Son Blocked

By Christine King

Ten long years filled with prayer, therapy and hard work has helped to put the pieces of Samantha Sure's life together. She has not had an easy or a common life, yet Sam hardly complains. Ordinary daily activities normal people did without a qualm? Samantha needed anointed oil and Dr. Boice, her therapist. Yet through it all, Sam has had the love and support of four wonderful uncles, the world's best, best friend and her babies, Puddin and Candy. Surely God would let the rest of her life be peaceful and calm? I mean God said He wouldn't put more on you than you can bare right? Sam doesn't want much. I mean would it be too much to ask God for one thing? Just one thing. She just needed one answer to one question and her life would change forever.

Detective SR Page is a man who's seen the seedier parts of living as a homicide detective in Louisville, Kentucky. His faith in God hasn't wavered but grown in the face of poverty driven crimes and hate filled felonies. SR knows about painful relationships and unanswered questions. Even still. He needs answers. He wants answers only Sam can give, and Detective SR Page wants Samantha Sure for himself. But so does Turp. He has dedicated years toward this goal. He has manipulated people and events to reach Samantha. The sacrifices and ordeals he's endured all to have Samantha. He will not be deterred, detoured or derailed. He just wants, no needs one thing. Turpitude Grundy needs Samantha Sure. He surely does. And he'll take her anyway he can get her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798886169959

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Son Blocked

Christine King

ISBN 979-8-88616-994-2 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88616-995-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Christine King

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

About the Author

Shall we much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and live?

—Hebrews 12:9

To God, the Author and Finisher of my faith.

Foreword

Christine King's book Son Blocked helps us to consider our lives, the world we live in, and how we can conquer our fears. You're invited to start growing as you read the life changing story and the application of practical remedies to the issues that many people face.

Christine King has touched the heart of God and He is allowing her gift to reach every soul that reads Son Blocked.

John Christian

Pastor Christian Worship Centers Lake County, Fl.

Commissioner Leesburg, Fl.

Acknowledgments

Iwant to thank these following people:

My husband, Elder Dr. Derrick L. King, Sr., without his urgings and support, this book would have remained an idea. You're a godsend and my man, and I love you dearly.

My family and friends, who proofread for me: Rev. Leola Hepburn, rest in peace. Rev. Helen Sawyers, and Rev. Karen McCollom; my sisters: Linda Crawford, Pastors John and Constance Christian. I love and thank you all for your help, your time, and your fierce loyalty to truth.

My children, J'Dawn, Derrick Jr., and Jordan, who ate less than wholesome meals so Mom could keep working while the iron was hot! I'm so blessed to have you as my children, I love you.

Phil Russell, public information officer of the Louisville Metro Police Department, for his invaluable help.

Mike McNutt, my advisor from the SPCA of Louisville.

My friends, Dr. Rob Dowling, Rev. Kimberly Cooper and Todd Boice, you mean more to me than you know, and thank you, Todd, for all your help.

And my mother, Helen Streeter, who put the love of reading into me and my sibling, who nourished the joy found in the written word, who taught me by example how to be a woman, a mother, and—most of all—a Christian saved by grace. I love you Momma, I'll see you again someday.

And finally, my father, Rev. Marcus A. McCollom, who even posthumously instills strength and determination. His smile and laughter were infectious. It's still ringing in my heart today. Thank you, Daddy. I miss you and love you dearly.

Prologue

Ifeel different today, just different. Momma would have said, Your spirit is troubled, whatever that means. Anyway, I just feel like something is, oh, I just can't come up with the right words to describe it, but something big is gonna happen today. I can just feel it. Maybe I should have stayed in school, graduated even. Maybe then I could find the right words to say what I'm feeling. Instead, I met Gunna and Jack, and a whole new world opened. Yes, baby! We'd have so much fun together; we began to hang out all the time, every day. They moved in with me, stayed right there in my room. Momma couldn't stand either one of them, so when she found out they were my friends, she made this huge deal out of it, like she never had something she brought home that I didn't want there. She thought I didn't remember what she was like before she got all holy and religious. Oh, but I did and do remember all the late nights and hushed voices, the grunts and giggles. All the strange bottles in the kitchen trash can and the smells coming from her that I now know was liquor and the juices that run down your thighs when it's all over and done. Yeah, she got up on her high horse and tried to tell me the right thing to do, but hey, she liked it, and as the old saying goes, Like mother, like daughter. She put me out after catching me stealing from her again. Said she was washing her hands from the whole thing and was gonna leave me in the hands of the Lord. Like that meant anything to me, leaving me in the hands of the Lord.

I mean, it wasn't long after that she ended up in the hospital dying of pancreatic cancer—twenty-nine years old and dead from cancer. I went to see her there in the hospital. As bad as she looked, with all the pain and all the drugs she was on, she was still trying to tell me what to do, still talking about God and how He could save me from a life of sin and shame! What shame! I still had Gunna and Jack. They loved me. She told me something that I really hadn't thought about before. They love anybody they can control, Momma said, with tears streaming down her face. That's not real love. Real love can only be found in Jesus, and He promised me that He'd honor His word and I can die in peace 'cause I know He'll take care of you. And she died.

The funeral was quick with only her friends from church there along with the pastor, no other family members besides me. Momma was an orphan. She was raped when she was thirteen. She should have gotten rid of me a long time ago. Anyway, when I walked away from that cemetery, I left it all behind and set out for new territory—no real destination in mind, just away from there, just Gunna, Jack, and me. I figured I could lie about my age, get a job dancing at some club, get my own spot, and chill. I hitched a ride out of the city, stopped at a diner for a burger, met dude, and now I'm here. It's not so bad here. I've got my own room, even if the walls sweat making it damp some days, and great food. They said after a year, they'd give me twenty-five thousand dollars to start over somewhere, anywhere. I thought it wasn't such a bad idea. I mean, what's a year? Not much time when you sit down and think about it. It was one year of being pampered like a treasured princess, eating delicious food, anything I wanted. Well, almost. Nah, I don't know where here is or who they are. It just didn't seem all that important to me at the time. I, uh, wasn't thinking straight. Hey, since I'm being real here, the truth is, I wasn't thinking at all. Now? Thinking is all I do.

I've come to realize some things. I miss things! I miss things that I never in a million years would think I'd miss, like people, voices, laughter. I hear nothing except an occasional bird chirping and the sound of soft footsteps in the hall, oh, and the ever-present singing without words droning on and on. Ugh. I miss light. Oh, there's plenty of lamps with light bulbs and sunlight comes through my window, but I don't mean light like that. I mean light like when I was at home with Momma and the very air was different. That kind of light. It's dark here, every day, all day long—dark. Makes me wish I had Gunna here to twist and fire up with a big mason jar full of Jack to drink. I miss the way Momma's eyes would get that faraway look in them when she'd sing by the kitchen window. Bow down and worship Him, worship Him, oh worship Him! Yeah, I still remember some of the words. I miss Momma. I miss me before I started doing all the wrong things. Yeah, I know I did wrong—selfish. Wanted to be free to do what I thought I was big and bad enough to do. Huh. I miss my freedom. Hey, I miss my hair! They cut all my hair off yesterday. Shaved every hair off my body except my eyelashes, they plucked them out. They made me bathe with some foul smelling soap, and then they rubbed some kind of oil all over me. Kinky. That was yesterday. Today, I sting, itch, and burn everywhere. I can't get comfortable no matter what I do. With all that aside, I just feel different today. The air is different. It's like the day before your birthday or Christmas Eve! Yeah! That's it! Expecting something big to go down! That's what I've been feeling! Anticipation! I remember that from the ketchup commercial. This must be the day! I don't really know what's happening, but maybe it's a big day or something.

Truth is, I know this isn't gonna end with a fat paycheck and a ride to the nearest bus station. Somewhere along the line, I figured that much out, but I didn't want to look too closely at it cause I know now that this is not something I can get myself out of. Somebody bigger and badder than me has got to do it. I don't know of anyone who can do it but the very one I don't want to ask. I mean, what have I done for Him lately? Is it too late for me? Momma would say, No, baby, it's never too late for God. But what did she know? He was too late for her! Yet, she still loved Him right to the end. She loved me too; of that, I have no doubts. Any sane woman would have gotten an abortion as soon as she found out she was pregnant from a rapist. But she didn't. She never held that against me either, I did it to myself. I gotta say when she changed and started living for Him, it really wasn't all that bad. She had hope again. That surely was missing in our lives.

Oh, what's that? I hear them coming. Sure does sound like a lot of them. I usually don't see more than two of them at once. Well, what can it hurt to try. It's not like I have a lot of choices here. They're here! Wow! It is a lot of them! Is that dude in the front? Haven't seen him in months. Hey, baby, your daddy's here. Okay, okay. Hey! You don't have to push! I'm going! I'm going! What, you can't speak to the mother of your child? I know we don't have a relationship and all you want is the baby, but goodness grief, you could at least say hi! Nothing to say? Oh, so you're the big silent type! You don't have to look so mean. What's going on? What are you going to do to me? (Okay, okay, okay, look, ah, God? If You are real, then I want to meet You, be cool with You, hang out with You, okay? So can You forgive me for all the dumb and stupid things I've done that You didn't like? Please?)

What are you people doing? Listen, you don't have to strap me down! I'm here of my own free will, okay!

Oh, Jesus! What are they mumbling about? A pure sacrifice to the Prince of who? Aw, man! Did they really say Satan? Natas! Natas! That's what they've been mumbling, Natas! That's Satan backward! Okay! Lord, help me! What was that Momma used to say—uh, uh, uh—oh, Lord! If I'm gonna die, I can at least try to get to heaven! Okay, she said if you confess your sins with your mouth and believe in your heart that He lived and died on the cross for your sins and that He's coming back again one day, you're saved. That's gotta be real cause I know I was high as a kite most days, so I couldn't have remembered that on my own. What are you gonna do with those! Ah! Oh, God! Jesus, I believe. Save me! Ah!

Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh. For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.

—Proverbs 3:25–26

Chapter 1

Ten years is a long time to allow pain to fester and fill with pus where the strongest antibiotic in the world can't reach , Samantha thought wearily. Ten years of therapy, numerous anointed preachers and pastors laying oiled hands on me, and until recently, the cloying, concentrated overdose of love from four wonderful Uncles. Still I take baby steps toward normalcy, but I've failed to reach the mark. That old Diana Ross number, Good Morning Heartache, that's my theme, though not exactly as the writer intended. My ache is charged by bitterness. My ache can't be erased with the love of a good man. Huh. I haven't allowed anyone close enough to smell my perfume, let alone to feel the love of a good man. No. My ache has a familial melody rather than Eros. It's encased with a thick layer of unremitting yet unwarranted guilt. Still knowing my angst doesn't get me any closer to being healed. Being strong enough to look in the mirror and see, really see