Ballerina: A Novel in Fractals

By Jimmy Esmaeili

Jennifer is a teenage dancer with dreams of becoming a professional ballerina. A severely malnourished teenage girl, she reveals for the first time how she suffered years of sexual, physical, and mental abuse at the hands of her father.

When she was eight years old, she lost her mother. Her childhood almost took her down the same path of self-destruction as her charismatic but predatory father, who molested and abused where when she was only thirteen years old.

Graphic and catastrophic, this novel based on a true story actually happened here in America, and almost nobody knows about it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475935318

Jimmy Esmaeili

Jimmy Esmaeili was born in Iran in 1957; in 1987, he moved to Norway, where he still lives today. He dedicates this book to his mother, who supported him in every endeavor.

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Ballerina Ballerina

A Novel in Fractals

Copyright © 2012 JIMMY ESMAEILI Jimmy Esmaeili

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any

information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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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.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3529-5 (sc)

ISBN: 9781-4759-3530-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3531-8 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912065

iUniverse rev. date: 7/17/2012

CONTENTS

CAN YOU TRUST THE

LAWYERS TODAY?

SILENCE IS NOTHING

EXCEPT UNSAID WORDS

YOU DON’T SLEEP NAKED

UNDER THE OPEN WINDOW,

WHEN OUTSIDE IS SNOWING;

YOU KNOW YOU’LL CATCH COLD

DO YOU BELIEVE IN A BETTER

DAY? DO YOU HAVE FAITH

IN A GOLDEN WAY?

IF THERE IS LOVE, SMALLPOX

SCARS ARE AS PRETTY AS DIMPLES

IT MIGHT BE WORTH IT TO

LEAVE YOUR CHIPS ON THE

TABLE AND WALK AWAY.

THERE IS NOTHING PRIVATE

ABOUT A PUBLIC FIGURE.

A provocative, unflinching and profound account of the murdering, this history deals with the human spirit in crisis and the tenuous connections between life and death. I grew up in a world of drugs and violence. I didn’t stand a chance. This is my story which remarkably, gave vent to my frustration and anger with hair-raising accounts of scrapes with the cops, violence and abuse. This is fine, unsparing story about what addiction does to all the lives it touches. In my childhood almost took me down the same path of self-destruction as my charismatic but predatory father. I peppered my threats with quite a few spiteful, filthy epithets not fit for publication, which sank my opinion of my too sub-animal status. This is pretty graphic catastrophic. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to read it! But this actually happened, here in America, and almost nobody knows about it. Drugs and child-molesting were taking over in everywhere, unable to fight the illegal trade with conventional methods, the police had to assign a group of hard boiled undercover cops who began waging war on the narcotics.

During a long exhilarating live broadcast investigation, a group of homicide detective attempt to solve the mystery surroundings the apparent investigating of a junkie young woman, who was caught up in a miserable situation in a bid to conclusion her life over. Despite the fact that it’s been over many years since her horror filled with molesting by her father and cocaine and drugs.

She was flushing with her money to buy drugs from a drug-dealer, and how he was manipulating her very dexterity to make her life miserable, and kind of a cruel slave trader whose greed for profit leads her to an enormous explosion hallucination of horror with that cocaine. This is the facts that, a young girl like her; no one takes her seriously about why she should giving her life to a crucial addiction then presumably, she would runs off to find her innocently, miserable life by that drug!.

Ray Dillon a drug-dealer who is sent to a jail there he was caught between two rivals gangs, both competing for his membership, Now free on the streets, burning up the young’s preys and send them to a vision of events that conclusion is death. Jennifer is who unfortunate condemned to an immorality of none essentially macabre life.

This is one o’clock in the afternoon. Jennifer is crumpling in herself and waiting in corner of an alley to get the drug. She repeatedly is looking at her watch. She is floating helplessly in the corner of that alley, trapped in one thing that however, far she goes; she cannot escape what she once was. She is stumbling around and at the end of her tether. She is sitting there and keen to rake on the chance of making it to work out. Off course, she’s been leaded her high life by some duffer leaders of drug-dealers. Across the street, there is an old woman with her basket, standing at the bus-stop. Some bastards young desperate trying to get the basket from her, but the old woman with a very dexterity kicked their asses and grasped the basket from them. Jennifer was observing that whole the time which, almost she forgot for a second what she was doing there! A little smile congealed on her lips. A red convertible BMW with three black, curly hairs and pretty athletic which there was bunch of gold necklace hanging around their necks arrived at the place. They parked their car around the block. Ray, the leader of the gangs said to one of his guys: Hey, man. Take this and give it to her. You better go from behind, take the alley and go around. I don’t want she sees you. You got it?

What about money? Don’t worry about it. Just give it to her. Go now, and be careful. Then he got the package and proceeded to alley. He took the way just one block down and soon he returned to the alley and while Jennifer had her face onto the street, the guy very easy got behind and with a low voice said to her: Don’t turn back. Just stay cool. Take this and get the hell out of here Jennifer was scared but, when she saw the white package, took it and fast, she got her way across the street to the park.

Ray Dillon, a Harlem dude who was in the back days, spent his times with his friends shipping school, getting in fights and shop lifting, robbed corner store to earn some respect, that ends up jeopardizing their job as no police suspected on them. Ray feels sorry for Jennifer and more ever he doesn’t want to frame her for the death of her entire life. Jennifer has after a failed attempt to find her life which nearly ended her career into this harsh battling of survive, crushing the times to stand up her feet for day to another. That was small step to a loco destiny however. She looked at herself and then cried. She lost too many weights and her thick lips became dark blue. Too thin that she could even see the veins how they came out of her skins. She was panting and took a deep sigh whole from her throat. She looked at the white stains on her nails. Her face turned to a burnt-spot of sun. She looked at the trees how so romantically in blossom and they bloom the nature. Her heart deeply was faded. People looking at her with a compassion-look and them burst tears crashed in a pity way for her. What a life! She has no choice, but to take her sad monotony of everyday life. One of her friends, a young man who wanted to meet a dealer, there he met him, hooked up, and it turns out to be a violent bank robber. Before he knew it, he became an unwilling partner in a bank robbery and then he’s been shut by a cop and immediately dead for a second. Her friend, Ashley a 19-years-old girl for a package of white she prepares to become suicide praise for those lunatics’ drug-dealers. She signed up for a tough mission and evasion course determined to prove her courage. Jennifer amused by dismissing the facts but, as events unfold, she should realizes she has to take them serious. That humiliation and disgusting world which makes the generations to be unfold in half, then how she remembered her father as an attorney successfully defends an accused killer. His only after proving his client’s innocence by discrediting eye witnesses which the attorney (my father) discovers his client’s guilt, and he intends on killing.

CAN YOU TRUST THE

LAWYERS TODAY?

They said you can’t hide anything from two kinds of people, the lawyers and doctors. But eventually if your case handed into a good lawyer then you will appreciating your freedom as well.

Jennifer is 32-years-old. She used to be a wonderful ballerina and today dying in suspicious circumstances. She feels kind of cold a mysterious and perhaps super natural stranger. Thinking to a portray of those four addicts her friends which showing the direct and indirect effects drugs had no individuals, Harry, her ex-boyfriend and Marion and his longtime friend Tyron who has been killed by a bank robbery.

They were heroin addicts dreaming of making money to get what they needed. Jennifer sat a little while in the park, cried with no tears, smiled with a cold, ice freeze lips. She is thinking, how could would possibly her life turned into this miserable, and immortally situation, and feeling trapped like an overturned vehicle. Who knows, after a failed attempt finally finds a way which has been ended her busy career and tumultuous love living to get over with, turns into a successful ending and back on the track again howsoever?!

She feels as a sadistic suicide who smuggled herself into it. An experienced career drug-dealer was set up by a young upstart gangster and the two self-styled criminal master minds found themselves in a turf battle neither much cares about, and she became innocence pray target for them. Jennifer was the best ballerina and a wonderful artist. She was a counter culture ground-ballet and a remarkable intelligence girl who her morbid appetite for fear was to be an addicted narcotic junkie.

Today is Friday. She is in the shower, sitting in the bath-tub and healing her wounds by putting some ointment salve. She would be so tired that she crawled off to sleep in there. She was been beat up by some other junkies to steal her drugs. She has still those shining blue eyes and long black hair just like the horse-tale hanging on her back. She is suffering from severe agoraphobia since her mother death when she was just only 8-years-old. That was as eventual severe for her.

(When you are crying, the one who likes you comforts you. But the one who loves you cries with you).

I was born in Westchester, NY. When I was 8-years-old, I lost my mother and I should live with my father and step-mother. Life after my mother death became very hard. My father was too mean, and my step-mother by following the family-rolls, she should be unpleasant to me too. That day, when the sun shines through my bedroom’s net-curtains on my face and a cold breeze spring summer made me to jump off of the bed, my feet were looking for the sleepers. For being dragged out of the sack at eight in the morning, I did my best rise and shine. Nobody likes being dragged away from a warm and cozy bed at least, something important. Well, it’s my birthday. I suppose to be happy.

It’s much to be regretted that my mother is not here to celebrate with me. But since my step-mother was too kind and made some cake, it cannot be questioned but that made me much proud of her. Some of my friends that evening were companies to my birthday celebrating. I am 13-years-old today. My step-mother bought me a present but my father, even much busy to his job neither cares once to my birthday howsoever. When I opened my present, I just got shocked that my eyes became so wide that I felt my heart getting to beat so harder than ever. There was a pair of beautiful Ballerina shoes which wrapped with perfumed, color paper. The special about the Ballerina shoes; they are tied with ribbon right around the ankle. The knot is secure on the inside of ankle, and the excess is tucked under the wrapped ribbon behind the ankle bone. Once the moments come, it’s come. When the day you wished time appear to an extra hour to do anything you like with very happiness you got to love it.

She thought of everything. I put them on, and then kind of newborn-birds jumped and with an arithmetic music dancing as a ballerina with too much joy. My friends were staring at me and my step-mother had some tears in her eyes. After the party my friends left the house and wished me a good luck. I went to my room and looked at the shoes with an excited way. I took a glance at the framed picture of my mother on the wall. She was one of the best ballerinas in her entire life. My step-mother with a little coughing knocked on my half-opened door and then entered. She looked at my mother’s picture, and then turned her face towards me and said:

"Jennifer, what would you do if your mother was alive? I’m sure she would make you one of the biggest ballerinas in the world. I heard that she was a great and a genius choreograph. Did you think over to fill her wishes once she was asking for? You see, what I am trying to say? It’s not too difficult. What I could see about your father today and how he possibly wouldn’t be so much of interested to your future, because he faked being a guilty himself and he couldn’t bear to face to his family of the real meaning. That was prosthetic, but I’m going to keep my feet on catwalks and hike over anywhere you go, I promise you.

He killed your soul by not showing to your birthday party. I’m sure, he’s going to live his life so well that he shouldn’t has even answered to himself for his sins. Instead of protecting you, and showing some respect to whatever you needed him to be at the present your party. He made his dignity even more hellish. Don’t think about it. Just keep on doing what needs to be done. He sometimes reminds me my father who couldn’t help himself and as matter fact, he was trying also to block out the reality whatsoever. I never seen your mother when she was alive, but I’m sure she wanted you to keep up your way to be very famous and successful ballerina as well she was. I am coming from a wealthy family. Your father, once he saved my father’s life of a criminal situation. That one was nearly a spot to narrow that he (My father) had to crawl in to get at it. You understand what I’m talking about? That means, my father was drawn in his miserable life once a while. If it weren’t for that coincidence we wouldn’t be together today. Yap, I’m talking about your father and me. You see, he sometimes drives me crazy too, but he is what I was chosen to be lighter state of my mind. I don’t want you, to push back or to put aside your chance because, your father didn’t show up at your birthday party. It’s going to be just manipulating your hate against your own father. I’m here and we made a good party together anyway".

Some weeks passed by, and things getting more complicated by how my father kept back the facts from the family to deflecting a big time suspicion. I couldn’t even ever thought, that was been a secret which he was hiding all along. It would have to be probably he wasn’t been so sure about how life meant to be in his puppet-show game life. In spite of, his perversely unfaithful affair, I am persuaded that, what I see today about him, I doubt whether he would has been having this affair pervert sadistic, since my mother was alive. That day, I should stay home. I had a little stomachache. My step-mother was visiting her sick mother and I was in my room doing some homework. She knew all about it, that’s why she managed the school report and I shouldn’t thinking of anything else. Suddenly I heard some noisy sounds. I thought it could be a burglar. I was panic and scared. I am just 13-years-old. What you expect? This is a big house and I’m alone. I thought I should have called my step-mother and warn her about what is going on here! But I’d rather to loosing up and find out by myself, although, I was so paranoid but anyway, I pasted my ears up the door and listening. I heard a woman’s voice, laughing boisterous that I could feel the whole of the house Shacking. Then I looked through the key-hole, and I saw a naked woman with a long black hair hanged on her back. That was so disgusting, when I saw my father was kissing her on her lips and how terrible locked his hands hardly around her butt and squeezed it to him. You should hear my heart beating. As matter fact, he wouldn’t notify that I was home, and I was afraid he’d found out, that was going to be a hell of situation to me after all.

I barely believing, it could be his everyday routine to betray my mother’s love to him anyway? I took off of my eyes from the key-hole and burst into cry. Was it necessary to be unfaithful and having affair perversely to get others when he had and has so goodhearted woman of love? Such a greedy, penurious mankind he is!

I can’t help me to overcome this trauma. This is a sort of pressured and threatened to my feelings. Who close death to protect the innocent and if I correct in assuming, I also know it was a set up to lure and turned out the things to well-stripped drama staged by him. I bided my time, although, I was drown in the coming flood of pains into my heart and who knows how long I have to along with it. Somehow, I said to myself, why I would stick my neck out for something this risky and keeping track of his affair attempt? I didn’t give a damn what that piece of trash doing with that whore! What it was so annoying me, as matter fact, I intended to accumulate a kind of unconsciousness formed layer by layer in the crucible of his triteness, misinterpretations and slandering to his undisciplined and amorality of his life which he definitely he invoked so often. I didn’t have a lot going for me with just my bare hands, so I was biting my time to get to the living-room and then I found a bottle of wine with some glasses on the table. Suddenly the home-phone rings. I ignored it and while I was running to my room, I saw a naked woman came out of my father’s room. I just stole my eyes off very quickly and kind of a mad dog jumped into my room. She was walking with the footstep rambling and roaming looking for something. I had my eyes on the key-hole. It was so disgusting. I preferred to be kept in my room and waiting for what she is sneaking around there. Beside that wasn’t simply a field personal for me to track her right stepping to my room neither. Then she stands right in front my door and screaming with an attitude of her voice: Where the hell is the bathroom? It’s end of the hall on the left. You won’t miss it. So hurry up, you bitch. It took some hours, then I heard the noisy voices again, it seemed they were bending to leave the house.

Considering the result the untested truth, spun by different interests, continue to churn and accumulate to the end box of family intention and correctness and value of the cost. everyone withdraws into their own small gated community afraid of a large forum. They stay inside their little pawns, licking whatever truth sweeps them into gold in cesspool of society at the large. No one is invalidated, but nobody is right. Not even natural selection can take place here.

That evening, my step-mother came back home and we were all sitting by the table and eating the dinner. I was looking weird at my father. I thought I was qualified to decide what necessary or not. She couldn’t have overlooked the fact that I would be involved into this fatal affair perverted situation of what is going on! Sometimes, just look at the strange juxtaposition of morality around you, the rights of criminals are given more respect that the privacy of their victims. Although there are people suffering in poverty, huge donations are made to protect endangered species, and so, what about this malicious hawk who sitting whole tight next to my step-mother?! Who else could make through to see this garbage who floating in his perverted sex money life? Everyone grows up being told the same thing just beat out the competition.

But it is obvious from the start that only a few can succeed. All rhetoric to avoid conflict and protect each other from hurt. What we propose to do is not to control content, but to create context. Avoiding the truth the under the guise of kindness is all that I did, it occurred to me to do nothing but look out for myself.

Even what I was trying to claim that it was for her (step-mother) sake that her feelings were nowhere to be seen, in the end everything was for my sake I was never part of picture.

So, you see, we are the protect representatives of the massive we need to protect. I could accept that fiction that we’ve provided; obey our orders to the family, no mutual gain, and who else they would toss an analyst into the mix at the last minute. I personally reinvented myself to suit my tastes, my hair style, clothes, the way I move, things I talked about. There is not a whole lot of different between that I was given to understand.

Then my father with a very soft and sweet voice said to her: So, how is going with your mother? Is she getting better? he smiled and said. Well, she is much better and I believe she has an operation to go. I hope everything going to be fine (Her eyes filled with tears).

She turned her face to me while my father had her in his arms and comforting her with that funny, frowzy and fake compassion. What a deception? Perhaps for his own protection! That’s all he is to it. Are we really a non-profit organization of civilians, advocating a cause, or do we have Responsibility to keep track of the mistakes by anyone who made them as a species and the end of it to fight