was already out of sight. Karen sighed. She would make a mental note to get on him later about his running in the house.

Karen fixed their plates with a little of everything and began eating without them. Time was ticking and the kids needed to be at their bus stop on time. She would be late for work again if she had to drive them.

Devin stood at the kitchen table glaring at the breakfast platters. Both plates had the same things on them, so Karen figured he must have been comparing the size of the pancakes. She grinned at the boy, wondering how someone so tiny could have an appetite of a grown man.

She took a sip of her coffee. Where’s your sister?

She said she’s not hungry, he said, his face full of concentration as he cut into the pancakes with the butter knife. She dropped another teaspoon of sugar into her coffee, and called out to her daughter.

What? Keisha hollered, testing her mother’s patience. She widened her eyes at Keisha’s tone. Why did her daughter feel like she could challenge her? One thing Karen did not tolerate was the disrespectful back talk from her children and she hadn’t forgotten about Keisha’s sassiness last night.

Get your ass in here, that’s what, yelled Karen. Keisha dragged herself into the kitchen. Her hair pulled back into such a tight ponytail that her eyes slanted. Karen cut her eyes at Keisha’s posture. This was clearly not the same girl who appeared so vulnerable last night. She stared at her daughter, who stared back at her. Devin stuffed another pancake square into his mouth as he watched the interaction between the two.

I’m not hungry, said Keisha, her arms folded across her small chest.

Well you better pretend because this food is not going to waste, now get your butt in a seat and start eating, she said, wiping her mouth on the flower printed napkin. Keisha mumbled under her breath and reluctantly took the seat next to her brother. She rolled her eyes up and jammed her fork into