Break My Chains

By Fay Lewis

Her life was spiraling out of control. She knew that she was headed down the wrong road with her life. Her soul would be lost if she did not heed the warnings. Linda had traveled around the world, looking and praying all the while for love. What she found instead could cost her dearly. Being traumatized by someone in the position of respect to assault in her mind and later to her body. The drugs and alcohol mixed with desires had a bad karma that wouldn't help. For all that she knew, she was doomed traveling down this road that only leads to death and despair for it is dark and dangerous. Where could she go? What should she do to end this nightmare? No one was listening to her. There had to be a way out of this situation. One night, while sitting in church, she knew instantly the moment that he touched her. She knew in her heart of hearts that her chains had been broken.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644625934

Book preview

A Child’s Heart

Today started off like any other day. I woke up early made myself a fresh, steaming cup of coffee and began to relax. As I sat there enjoying my coffee, my mind went back to when I was a child. I began to relive the times when my brother and sisters used to play. Oh, how we used to play. There was this one game called Dare that we played a lot. It’s a game where you challenge a person to either tell the truth or take a dare. You know the game.

Anyway, growing up was good even though seven people lived in a four-bedroom house. My best recollection was when we lived on Sixteenth Street. It was then that I was introduced to the excitement of travel. My favorite trip was really the most devastating one because it was then that molestation became a part of my memory.

At the tender age of thirteen, I visited my cousins in Salisbury as a part of my routine summer travels. I looked forward to being with my cousins because we had so much fun; however, their father had eyes for me. The first encounter happened while my cousins were gone to the store. As I came out of the bathroom, he was waiting for me with a smile on his face. He invited me to come to the kitchen with him where he placed me on top of the little freezer. That day was the beginning of the robbery of my innocence. I trusted and looked up to him, not knowing that it was wrong for a man to take advantage of a child in that manner. In the early fifties, you didn’t hear much about it; every now and then, someone would whisper about a little girl being raped.

First off, let me tell you more about my family and me. We grew up in a time when racial tension was very strong so we encountered a lot of roadblocks. I remember the bathroom sign that said Colored and how certain towns wouldn’t allow us to eat in their restaurant. There was this one stop my grandfather decided to make at this restaurant because we were tired and hungry. The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but it would do since all we were about to do was eat. My family went in and we each took a seat, the waitress came over looked at us and politely said, We don’t serve niggers in here.

Wow, talk about being shocked and scared. I was scared to death. Next thing I knew, we were hightailing it out of that restaurant, and we did not look back.

Now that I look back over my life and the events that led to me becoming chained up, I have to say that it all started with a child’s heart. I was trusting and was raised to respect my elders, and not to talk back to anyone who is older than you.

Religion played an important part of my life. My sisters and I sang in the choir, and my grandfather was the pastor of the church, and my grandmother was a strong prayer warrior and mother of the church. She kept us in line when we acted up or didn’t do what we were told. Believe me, you got it right because grandma was not the one to buck up against. I guess I was trying to be grown. Well, let me tell you it didn’t take much for me to toe the line. All it took was a direct hit from Grandma Thompson to make me see the light. My grannie was a sweet-tempered short praying woman, and if she told you not to do something, that is exactly what she meant; no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

School was great. Although I was kind of quiet, I managed to have a few great classmates, and we seem to enjoy each other. I never got into any trouble at school because I really did like going. My family encouraged me to participate in a lot of after-school activities. I was a member of the YWCA organization, and they had a lot of activities for you. I was a majorette and a letter girl for the YWCA, and I had the opportunity to march in the city’s parade three years in a row. Those were the days.

I had a happy childhood in spite of being molested. I tried to forget what had happened, and I told no one because I felt no one would believe me. As time passed, I began to withdraw into myself and found comfort in reading books about travel. One day, I would travel around the world. I will become successful and have a nice home. That was my dream and it was in my heart. So I began to plan what I would do when I finished school.

The summers were hot and sticky and the nights were stuffy. Once in a while, the DT man would drive up and down each street and spray. The streets would be filled with this thick white smoke from the truck. I would run out into that smoke with the other kids, not knowing if there would be some kind of side effect or not. The only thing on my mind was to play and have some fun with my friends. We couldn’t see anyone, but we could hear; that was how thick the smoke was. Life was good.

Sometimes we would have a block party where all the neighbors got together and cooked a dish and blocked off the streets from oncoming traffic. Music would be playing and couples dancing. Occasionally, a card game of poker or spades would have the men shouting a time or two. As I look back on my youth, I am saddened a little, for we have the tendency to rush to grow up instead of taking the time to enjoy being a kid. Out of my first encounter, I now know that a robbery had taken place. What I thought did not affect me indeed had. I became a shell of a young girl who had resorted to hiding in that lonely place that no one should go. I became doubtful of myself and mistrustful of boys and men. Had it not been for my grandfather being in my life and learning from my mother and grandmother and aunt, I would not have made it. I gained knowledge and love from the women in my life who taught me how to love and act. I gained from my grandfather wisdom and understanding that not all men are alike. That he is the strength and glue that held us together with a bond that was fashioned with love. I love you, Granddaddy, for your wisdom and stern hand. I would always be his innocent little child with the big