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My Affair
My Affair
My Affair
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My Affair

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Witnessing her mother being abused as a child is forced to deal with the struggle of following in her mothers foot steps as a young teen. Lisa is young, beautiful and confused about hearing the news that she too will become a mother. Though trail and tribulations of her emotional roller coaster called her life meets a man. He helps her see that all men are not evil. A few months of a steamy love affair may just save her life.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateMar 29, 2012
ISBN9781469189079
My Affair

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    Book preview

    My Affair - Bella Rose

    Copyright © 2012 by Bella Rose.

    Edited by S. Kathleen Tyner

    ISBN:          Softcover                     978-1-4691-8906-2

                       Ebook                         978-1-4691-8907-9

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    To order additional copies of this book, contact:

    Xlibris Corporation

    1-888-795-4274

    www.Xlibris.com

    Orders@Xlibris.com

    110643

    Contents

    Chapter 1

    The Beginning

    Chapter 2

    Turning a New Leaf

    Chapter 3

    You drive me crazy

    Chapter 4

    The Beating

    Chapter 5

    Monday

    Chapter 6

    Rebuilding Myself

    Chapter 7

    My hope for a New Life

    Chapter 1

    The Beginning

    I’m not the type of person that believes in the fairytale life. I was more or less a mistake that happened to my mother when she was sixteen. I wanted to be in love, like in the movies. You know, the love that will last through anything or anyone. I could only dream of a man who would ride up on a white horse and save me, like in Cinderella. From what? I’m not sure . . . maybe from my mom and dad fighting all the time or maybe even from myself.

    My family never stayed in one place when I was younger. We were always moving around. We were poor, living paycheck to paycheck, and I didn’t grow up with a lot of stuff the other kids did. My mom was hardly ever home because she was working two jobs to support her four kids. A place that I could call home meant more to me than anything you could buy in a store.

    My mistake was thinking I had that with Joe. Joe and I were high school lovers. We met at the martial arts school where we both took classes. When I started, he was already a red belt and I thought he was a total bad ass which, of course, is ever teenage girl’s dream. To rebel against all the rules that your mother gave you is something most teenagers do or at least think about doing. Everything was great between us; we were two high school sweethearts who were in love. At least, that is what I thought. Then Joe decided to put his hands on me for the first time.

    My mom was married to a man who beat her on daily basis and it always upset me when I heard my mother beg my stepfather to leave her alone, for fear the kids would hear. When Joe hit me for the first time, I walked away. I was confused about what was actually happening to me. I knew it was wrong and I was in shock, to say the least. While I was upset, I wasn’t crying. It’s weird because I thought that I would. I guess in some way I expected it to happen. When he chased after me, I told him to leave me alone. Pushing me up against a fence on the street, he began shaking me and telling me he was sorry. It was something I seen often at home and I didn’t know what to do. My mom fought back half the time but the other half she just gave up. I drew a blank. I didn’t know if I should fight back or not. Then a cop showed up and made Joe leave. He took me home.

    When I came in, I walked right passed my mom. I wanted to tell her what has just happened to me, to ask her advice and get comfort from her. Instead I kept walking. We just didn’t have that open dialogue a mother and daughter should have and I didn’t think she would even care.

    Being happy meant the world to me and somehow, that made me the fucked up one in my family. I wanted someone, like a parent, to take me in and show me what a family was supposed to be like. You know, a real family. One who cared about me. Not the family that wouldn’t love me because I didn’t do what they wanted. I was a simple girl with simple wants. All I wanted was someone to love me for me.

    At school the next day, I tried to avoid Joe but I wasn’t that lucky. Everyone and their mommy kept telling me that Joe was looking for me. He finally caught up with me and he apologized for what had happened.

    I will never do it again Joe said. These are the words that I would come to hear many times over.

    I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? That was my next mistake. Thinking any man who hit you could ever be sorry.

    He was sweet, following that incident. He gave me flowers that day with a card that said To my love you are the only person for me. Please forgive me for my actions the other night that will never happen again. It was uncalled for. Please forgive me.

    At fifteen year old, it was the sweetest thing that I had ever heard from a man. But I bet my mother heard those same words too. They were words that I would grow to hate, with a passion. Joe and I seemed to understand each other after that. I was not going to let him treat me the way my stepdad treated my mother. At least, that is what I thought anyway. I was always very out spoken when I didn’t agree with something.

    Joe knew what was going on at my house, which made what he did to me even worse. I had poured my heart out to him and he didn’t even care. One of my biggest fears was coming home seeing my mother dead alongside my little sister and brother and he later used them against me to do what he wanted. He would say the most awful things to me about my sister and brother, who were five and eight years old at the time and even threatened my elderly grandparents. At one point, he went so far as to send me pictures of my brother and sister walking out of school, with two guys that he knew following them. Joe told me that one of them liked little girls and the other had a thing for boys. My mind went haywire about what could happen. I know he hurt me, which wasn’t okay, but I couldn’t bear to think what might happen to them. Every day I left the house, fearing for my family. I would do anything I could to keep them safe from harm. He had extra control over me by playing this evil game. It was Do as I say or someone you love will suffer.

    School was a place to go to get away from the world. I was friends with a lot of people. Like Alex, who I met at the martial arts school where we both trained. He was very funny and smart. I thought he was cute at the time and even had a little crush on him. But we were just friends. Unfortunately, Joe didn’t see it that way. One day after school, I went over Joe’s house to hang out with him. Once I got there, he let me know how much he didn’t like the fact I talked to Alex . . . or any guy for that matter. I was really excited to see him and I went to go hug him as I came down into his basement. He slammed me against the wall, catching me off guard then he punched me as hard as he could in my stomach. I dropped to the floor in tears. I had never been hit like that before! Of course, things like that happened for the next seven years, over and over.

    I guess I was too weak inside to stop it. In the beginning, the beatings were mild, nothing too bad. But the more I fought back, the worse Joe became. Surprisingly, I always thought it was something I did. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have walked like that. I shouldn’t have looked at him. I shouldn’t have worn that because Joe thinks it makes people look at me. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth and said that. I should’ve written him a note last period. I should have given him my whole paycheck, I didn’t need it. I should have drunk the beer that he wanted me to.

    Women were only here to make kids, according to Joe. He believed that they were here to please men. He always talked about disfiguring me in some way, like cutting off my clitoris off, so I couldn’t enjoy sex with anyone else. He thought that if I didn’t enjoy sex I would never want to be with anyone else. He thought that if the Arabic women did it for their men I should be happy to do it for

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