I Am Toxic

By Jacqueline Bitton

I am Toxic is a suspenseful fictional novel that all adults can relate to whether you like to admit it or not.

Michelle Bererra is trafficked into the sex industry by her sister & trauma stemming from a dysfunctional upbringing that forced religion & abuse on her during puberty makes her run away at a young age & the dark side finds her. She must be careful for the world is now plagued by death all around her. She faces many obstacles & her desire for freedom alters her perception on reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669861034

Jacqueline Bitton

Jacqueline’s authentic & strong, natural ability to attract & engage the reader will highlight her talents, passion and ability to publish a full-length novel worthy enough for film. If you’re coming from a good heart you will undoubtedly feel nostalgia. Greatly blending together in her own dialect elements of true crime drama, betrayal & unforeseen uncontrollable events. You will forever change your view on love & it’s counterpart hate. Forcing you to take a stand in your own mind on what is right and what is wrong. It incorporates crime, mystery and soft erotica. Arousing the readers interest in this steady pursuit of love, money & security. This daddy’s girl takes loyalty seriously. Be prepared to be thrilled in this fictional classic that will leave you wanting more. I live in Chicago. On my free time I love to entertain as a background actress and perform as a dancer.

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Copyright © 2023 by Jacqueline Bitton.

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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.

Rev. date: 12/27/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Chapter #1 Check In Time – Room for Two

Chapter #2 The Estranged Tree of Life

Chapter #3 Real Good Feel Good

Chapter #4 No Place Like Home

Chapter #5 Drowning The Noise

Chapter #6 Finding an Escape Route

Chapter #7 A Whole New World

Chapter #8 What Is Normal

Chapter #9 The Devil is Near

Chapter #10 The Golden Days

Chapter #11 Losing Focus

Chapter #12 Segregation

Chapter #13 See You Later

Chapter #14 Cast Out My Soul

Chapter #15 Eat This

Chapter #16 Shake What Your Momma Gave Ya

Chapter #17 The Past is the Past and the Last

Chapter #18 Now You Pay for Life

CHAPTER #1

CHECK IN TIME – ROOM FOR TWO

My name is Michelle Barrerra & this is the story of my life. The Southbend Hotel, I thank my lucky stars, and where ever God may be for blessing me with my apartment. Me and my baby have lived here since November of 2020. Me and my 2-year-old baby are so happy and comfortable here. We sleep next to each other most of the time on my queen-sized bed. He has his own bed but prefers to sleep next to his mommy.

This is a small unit fully equipped with washer and dryer and modern microwave, electric stove and black fridge, next to the hall, next to the door. I couldn’t ask for a better-looking shower. It’s got a door that’s made out of glass. You need a squidgy to wipe it clean and make it shine. Its big and encased in glass, with a shower head that’s placed, high near the ceiling.

Its circular and let me tell you the water pressure is nice. The handheld adjustable shower head shoots water like a firefighter’s hose. What I lack in space I make up for in my beautiful bathroom. I also filled this studio with a brown wooden dresser, that’s a toy table for my kid. Man, he has so many toys.

At first, he had Hot Wheel sets that were easily able to detach the pieces apart or attach the pieces together and just put aside in a corner. Then I bought him a plane that held several other toy cars inside it. That led to his magnetic train and track set. With me picking up all the pieces off of the floor. It is so annoying!

Hopefully he gets to the age where he starts picking them up on his own. I try to sing the song clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere, but that doesn’t help none. He just enrolled in pre-school & it’s only for just, three hours. I don’t know how these pre-school teachers do this for a living. I wish I could understand what my son says when he’s speaking.

I wish he could talk in complete sentences, rather then yelling and always screaming No! at the top of his lungs all the time. I spoiled that kid. It’s my fault he acts the way he does. Maybe it’s what all kids go through at this age. A phase. At first, I used to burn food in this electric stove, but now I’m a cooking pro.

I went on Amazon and purchased glass cooking ware. It makes food look more appealing. At least to me it does. I prefer stoves that operate with flame. They call it gas. I have a couple windows that overlook the main lobby’s roof. My unique studio has a get this, a brick wall! This place used to be a motel, back in the day. All my Amazon deliveries are shipped straight to my door which is convenient because at the moment I don’t drive. I have my license revoked and suspended. There is no place I would rather be, then far as fuck away from the loonies that call themselves my relatives. My life with my kid is splendid. We don’t need them! They never did nothing for us. Ever!

From what I researched quickly on Google, was that a lot of mentally handicapped, homeless and weirdos rented rooms out for a monthly rent of $620 a month. That’s not a bad price. I’ve been homeless once or twice and that’s not a bad price. That’s before it was renovated and over 500 homes were foreclosed on. Lots of violence and gangs.

Most of the neighborhood now went under a gentrification. It’s mostly a Hispanic area. There are some Whites and Blacks. I spend most my time at home with my son. Especially since there have been 4 different variants of the global worldwide pandemic, Covid-19 virus. I don’t trust in people. I don’t trust the government to be specific.

I don’t trust anyone. I trust in my mask and washing of the hands and staying apart 6 feet from any and everybody. It’s the best way to avoid getting contaminated and die. I’ve been making the most of the summer. That’s why I love living here in the Bumble Park area. It’s so beautiful. There is 200 acres of a beautiful park where me and my child go to feed the ducks and other kinds of birds. Once in a while only because it’s not such a safe area. Some people try to have their picnics on the ground on the grass & those moments are so peaceful.

There is so much grass. There are also a lot of tents that a group of homeless people constructed themselves in the main entrance. It gives it a rather intimidating impression. Plenty of room to breathe in the fresh wonderful air. My child loves to go on the ‘ducky boat.’ It’s available only in the summer and four people can fit even though it’s always just the two of us. Me and my baby.

I swear, when I drop my kid off at the school he just started attending, I go for a long jogging session. It helps to clear all the negativity that I feel from the moment I wake up. I have thoughts that go through my mind that are not always good. In fact, most of my thoughts are bad. Thoughts of revenge & vengeance towards a group of people who have it coming. I despise them and these feelings.

There’s a trail, that bikers, joggers and people use, to do all of these things. I grab a bottle of refrigerated cold water, after hitting a packed bowl of dispensary medical marijuana. The dispensary is a ten-minute walk from my apartment. How convenient! On days where I felt super energetic, I’ll lift my 25-pound ball weight & throw in a hundred, ab crunches.

I make sure I have my cell phone charged up, and turn up the volume. Slide it into my Victoria Secret leggings side pocket and head out with my headphones, to the nearby Dusty Dune trails. Its stunning! It extends from one part of the neighborhood to another part of the city. It has many plants, trees, bushes and flowers.

Taking in all of the fresh air especially when the maintenance men are out there, cutting the grass it smells so fresh. Something I do to keep my body in shape. Run every other day when I can and have the time. I usually lift my 25-pound weight in repetition, several hundred times a day. I used to be kind of fat and a bit overweight.

To the point my son would walk up to me, smack my jelly roll stomach, watch it wiggle and walk away giggling. That’s when I started to feel non-feminine. Now when my son smacks my stomach its flat and I can fondly reply mommy’s not fat any more. Me giggling with a smiley face right back at him. I have an hour glass figure.

My thighs have increased in size, and not to brag but since my tummy got flatter, I’ve been checking out my butt more in the mirror. I been meaning to buy a weight scale. I don’t see it as a tool in weight loss. I believe in strength. Strength is one natural’s ability to make the body do what the body tells it to do.

For example, me getting up multiple times a night to get my baby his bottle. I know it’s time when he starts sucking on his fingers. That sound wakes me up and it’s my nightly routine. It takes a lot out of me being a new mommy. Thankfully the fridge isn’t too far. This is such a convenient place for me to raise my two-year-old.

When I need to shower I have him in my sight. I love showering up in my bathroom after running and working out. The water pressure hits my back and it’s almost like a massage. I just close my eyes and enjoy. The mirror is my best friend. I can look at myself and tell if I’m getting more toned by the day. I have big breast for being such a tiny girl.

I have to watch out, when I’m running, I wear a regular bra and then a sports bra to hold it all together. Sometimes my nipple wants to pop out when I’m running. I like to have clothes that fit me tightly when I’m jogging. I don’t like to adjust my bra straps or song that’s playing. I try to go early in the day cause after sundown all the weirdos come out. Especially in warmer temps.

I can’t say I’m dieting because I eat whatever I want but I learned to eat smaller portions of food. And since my baby father moved out or shall I say after I had enough, of his abusive behavior, I stopped being polite. I stopped serving him food, stopped watching him be as lazy as he can be and sleep all day. He never wants to go on walks with me and the kid. He’d rather sleep or stay indoors.

I can’t be a hermit. I need to encourage my child to be healthy. Not have him watch you smoke Newport’s and be lethargic all the time. I have more energy to spend on my son and he doesn’t have to constantly watch us fighting. Since he’s been gone, I’ve been getting strong or shall I say stronger? I like the word stronger.

My mom & and her new boyfriend Mario, purchased a 4-acre property in a rich white folk area. From my understanding you have to have a lot of money to own a property of this size. The surrounding suburbs are Lake Opal and Lazuli Lake. I’m so happy I do not live there any longer with my family members. Life for me there daily, was constant turmoil.

Look at how much space there is to move around, I tell myself then. When I first went to live there, I told, myself everybody hates me, they will stay out my way. The place is huge. Nobody is going to have time to pay attention to me and my kid. Not how they already do here at my daddy’s house.

Now that I truly think about it, life with them really was hell and I had the chance to see my family members for who they really are. They make me sick. Literally they make me mentally sick. Being around my mom and her favorite daughter is not healthy. You know I don’t feel bad for not speaking to my mother or her ugly daughter.

Is there or isn’t there a commandment written somewhere Though shall honor thy mother and father? Well, I don’t quite follow that commandment any longer. Go ahead rant and rave. You only get one mother respect her, blah blah blah. It’s like religion you can’t and shouldn’t force it on anyone. Like a dog that gets chased it will run from, not run to.

My mom gave into taking me and my 2 yr. old son due to the sad fact my child’s father was beating me nearly, every day, in front of my baby. While I would hold my baby and almost always while he was high and drunk. He wouldn’t care about abusing me in front of his friends, if we were alone or if I was pregnant.

I feel like, he was more of a disloyal dog, the longer I stayed around. Five years was enough for me. You know to be honest, we were on and off at first. We would be together for 6 months in the very beginning and then I started to see he was not who he appeared to be. He was very violent and aggressive towards me.

Months would pass and I would get sick of being around the house where there was always jealousy and envy coming from my ugly sister, Shoshana. Let’s face it, Jabari and me had some good times together. I liked when he used to pick me up so we can go drink pints of Remy Martin. French cognac. Looks dark in color, darker than red wine. Not quite the color of blood. I decided to not hold any grudges. Sucked up my pride and called him.

I remember it was during football season. I’d rather chill, do some bumps and sip on cognac with Jabari, then to stay at home and get involved in any feuding. Be it with my irritating sister or my mother’s disgusting boyfriend. He thinks he can wear leather boots, a hat and spit like a cowboy, a caballero. He ain’t shit to me.

The only man who ever was my hero, was my brother Leon. He was murdered in Iraq during patrol in Bagdad. The Army Medic who was actually supposed to go on patrol, claimed to feel sick and so my younger brother, Corporal Leon Berrada, Army Medic was ordered by higher ranking officers to fill in for the other soldier.

An improvised explosive device was to blame for claiming the life of my beautiful handsome brave brother, along with 2 other soldiers. He died from burns that spread from his young face, down the sides of his untattooed arms. I was told all of this information, by one of the female army officers, who came to pay their respects to my dad and my mom.

I remember the news anchors and camera men, walked & talked with my daddy. It all made immediate front page headline news on tv & the local newspaper. What a sad and tragic way to die. The impact this had on me. You couldn’t even begin to understand how this psychologically fucked up my mental and physical being.

I had just enrolled into and began college for a criminal justice bachelor’s degree. I had envisioned my father standing next to my brother in full military uniform next to my mom. Smiling happy rising from their chair, clapping for me, as I walked across the stage, during college graduation. I was motivated to pursue a career, get my life started.

I would be alongside my brother working for the state as an Illinois State Police or a correctional officer. My brother probably would have used his military experience to become an officer too. I thought he was that tough. He wanted to become a medical surgeon. Those were his inspirations and dreams and lifelong goals he had set out to pursue.

Leon wanted to be a doctor. More specifically a surgeon. He was that smart & that devoted to his vision and dream. Leon was very young, when he was murdered by a coward terrorist. He was just 20. He had many, many, several years of life to live. All that he could have accomplished in his medical career. He would have made several advancements in the medical field and published it in a medical journal for other doctors and students to read about it.

Leon had several years remaining. The book of Life. God owns it. In it is everyone’s life and future and what will be of them. This is the stupid shit my mother once said to me. I use to believe in God. I know we have our fate sealed. Only God knows what will happen to us. I also believe we make decisions and have a choice to do smart things and dumb things in life. I never grew up with my brother.

I was kept apart from him and everybody else I ever knew in my family. I ran away at a very young age. I basicly raised myself on my own without a mom a dad a brother or a sister. All by my mother fucking lonesome You have no idea what I am. I sure as fuck don’t feel like a woman I was never givin an opportunity to feel feminine. I always have to get up and go get mine everyday. I’s not like that for my sister. My mom and her probably bang Mario all together.

For example, something dumb to do in life that would have a long-lasting impact would be a woman spreading herself like warm butter. Pushing and poppn out babies left and right. Not doing right by them. That’s how my mom and dad came to adopt a child. My dad wanted a baby, because he wanted a man around the house to protect my mom when he would pass.

My dad was 30 years older than my mom. He was 50 years old. She was only 19. The day they met, was when he travelled to Tijuana to look for help in his restaurant. Its primarily catered to the Jews cause that’s what the neighborhood consisted of. Mostly religious orthodox Jews who keep Kosher, and so those were the type of people showing up regularly and dining at my daddy’s restaurant.

It was called Golden Wok Chinese Kosher restaurant. It was located across the street from the public elementary school I attended. The building was right next to a daycare center for little kids. It had a cute little playground that leads into the small daycare center, run by an older Chinese and Assyrian woman. They stop to small talk and chit chat about the weather, if they see you walking by.

Back in the day when dudes were rocking mohawks in neon color hair dye, everything 80s, and candy, God knows I miss my childhood, everything was pure and innocent. There used to be 2 candy convenient stores, across the street from each other. I rode my bike around the one block radius back and forth, while my mom cooked away with Wong.

The Chinese chef in my daddy’s food place. He had many daughters like 6 of them. They all played with me, when my dad and mom would be downstairs operating the restaurant. I loved that place. My dad would let me throw my birthday down there, and they would decorate it real nice with streamers and balloons.

My older ½ sister, Nikole would come over and bring her entire collection of music cd’s. I remember seeing a lot of Madonna & Janet Jackson in her collection. Well anyways I would be the main dj. Me and my friends from school would try and beat each other at silly dance games. Oh gosh I hated the moment my friend, I wish I could remember which one, shoved my plate of cake in my face. It made me so instantaneously mad or should I say upset?

Just as quick as it happened, I got over it. Life was so fun! I had a speaker set and it was attached to a white radio that played albums. I can insert my blank cassette tape into it, press down and record. When B96 DJs would have their countdown at night, I would record my favorite songs. Then try to write them all down and phone in hoping, I’d get to name all them 9 songs and win.

That never happened but I do remember my dumb mom saying I couldn’t send in my fan letter, to my favorite New Kids on The Block singer. She brought my dad’s name into the conversation and tried to make me feel like I was a dirty girl. I give myself an A for attempt. Lord knows I attempted lots of shit.

When I was little, because I was never allowed to do the normal shit, other girls my age like my friends were doing. Like you have no idea how much socializing I was deprived off as a young girl. No clue. Let’s focus on the big move from the house where my daddy passed away. In his house, on the North side of Chicago.

My mom & sister purchased a half million-dollar property near Lake Lazuli. Over an hour away. My mom put all of her tables, dressers, bed, everything, the washers, the dryers, from the basement. Every last towel and item in every closet of the 2 story, 3-bedroom house, & loaded it onto Mario’s dirty pick-up truck. She swore up and down, she was closing a chapter in her life.

She said she would rent the house out to a military family and not the Jewish family next door. Who had seen my mom, loading boxes and making similar trips back and forth in Mario garbage picker upper. You know the kind of pickup truck you see dirty, immigrant looking Hispanics ride around in. Sometimes with their wife, looking for iron or wood or random crap left behind people’s homes.

Near the trash. All for the thrill of picking it up and possibly hoarding it. I helped to load and lift so many boxes that my back and entire body begged me to give it a break. Why couldn’t she call more of Mario’s dirty family, to help her move? She shouldn’t be doing too much no ways because of her condition.

That’s why I help my mom and really don’t let her get behind a broom or a mop cause all the dust and chemicals are bad for her. My ugly big nose sister never cleaned. No, the princess has her own room. Mom gives her a Subaru and a Harley Davidson motorcycle, which if you ask me further more confirms my suspicions of her being a dyke, is true.

I have never once seen her with her boyfriend. I doubt she’ll ever have kids or be happy in a relationship because she looks like a constipated bitch 24/7. I call her big nose because she has a big nose like my father. She could never be as thick and juicy as me. Dream on bitch. My mom gives her everything, including full control of purchasing real estates to purchase, rehab and sell.

It’s how my dad used his skills to make money and put it in the bank. He used to be a brick layer working on high rises and scaffolds. He nearly fell 30 stories, had it not been for his fellow coworker, grabbing him by his grey hoodie. My daddy always had a smell that attach from the bags of cement mixer he constantly worked with.

I miss the smell. I can remember the same exact smell like it was yesterday. I saw my dad laying there in the hospital bed convulsing and shaking violently. His construction boots I could see, but the hospital’s bed, ceiling drape didn’t reveal the rest of his body. It was so serious they had called my older ½ sister, Nikole. She was there with me, my mom and little brother Leon.

The doctors at St. Gabriel Hospital saved his life. He had ulcers that busted but he survived his brush with death. Once more. Joseph loved to smoke cigarettes when he owned the restaurant. He would smoke like 2 ½ packs a day. That’s a lot of Merits, in the yellow box. One day, I opened the box that smelled like death to me and flushed all of his stupid little cigarettes down the toilet.

Flushed them all. I can’t say what happened next. I actually think he is the one who told me to do it. In the bathroom. I did many a things behind that closed door. That made my momma come knocking on the door. Hard. In Mexican, while my dad sat right there in the grey sofa, watching Headline or CNN news.

With the volume raised high as always. Him and his international news. Shut the water off already! Enough! I could hear her yelling. I wouldn’t say she timed my showers but my dad never told me it was ever time to get out. I’m not going to lie, I was lying on my back, legs spread as far apart as they can go and I was letting all of that water, hit all of my pussy.

Until I couldn’t fantasize no more of Keanu Reeves or some sexy guy encircling me. Walking slowly around me, until I started to burst into a thousand pieces of pure pleasure. I don’t think my momma was cool with my enormous sexuality. Well get into that later.

I was getting beat down every day! The crazy, drunk, baby’s father deserted the apartment we shared together, after I had to call the police to save me and my baby. The night he got drunk and started going insane. To move in with my mother was tough. Tough I tell ya! But actually, picking up the pieces and starting over was right for me. Right when the pandemic was starting too.

I really was looking forward to doing something as long as it didn’t involve Jabari. Oh, & especially because the crazy selfish bitch, Shoshana was not going to be joining us. No. My mom had not just purchased the 4-acre, 5-bedroom, 3-bathroom land. She had also told my evil sister to buy, another property for Mario, his brothers and nephews to rebuild and sell.

My mom was quite happy my sister would not be moving in with us because she doesn’t want her talking shit about Mario’s drinking problem. He drinks a lot of cerveza with his family members while fixing the houses. My mom bought for them many enormous houses to repair in expensive suburbs, so she can sell it. For her it was a sense of security.

Her partner and his family would benefit by joining together in the resources left behind by my daddy, so they can expand. I don’t know what it is with my mom & these repair men. These electricians with the repair vans and drinking buddies, that also know how to fix this wire or unscrew and mount that.

Before Mario, my mom’s current live in boyfriend, she was banging some younger dude that rolled with the electrician, she was paying to rewire the property at my childhood home. The one infront of the school. For now, Shoshana would watch all the dogs and in return, she will live in the property, my mom told her to purchase. Which she did, while my mom rents it out and starts making repairs on it.

When they went and purchased the half a million property in the burbs, they finally upgraded me & my child to a standard room. I finally had a room with a door. That is where I would stay when my mom throws her parties. Lots of people from Mario’s friends and family would come over to the place and ‘party hard’ in the back of the house.

My mom would always say there having these parties with BBQ’s and beer in the back, where they planned to build horse stables, with his friends, so they will come down on the price of the materials. The time put into building something like what my mom saw in a catalog was time consuming. She said it cost a lot of money.

My mom would pay Mario good money, written in checks. I hate all them equally. All his cousins and his daughter and her kids. Well, the dyke of my sister once again gets full reign of the property. I’m glad she got stuck with all of those smelly, shit staining, loud-ass, barking muts. Two ugly, white, curly-haired, dirty looking, ankle biters.

Thank God one of them died and I was there to watch it happen. Watching that dumb bitch question herself if I had anything to do with it, but then quickly rule it out was a classic. I’ll never forget it. I didn’t have shit to do with it. It was just a lame dog. Like her. The reaction in my stupid sister’s face, when she came back from the vet.

She announced there was nothing they can do for the dog any more! I wish I had a camera at that moment. I hate her! I’m surprised this was the only time, I was not blamed for this occurrence. I guess the Jewish woman who gave them to her, knew they already had some type of genetic defect and gave them away for this reason. Also because she wanted to make a profit. People are sick like that.

I asked her what’s wrong with it, she said she took it to the vet and it’s going to die. I was so happy for her. Evil bitch. She only got those disgusting rats, after I went to animal care control on 26th Street and adopted a beautiful rescue dog, named Smokey Joe. He was a baby only 6 months old at the time. Such a beautiful puppy. It looked like Rudolph the red nose reindeer.

Like I said my dad was a heavy chain smoker and at the age 55 the doctors only gave him 6 months to live. Well, he survived. After that my dad kept bricklaying. He built the new cafeteria in my school. He scammed the shit out of the insurance companies. Hey, get the money by all means, get the money.

My poor daddy woke up at the crack of dawn like 5 in the morning. Dark outside everything quiet. Wouldn’t get back till like 6 in the evening. Man. He was old. Senior citizen. Off to work he’d go, with his lunchbox. His deli fresh pastrami, and rye or roast beef, salami sandwiches. Man, if he only knew what his whore wife was up to these days.

What a fall from grace. Even though my mom from Mexico, she learned the laws of Judaism. When I was young, before converting to become of the Jewish faith. I remember her struggling to learn the laws of United States, in order to pass for a citizenship. Her English was alright. She could read and comprehend the basics. If only she had applied herself.

Instead, she watched soap operas in Spanish, and on weekends she would play channel 44 or 60 and watch old Mexican Western cowboy movies on Sunday mornings. I swear to God!! She never really paid much attention to me, past the age of 8. I was a daddy’s girl. I always stuck my green fresh boogers on the hallway walls.

I don’t know if it was the wall paper’s fuzziness, or the orange/brownish sunflowers, decorating it. Perhaps it was because I just wanted to hear my daddy come home from work, or wherever he was and announce in Spanish, Who put these boogers on the wall? Then I’d run to him from the living room, where I’d usually be doing homework or listening to the radio stations.

My boogers would get all hard and translucent. Almost see through. My dad would embrace me and I would kiss him to take in that bricklayer/construction worker smell, in his hoodie when he’d be hugging me back. Dame un besito! He’d gladly offer up! I’d always parade around my dad when he arrived.

After all them hours with my absent and distant minded mother, I was more then glad to see a refreshing familiar face. Living in Chicago, it is cold most of the time. Unless its summer. So, he’d usually be wearing a black coat over it. He used to wear glasses too. He was a very good driver. He never got into any accidents.

Such an elegant man in his latest, Mercedes station wagon, silver. Previous to this, he was known to drive station wagons. Everyone would always stop and sweat him. He owned a few properties. One near his home on the rougher patch of the black people side. A 3-flat, that got torn down because they built an addition to the school.

The other property was on the west side of Chicago. A decent 25 minute ride straight down the main street. It was huge! Like a 3-flat property with multiple apartments on each floor. $1,000,000.00 property, that came with its fair share of headaches and problem tenants. Some Blacks, some Hispanics. Purposely clogging pipes cause of evictions notices, due to not paying the rent.

My dad didn’t care about background checks. He was a very smart man. If he wasn’t my dad in this lifetime, he was a detective in another one. He was a good judge of character. Always right. He was also a kind person. If he saw that it was a couple kids, and they looked like responsible adults, he would rent out the apartment to them.

He did a very good job of repainting, refixing tiles, installing carpets and upgrading his properties. So, every month he collected from all his tenants, but all of them loved him. Even the problems ones, did at first too. I miss you dad. You know as much as I didn’t want to see Mario’s ugly face around the house. There was a pandemic called Covid-19.

No one knew too much about it, except that it is a death sentence. If I go to live with my son, back in the apartment with Jabari, I’m just going to wind up dead. He’s gonna go too far one day, he’ll hit me and I won’t get back up to fight him back. Plus, at that time he had hired a lawyer and went to the court to get a DNA test. I could have forced him to get a place for us cause he had friend’s that had money and would get cribs just because. I just didn’t feel comfortable living around strangers. Essentially they are.

I don’t want my son watching people co habitat. I need him to be in a loving environment. That’s not going to happen around Jabari. He is always with one of friends or all of his boyz. Smoking Newport 100’s. The smell of the disgusting odor arising in circles to surround and consume my nasal passages is so nauseating. Looking in his phone when he’s drunk and passed out is also another nauseating feeling. I always feel like I have to be fighting with him.

Even though I told him, it was his and I never slept with anyone else except him. Bet he felt bittersweet the moment he received the results. What a jerk! He was never there for any kind of support. When I told him, I was pregnant he stopped answering my calls. He avoided me. We went from having sex every day, me and him together every night. To him ignoring me. Completely cut off communication. I thought he died or something foul happened. I wish.

This is what we planned on all these years. Then the miscarriage. You cried! You ghosted me! You think you know somebody. This