BOOK DETAILS

Slightly Bruised and a Little Broken: A MEMOIR

Slightly Bruised and a Little Broken: A MEMOIR

by Petite Breaux

ASIN: B01B55MK38

Publisher CreateSpace

Published in Nonfiction, Biographies & Memoirs/Memoirs, Biographies & Memoirs

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Kindle Edition Free from 6/5-6/8

Book Description

Petite a young girl, young woman who went through life suffering from the pains and heartaches of molestation, rape, teenage abuse, domestic violence, lies and failed relationships. The struggles, being a teenage mother, a single parent, and making ends meet. Why keeping silent is not the answer. How she overcame, remained strong, didn't let life wear her down. She was determined to make life better for not only herself but also her children. Petite later went back to school and earned her Masters degree. She did not let her past struggles hinder her from moving forward.

Sample Chapter

At this time, I didn’t know what was going on with Christian or how he might react to my moving out without him knowing. I was sure in my mind that he would be furious and look for me. I had had enough of Christian and his beatings. I was neither his child nor his punching bag.

My younger cousins wanted to come for a visit. They lived in Oleander City, and I thought it’d be fun. There were four of them, ages ranging from around seven to the early teens. About a week later, my cousins were there, all settled in. I was still working and had one more hour of coding to pass.

I came home one day to find Christian at my new place. He was sitting in the living room, all calm, or so it seemed. The reason could have been that my cousins were there.

Looking around, he asked why I had left. I explained that I had to, that I could not take any more of his abuse or have my children scared and upset. He was jeopardizing my employment. I could not be seen with busted lips and bruises. I asked him to leave, and he did with no complaint. This was much scarier than when he had shown signs of anger. He was too calm—the storm was coming.

A couple of days went by, and I was working on my last coding hour. I did not complete it in time, and I was devastated. My manager came to me and explained that time had run out. I was not going to be able to continue working there. I cried and asked the manager to give me more time to complete the coding. What was I going to do? I had no money, just moved and no car. My thoughts were all over the place.

I had no way home, and I was let go early. Diesel did not get off until eleven o’clock, and it was then about eight o’clock. Diesel said he could take me home on his lunch break if I could wait. Hell, what other choice did I have? I lived about fifteen minutes from the job. I could wait.

I had one more paycheck owed to me. Until then, I would have to start looking for a new job and figure things out before summer was over and it was time for the kids to return.

A couple of days passed. I had a phone call from Diesel.

“How are you doing? Do you need anything?”

“Everything is fine; I just need to get a few groceries.”

I had nothing in the kitchen, and company was coming in from out of town.

“I can take you to the store.” He said.

He also told me that some friends from work were going out bowling later and asked if I wanted to tag along.

“ Okay, but I did not have the money to bowl.”

Diesel agreed to pay for me to bowl, and that evening around three, Diesel came to pick me up. While sitting at the traffic light, Christian and I locked eyes. He was sitting outside in front of his friend’s apartment. I could see something trigger in him, and, next thing you know, the light had changed and Christian was running toward the car in the middle of traffic, chasing the car barefoot. I said nothing.

Diesel had not noticed Christian until he caught up with us. Traffic was moving too slow, and my heart was beating too fast. I was praying the light would change sooner, that traffic would move faster, and that Diesel and I could just be on our way without any trouble. The pounding on the trunk of Diesel’s car startled him. Diesel looked through his mirror.

“What the fuck? Is that your husband? Do you want me to pull over so you two can talk? I don’t have time for this shit.”

Diesel looked over at me and saw how scared I was. “It’ll be okay,” he assured me nothing would happen to me while he was there.

Diesel pulled off the road into a gas station. Then Christian ran up on the driver’s side of the car and threw a punch at Diesel through the window. This made Diesel angry.

“I do not have time to be fighting,” Diesel said, getting out of the car to face Christian.

“What is your problem?”

Christian said, “You have my wife in your car.”

“I’m a friend and co-worker,” Diesel said. “I’m just taking her to the store.”

Christian, hothead as usual, pushed Diesel in the chest hard enough to make Diesel stagger. Diesel pushed Christian back, then turned toward the car hurriedly and put one hand under the car seat, searching for his gun. It was not there; he had left it at home. I was relieved the gun was not there. Things would have gone wrong, and someone would have been hurt badly. I was so scared I did not move and just stayed in the car. Diesel got back in the car. Christian raised both hands as if to say, “It’s okay for now,” and he turned and started running back toward his apartment as if he had something in mind.

This situation could have been handled differently.

Diesel and I continued to the store, and later that evening, we met up with everyone else at the bowling alley. For a moment, I had forgotten all my troubles and actually enjoyed myself. It was a good night. This night, I could relax; it was much needed.

On the way back home, I thanked Diesel for everything. When turning into the apartment complex and passing the pool area, I got a glimpse of someone relaxing on one of the lounge chairs. I was not sure, but in my mind, it was Christian. I did not mention this to Diesel, but on approaching my apartment building, someone came out of nowhere and slammed on Diesel’s car hood. Diesel had to slam on the brakes. It was Christian. Diesel did not stop the car completely but came to a slowing pace and kept moving the car toward Christian.

Christian continued slamming on the hood of the car and backing up. Diesel said he was not going to let me out of the car while Christian was enraged and that, again, he did not have time to be in the middle of this mess. He didn’t like how it would look for him. He said he would take me to the 7-Eleven convenience store that was on the corner. From there, I could call the police.

This is what he did, and he left, heading home. He promised to contact me the next day.

I got out of the car, went straight to the pay phone, and called the police. I explained what was going on and decided not to wait for them there. What if Christian followed us and found me alone at the store? I would be helpless.

I decided to run behind the store and cut through all of the other apartment buildings that led to my apartment complex, which was a good distance. Some apartments had fences six feet high. Some had iron rod fencing around them. I didn’t care.

I ran. I climbed over fences. On some, I stood on air conditioning units to get a boost so that I could climb over the fence. I just kept running and climbing as fast as I could. I had no idea where Christian was, but I knew he was not where I was. I was tired, and my flesh was stinging and burning from the scrapes and bruises left over from climbing the fences.

Finally, I made it to my apartment and banged on the door for my cousins to open. Once the door opened, I quickly went in, closed it, and locked it. I explained what was going on and told each of them to get something in case Christian came back to the apartment. Melik was frightened by my reactions. I sat him on the couch and told him not to move. One cousin had an iron frying pan. The other two had iron pots, and I had the wooden broom. We just stood at the front door waiting. I called the police again to make sure they were still en route. They said they were on their way. I was impatiently thinking, What is taking them so long?

Christian banged on the door, shouting, “Is Simone in there?”

“No!” my cousins said in panicky voices.

He didn’t believe them. He kept knocking on the door and turning the knob. They were all set for him. If he came in, they were going to jump him and beat him with the pots and pans. While holding steady at the front door, they heard a loud crash.

Christian had come through the entire glass window frame. He smashed into the hall wall and put a big dent in it.

Once up off the floor, he threw at me the porcelain duck that was sitting on a table in the hallway. He then charged straight at me.

My cousins had all fled out the front door, or all that was left of it. They left behind on the floor the frying pan and pots they had been holding.

What more could you expect from them? They were scared shitless, and they ran, leaving Melik in the apartment with me. Once Christian reached me, he started throwing punches with everything he had.

He just continued beating me in the face. I was screaming for Christian to stop, screaming for someone to help me. “Help me, somebody, please!” I was scared for Melik, who was crying and yelling out of fear, seeing his mother beaten by someone he loved.

Christian looked as if he were possessed. Nothing was stopping him. I felt I was going to die. I could not take any more hits to the head or face. I felt sick and nauseous. I drifted in and out, my body went limp, my eyesight blurred. I felt faint. I could not see anything. Blood flowed down my face. My eyes closed and I saw stars.

I could hear the neighbors. “Someone help her. Someone stop him.”

I had on a cotton baby blue top and pants outfit, which was now a red outfit. I managed to get up slowly to my feet, my legs weak and wobbly. I grabbed my baby and ran into the bathroom. I stood in the bathtub with Melik in front of me, hoping this would stop Christian.

Christian kept shouting at me to put Melik down. Melik was hysterical and didn’t want me to hold him. He wanted me to let go. He wanted to go to Christian. At that moment, Melik was afraid of me. He did not know this woman, so badly beaten and unrecognizable with all the blood. The poor child was terrified.

I kept whispering to Melik, “I have you. I have you, Melik. It’s okay.” I could not hold up much longer. I had been beaten in the head and face uncountable times. I had to put Melik down. I needed to lie down. Just as I did, the police came to the front door.

Christian ran to the front door to talk to the police officer. I lay on the bathroom floor, tired, weak, and nauseous. I overheard the police ask, “Does anyone know who had done this? Where’d they go?” Christian told them that the guy took off down the street.

They were not aware that I was still in the apartment. I managed to yell out a call for help. Hellllpp! Back here! When the police officer came to my side, I told him in a weak, soft voice that Christian was lying and that he was the one who had done this to me.

The police immediately handcuffed him. Another officer ran to where I was lying on the floor, bleeding from the face and head. Christian told the police that he was a preacher.

The police officer that was tending to me was trying to keep me alert and awake until the paramedics arrived. I just kept saying in a slow, soft, and shattered voice that I was tired, nauseous, and that I just wanted to go to sleep. The police officer continued talking to me and telling me that I could not go to sleep, to stay awake. The paramedics arrived, examined me briefly, and then moved me into the living room.

Once propped up in a chair, they checked my eyes, head, neck, and face. The paramedic asked if I felt what he was doing. I said no. He was tapping on a bone protruding out of my nose. He then asked if I had been hit in the face with a pipe or other object. I said, groggily, no, that my estranged husband had hit me several times with a closed fist.

Continues...

Excerpted from "Slightly Bruised and a Little Broken: A MEMOIR" by Petite Breaux. Copyright © 2016 by Petite Breaux. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Author Profile

Petite Breaux

Petite Breaux

First time author finding my place in the writers' world. I am a single mother of three and also a grandparent of three. Now that I have written my memoir my first book, my goal is to continue writing and being successful.

View full Profile of Petite Breaux

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