Shattered Crimson

By Dionne Gideon

As blood leaves the body, so does life. So how could a mother witness a blood trail from her son and not realize he’s dying?

Simone Phillips, a single, young mother, carries an emotional hole in her heart from her childhood. Wounded by a father who rejected her, yet tenderly loved her younger sister, she has managed to conceal the hurt with a successful career and conspicuous good looks. But the surface skin of the hollow cavity is broken when she and Calvin, her son’s father, go their separate ways. Not willing to deal with her emotional issues, Simone uses promiscuity as an escape. In turn, she becomes narcissistic and inattentive to her son CJ.

Now CJ is a typical, five year old boy in every way. However, his tearful expression of pain from his mother’s neglect is both the pathway to his death and the gateway to her deliverance. Witnessed only by Simone, the tear stains that CJ leaves behind manifest as blood stains. But Simone is too self-absorbed to follow this extraordinary blood trail. And it’s not until CJ ends up on his deathbed that she realizes the critical impact her lack of maternal love and nurturing has had on him.

“Shattered Crimson” is a powerful, spiritually and emotionally charged family drama. The tears and blood in this story become a revealing dichotomy of life and death. The tears evidence the hurt. But the blood reveals how that hurt, if neglected, can lead to an emotional, spiritual and possible physical death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665575119

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Shattered

Crimson

Dionne Gideon

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2022 Dionne Gideon. 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.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/21/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-7512-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-7511-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

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.

Contents

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Acknowledgement

I thank God for putting this story in my spirit and giving me the ability to write it. I thank my mother, the late Diane Smith, for encouraging me early on to write and my sister, Dawn Hart, for taking the baton from our mother and keeping the word of God as an anchor in our lives. I’m thankful for my father-in law, the late Yancy Gideon, Jr., as he encouraged me to complete this work. I’m also grateful to my very good friend, the late Robert Stern, whose analysis and review of this work were invaluable.

To my husband Yancy Gideon III: Thank you for your patience and feedback as I pitched each scene to you. Your support means everything.

Prologue

Ten Years Earlier – Detroit

T he older model black mustang clamorously rolled past the elegant homes in the Palmer Woods district, one of Detroit’s most prestigious neighborhoods. Winding roads and decadent landscaping with luscious, velvety green lawns were bordered by great trees, distinctly setting this area apart from the surrounding city. All the homes within this subdivision shared a massive, respect commanding presence. Built in the early 1900s, these magnificent houses boldly showed off their architectural superiority and grandeur.

Zipping through this opulent neighborhood, the black mustang, with its rust spots and strongly audible muffler, seemed conspicuously out of place. It also didn’t help that Leon was playing blaringly loud rap music and speeding about ten to fifteen miles over the residential speed limit.

At first sight, Leon appeared to be a teen-aged young man. He was thin with a muscular physique and a cute, boyish look about him. Neat, low-cut hair and a finely trimmed mustache complimented his handsome, caramel colored face. A tattoo laced upper arm revealed his love for his deceased grandmother and interest in religion by way of the huge cross engraved on his shoulder with the words, ‘Grandma, forever in my heart’, underneath it. Yet at second sight, there was a noticeable older look in his eyes; a troubled weariness. His eyes and that thuggish edge about him suggested that he had experienced some of the harsher realities of street life and that maybe early twenty something was more likely his real age.

Dressed in baggy, khaki shorts, white wife beater and Jordan sneakers, he rocked his head to the bass drenched track as he spit the explicit lyrics. Leon knew he was going against the noise ordinance and speed limit in this affluent neighborhood, but he figured, ‘what the hell, fuck these stuck-up rich people’. Besides, he could tell Simone was feeling his music by the way she sat on the passenger side nodding her head to the beat. And that was all the affirmation he needed to enforce his nonconforming ways on her elite neighborhood, especially Dr. Gary Phillips, her father.

Leon knew that he was out of his league dating Simone. His inferiority complex had nothing to do with the fact that she was stunningly beautiful. Seventeen and a half, Simone was a slim girl with curves, possessing a womanly silhouette with perfect emphasis on her hips, thighs and butt…a black man’s dream. Wavy, jet-black hair graciously rested midway her back and perfectly framed her light brown complexion. Her big, baby-doll eyes were shaped like perfect ovals along with full, sensuous lips and the cutest nose.

‘Damn! This girl is fine’, Leon thought as he momentarily glanced over at Simone. The pale pink DKNY shorts she wore glorified her slender, shapely legs—not to mention the matching, snug-fitting DKNY halter that revealed perky Bs and a slim, tight waist. Though brand name fashion was her thing, she made the clothes, they didn’t make her.

Yes, Simone Phillips had the whole package. Leon lightly snickered to himself as he reminisced about telling his friends how Simone was ‘classy and not assy’ like most of the girls in his hood. He was fully aware and very comfortable with how captivated he was by her. Yet his pride and confidence in her looks couldn’t compensate for how inadequate he always felt. It was the socio-economic factor that kept his stomach in knots. He knew her father had the influential prowess to make him an instant memory. The fact that he was still around after eight months suggested Dr. Phillips was either waiting him out or walking him down.

Driving with the windows down, the summer air was hot and thick, literally taking your breath away. The wind periodically hinted at a warm breeze, providing momentary relief from the sweltering heat. Simone delicately gathered her hair up into a ponytail. Even pulled up, the wavy tresses effortlessly raced down her back. She closed her eyes and let out a heat drained sigh. ‘It sure would be nice if the air conditioning worked in this car’, she thought as she fanned her face with her hands to no avail. But of course she would never complain to Leon. She knew he couldn’t afford a better car and she had resolved that this was good enough…for now. Besides, she felt safe with him and knew he adored her.

Simone turned to Leon and gave him a flirtatious look. I wish I didn’t have to go home right now, she mischievously suggested.

Music to his ears, Leon allowed her tempting words to travel from his ears to his smitten heart and continue to his tingling cock—but only for a moment. His body suddenly tensed, and his temples flared. A harsh, almost mean look came over his face.

Yeah, well I don’t need your father sending the police to my house again, like I’m holding you hostage, he snapped harshly. My mama don’t need that shit!

Simone’s heart instantly dropped as if a sudden blow had just landed in her gut. Slowly raising her hands over her face, she let out light sniffles as she shook her head despondently from side to side. The mere mention of that police incident ripped her to the core all over again. She remembered how her father wreaked emotional havoc on her that day; he talked to her as if she was a whore, like she wasn’t even his daughter.

Her father would never talk to Olivia that way. No, Olivia was the twinkle in his eye…the good girl. But why? Simone often wondered. Why did Daddy love Olivia and not her? Was it because Olivia was younger? Could two years really make that big of a difference? Or maybe it was the undeniable resemblance Olivia had to him. Perhaps it was because Simone, at the age of seven, told her mother about him kissing Dr. Holly’s wife…even after Daddy explained to her that he was only trying to save Mrs. Holly’s life and that what she saw should remain their little secret. Funny thing, Olivia witnessed that same kiss. She never said a word about it, yet made a point of telling her father that Simone made her come back there.

*        *        *

Daddy had picked Simone and Olivia up from school that Monday and made his routine clinic stop—a stop that normally took about forty-five minutes. Back then, Daddy and Dr. Holly shared the facility; Daddy was a pediatrician and Dr. Holly, a child psychologist. The clinic was closed on Mondays, so as usual, no one else was there.

Once inside the clinic, Simone and Olivia cut loose, pulling their neatly tucked white blouses out from the navy pleated skirts, kicking off their black leather Mary Jane shoes and running around the big play area as Daddy had a little ‘touch-up’ work to do in his office.

The girls were always instructed to stay in the play area while Daddy did his work, but Simone felt a little adventurous this Monday.

Let’s go find Daddy, Simone playfully suggested.

No Monie! Daddy said to play out here, Olivia obediently insisted.

Being the older sister had its advantages—Simone wasn’t just making a suggestion, her mind was already made up that they were going into Daddy’s office. She grabbed Olivia by the hand and in one yank they were both on their way down the hall.

No Monie, we have to play in the room, Olivia tearfully whined as she struggled to get her hand back.

Simone squeezed her little sister’s hand tighter. Stop being a baby. Come on!

Olivia instantaneously tapped into her super-girl strength and jerked her hand free from Simone’s grip. "Daddy said I am a baby. I’m his baby!" She self-righteously proclaimed, defending her daddy given title.

"Well Mommy said that I’m her big girl, Simone fired back. She grabbed her hand again. Now come on."

About ten more steps down the hall and there they were…Daddy and Mrs. Holly tongue kissing in his office.

Daddy—late thirties, six foot three, athletically built, jet black hair, dark brown eyes, and a charming smile—was. holding and kissing another woman. Mrs. Holly—fair skinned, mid-forties, attractive woman—turned white when she saw them. Her eyes widened and bulged as if she had just seen a ghost. She backed away from Dr. Phillips, let out a guttural gasp and ran out the office.

Daddy turned to face both of them, not with a look of shame, embarrassment or regret, but with parental anger towards disobedient children.

Olivia started to cry when she saw that look. She ran to him and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Daddy, Monie made me come here, she pitifully confessed, sobbing.

And just like that all was forgiven, at least for Olivia. Daddy looked down at her with endearing eyes and tenderly scooped her up into his arms. I know baby, he said softly, reassuring her. He gently brushed her dark brown bangs to the side as he softly kissed her forehead and delicately sat her in his big, brown office chair. All was well in Olivia’s world.

But not for Simone. She had no interest in apologizing for nor explaining her disobedience. Instead, she stood very still, with a tight face and her eyes fixed on him. Her temperament seemed calm, but fierce. Her stance was authoritative, as if she wasn’t moving or leaving until Daddy addressed this situation. She needed, better yet, demanded an explanation and Daddy knew it.

Daddy quickly reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sucker. Here baby, stay here, he said calmly to Olivia. Monie and Daddy will be right back.

Then came the sudden change. Daddy turned his undivided attention to Simone. But he was no longer a loving, comforting father. He was angry and frustrated, a stern disciplinarian, ready to straighten her out.

Slightly tugging at the white laced collar on her blouse, he marched her two doors down the hall into the lab area and sat her down on one of the stools. Taking deep, heavy breaths, he pulled up a stool and firmly placed it right in front of her. Simone felt cornered and afraid, as if a monster was going to pounce on her at any time. She wished her mother was there right then because she was the ‘That’s Enough Officer’ when his discipline or treatment towards her was a bit too harsh for a little girl…a role she never had to take on for Olivia.

Simone’s tight face softened, and her fixed eyes now shifted