Date: Sat, 30 Oct 2004 21:41:16 EDT
From: Madasonaysha@aol.com
Subject: AROUND MY WAY chapter one   gay highschool / interacial

Disclaimer: This is story about love between two teenage boys, one black
and one Latino.   Although not a sex story eventually there will be some
scenes of that nature.  If that type of material offends you than do not
read.  Child abuse will be mentioned but not glorified.  It is a crime
and this story will present it that way.  Some Towns and Cities mentioned
are actual places in New Jersey but any resemblance of real people and
the characters are purely coincidental. This is my first attempt
at sharing my writing with the public and constructive criticism is
welcomed.  You can e-mail any responses to Madasonaysha@aol.com or
Madisonaysha@yahoo.com. I apologize now for any typos or errors.  I have
no editor and I did my best.  This is solely the work of the author and
cannot be duplicated without the Author's permission.



AROUND MY WAY by Madason

                                                        CHAPTER ONE

For the first few years of my life I was happy.  In the beginning it was
just me and my mom.  I never knew my father and to be honest I never felt
the need to  know him.  My mother was full of love and she did her best
to care for me.  She came from a small town is South Carolina were she
was the only child to a Baptist Minister and a Home Maker.  Her parents
were strict especially her father.  He didn't approve of his only
daughter dating an older man.  My bastard of a father and her ran away to
New York when she discovered she was pregnant with me.  He was twenty and
she was sixteen.  The first few months that they were there, times were
hard but they managed with help of my fathers family.  But things started
to change once he became more comfortable with living in the city.  He
started hanging out in the streets and missing work.  Being more
concerned with drinking with the boys than trying to earn a decent
living.  In the spring I was born.  April 14 to be exact.  My mom told me
I was a miniature version of  my father.  I had his same shade of hazel
green eyes and the same golden bronze hue to my skin.  My moms complexion
was a medium brown so she didn't expect me to be so light but like is
said I was the spitting image of my ass hole father.  She claims that he
was happy when I was born and ran around the neighborhood screaming "I
have a boy! I have a boy!".  Despite my birth, my father still didn't
clean up his act.  If anything his drinking became more of a problem and
the fighting between my parents grew more and more heated as the months
pasted.   One day she awoke with a note on the dresser along with one
hundred dollars.  The note read  "I am sorry..." and that was that.  My
bastard father walked out on us leaving a shitty hundred bucks for us  to
survive with.

That left us alone with my fathers uncle John who we lived with.  My
mother never felt completely comfortable around him  but she could never
explain why.  He would sometimes make subtle advances towards my mother
but she dismissed it as simple paranoia.  She never mentioned any of this
to my father afraid of what might happen if she did.  With my father
gone, John's advances towards her became more and more blatant until one
day things came to a stand still.  She was breast feeding me when he came
out of no where and grabbed her free breast.  Startled, she almost
dropped me in an attempt to get away from him.  He told her that he had
been patient with her for far too long.  He told her how he let her stay
in his house rent free and took care of  her and her illegitimate son
and now he wanted what was old to him.  She pleaded with him to leave her
alone but my mother was a tiny woman and he was twice her size.  Her fear
turned to anger and she slapped him and told him to get  away from her.
This made him even more angry and he hit her back.  The blow was so
severe that she dropped me and I fell to the floor.  He pushed her on the
bed and pulled her clothes off.  She tried to bargain with him saying
that she would do whatever he wanted if he would let her check on her
screaming child.  He said that I was fine and preceded to rape her.
After the rape, she gathered her humiliation, our few belongings and the
hundred dollars and we left that night.  I don't remember any of this.
One of my earliest memories are of us sharing an apartment with  a
Dominican woman named  Marie and her three kids.  I had to be around four
or five.  My mom and Marie were never  home at night so her oldest  son
would watch us.  Hector was fourteen and his brother and sister were
younger than me.  I was always a quiet shy person.  Even at that age.  On
one of these nights when Mom and Marie were gone, I was running around
the apartment playing with the other two kids.  I guess we were making
too much noise because Hector yelled for me to come in his room.  If I
knew what was about to happen to me I would have never went in there.
Hector was always nice to me.  In fact he treated me better than he did
his own brother and sister. Paying me a lot of attention. He would take
me out with him no matter where he went.  He would buy me candy and play
with me.  It was like he was my brother.  I can remember everything about
that night as hard as I try not to.  From the faint smell of mildew that
filled his room to the chipping dingy white paint of the walls.  I even
remember the coldness of the apartment.  The numbness of my toes as I ran
across the floor.  I went into his room,  just curious to see what he
wanted.  He told me to close the door behind me.  He motioned for me to
come over to the bed were he was sitting.  He asked me if I wanted to
play a game.  Hector was a lot of fun at playing games so I agreed.  He
told me we were going to play horse and he was the horse.  He told me to
sit on his lap and bounce.  I did as he asked and it was fun at first.  I
bounced up and down laughing at the grunting sounds that he made. Then he
stopped me and pulled my body close to his.  He held onto me so tight
that it hurt.  I told him he was hurting me but he said for me to be
quiet and it was just a part of the game.   He told me that I was really
special to him.  He told me how I smelled nice. He told me that he loved
my eyes.  I was staring to feel uncomfortable and tried to get off of
him  but he wouldn't let me go.  I panicked and started to cry.  He told
me not to cry and that he loved me and wanted to show me how much he
did.  He asked me to sleep in his bed that night.  I don't know why I
said I would.  I was only five and hector was almost fifteen.  He just
seemed so cool to me and I did love him so I dried my eyes and started to
get in with him.  He told me to take of my clothes and put on one of his
shirts to sleep in. I wasn't nervous getting undressed in front of him
because he was the one that usual bathed me.  His shirt hung like a dress
on my small body.  At first things were fine.  He just stared at me which
it thought was weird.  He asked if I could kiss him good night and I
leaned up to kiss his cheek.  He asked me to kiss the other one and I
did.  Next he asked me to kiss him on his mouth.  I did, but he held my
head to his and put is tongue in my mouth.  His breath tasted bitter and
had this awful taste to it.  This didn't feel right so I moved  away and
turned my back from him.  He started to rub me in places that no one ever
told me were bad but somehow I knew they were.  I started to cry again
only this time he ignored me and kept touching me.  I asked him to stop
but he wouldn't. He pinned me to the bed and kissed me again.   He was so
much larger than me.  His weight was crushing my small body.  I could
barely breathe. I was so afraid.  No one had ever done what he was doing
to me before.  His touches hurt me so bad.  His damage was so severe that
eventually my tears declined to fall.  I just laid there as my "brother",
my hero took away my innocence....

This went on for two years and each time it happened another piece of me
died.  My mother would ask me what was wrong but Hector told me if I ever
told they would take mommy away from me.  So I told her nothing.  I was
always a quiet child but after that , I almost never spoke.  One night
Mommy and Marie came home early and found out what Hector was doing to
me.  They both were obviously drunk and couldn't comprehend what they
were seeing.  Marie spoke and said "How cute Regina.  Chris is asleep in
Hectors lap."  They both laughed and went into the living room to
entertain the men that they brought home.  The next morning mom sobered
up and questioned me as to what happened last night.  She wouldn't let up
until I confessed all the things that Hector made me do to him for the
last two years.  She was furious and went into his room and attacked
him.  She was screaming all sorts of swear words at him as her fist
repeatedly collided with his face.  Maria ran out her room to find out
why Hector was screaming bloody murder.  She asked what was going on and
my  mom screamed "Your fucking sick pervert son has been fucking my
little boy for two years!".  I just stood in the door way looking at
Hector.  He tried to deny everything but his little brother Carlos came
in and said that it was true because he saw me rubbing on Hectors
privates.  Marie was disgusted with her son and the cops were called.
The police took Hector away.  About a month later when I was beginning to
feel safe again when god "smiled" down on me once again.  My mother
apparently got arrested during one of her and Marie's late night
outings.  She was charged with prostitution and possession of crack
cocaine.  She was sentenced to fifteen years.  Maria wouldn't let me live
with her.  I think partially because she blamed me for her son being sent
away for a year.  So there I was, a seven year old black boy in the
foster care system.

 My chances for finding a home were not good.  No one wanted to take in a
black kid let alone someone as old as me.  So they sent me to live in a
youth home in Newark, New Jersey.  That place was a shit hole but the at
least it allowed me to be closer to my mother because she was sent to New
Jersey State Penitentiary.  I became more and more reserved during my
stay there.  This made the other guys pick one me.  I was a small quiet
boy and because of my light skin and hazel green eyes I was a target.  I
focused on reading books to escape my torment.  Learning helped me escape
all the pain and suffering that I went through.  As silly as it sounds
when I spent time working out a math equation my mind became focused on
that  and I  forgot about my mom not being around me.  The rapes that I
had to endure  for the better part of my adolescence were distant
memories.  I was allowed to just unwind.  My intelligence granted me a
youth scholarship to St. Andrews school.  It was the top private school
in New Jersey.  There is where I was to meet the man who would change my
life.  Mr. Richard's was a middle aged white man with sandy blonde hair.
He taught English at my school and I instantly took a liking to him.  He
knew about my situation and would often engage me in conversations about
what was going on in my life. Sometimes he in his wife Jamie would come
to the youth house and take me to lunch or the park.  They were really
nice.  They had no children of there own and I would pretend that I was
there son.  Mr. Richard's or Dan as I was allowed to call him outside of
school had the same shade of eyes that I did so this helped in my
fantasy.  I loved them.  As the year was ending I was saddened by the
fact that I wouldn't be in Mr. Richard's class any more.  But the best
was yet to come.  During one of their Saturday visits they asked me if I
would like to come and live with them.  I was so happy I cried and they
took that as a yes.  Dan and Jamie lived in a very upscale town.  Upper
Montclair was the most beautiful town that I ever saw.  Unlike the mostly
black and occasional Hispanic person that I saw in Newark, Montclair had
people of just about every race.  Over that summer I was enrolled in day
camp where I met kids of every race and every one was so nice to me.  I
met Andrew that day.  He was a chubby dark skin black boy with the
biggest hugs and warmest smiles.  I was a little put off my his massive
body and dark skin. He looked like the type of boys who use to pick one
me in the youth house.  My fear of him quickly faded as he walked over to
me with a smile and said "Hi I'm Andy what's your name"?  We became best
friends after that.  I started third grade that fall and my quiet persona
remained.  Andy and I were complete opposites.  As to my shyness was his
brashness.  School for me was easy and I excelled.  They wanted to skip
me to fourth but Dan and Jamie didn't want me to be the youngest in my
class.  I still remained shy all through out elementary school.  By the
time I got to middle school I barley talked to any one besides Andy and
Wesley.  Wesley was a brown haired polish boy who no one talked to
because of his accent.  I thought he was nice so we became friends.  Andy
loved every body so it was the three of us.  We called ourselves "The
WAC  pack". W.A.C.  were the first letters of our names.  I know how
cool.  We were only twelve.  Eventually they became popular much in part
to the fact they both played football.  But they never forgot about me.
Life at home was wonderful.  Dan and Jamie were loving parents.  I asked
if I could call them mom and dad and they tearfully told me yes.  My real
mom was still locked up and it hurt me to keep seeing her every week.
With every visit the worse she looked until one day I asked them to stop
taking me to see her.  I still wrote her though.  The years progressed
and I was finally happy.  My parents had me see a counselor to help me
deal with the abuse that Hector inflicted.  I didn't feel comfortable
around him so after three visits they told me I could stop seeing him.
I dealt with the pain by swallowing it down.  The times with Hector were
just distant memories pushed to the back of my mind.  A part of my past
that I didn't have to go back to.

I had a great family wonderful friends. Even my grades were great.  Not
to toot my own horn but...toot toot.   Dan and Jamie had a lot of
music C.D.'s.  Mostly rock and roll albums.  Some were current bands
but they had a lot of things from the eighties.  From Pat Benatar to The
Smiths  to Duran Duran.  I picked up a love for The Smiths.  I really
related to their music.  Whenever I was feeling down their songs helped
me connect and know that someone else was feeling the same way that I
was.  I must have listened to "Heaven knows I'm miserable now" a
thousand times.  In my neighborhood everyone listened to just about
everything.  Its not uncommon for a black kid to like punk rock.  Now you
still had some that wouldn't listen to "white peoples" music but for me
in wasn't about that.  Music to me is about connection.   No matter what
type of music it is, if I connect with it then I listen to it.  For me my
connection came in the form of The Smiths.  I also loved current bands
like Linkin Park and My Chemical Romance.   Life for me was about as
perfect as I thought it could be.  I had a great parents and two awesome
best friends.  Then the summer I  turned fifteen god decided to "smile"
down on me once again.

Mom and Dad decided that they wanted to vacation in Brazil  for two
weeks.  They wanted me to go along with them but I had a job tutoring
kids that summer and to be honest I thought that they needed some alone
time.  It was owed to them.  They both worked so hard and spent so much
time raising me I felt they deserved it. Against my many protests, my
moms sister, my aunt Mickey came to stay with me while they were gone.
My Aunt Mickey is a real character.  Her real name is Michelle but she
prefers Mickey, like the mouse.  She looks nothing like my mom. While mom
has short dark brown wavy hair, Mickey has dark red curly hair that hangs
long down her back.  Mom is a soft spoke person while Aunt Mickey is as
loud a gorilla in heat.  Mickey is raunchy and vulgar.  It amazes me how
she can still remains so delicate and feminine while acting
so...so...unfeminine.  Mom and Dad left on a Monday and on a
Thursday we received a visit from an important looking Brazilian man.
Form the look on his face I knew that something bad had happened.   I
don't remember much of the days that followed.  I was in a daze.
Everything went in slow motion for me.  I didn't want to eat or talk to
any one.  Apparently my parents were on a bus touring  Porto Alegre when
the bus and it's twenty passengers were taking hostage by a group of
rebels.  These rebels were known for their violence and everyone was
assumed dead since no demands were made.  I couldn't believe it.  I
was so happy, so secure with the life I was living.  My parents were so
loving.  They were the kind of beautiful people that are rarely found on
this earth.  They took me in when I had no one. They loved me and asked
for nothing in return. So my life that was filled with safety and love
was over  and my new life was about to begin....

Copyright 2004