Copyright © 2019 by Stacii Lewis.

ISBN:                Softcover                978-1-7960-2297-1

                          eBook                     978-1-7960-2296-4

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Rev. date: 03/28/2019

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5   Job Corps

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 1

How it all began

The year is 1974 … when it all began

My Mom, a beautiful and free spirited woman born and raised in Kentville, Nova Scotia—Canada. Tall and slim with the most attractive face in the universe. She and my Dad met in Canada while dad was on the road. He played guitar in a 70s band. He wasn’t too far from good looking himself. Tall and slim, with a well picked Afro and pork chop sideburns. The ole’ Boy was a smooth talking, guitar playing, ladies’ man. He spotted Mom in the crowd. Pointed her out and locked in on her beauty. They fell in love at first sight. He asked her to move to Miami. She moved with no hesitation. She was very happy to live somewhere where it was very warm all year round, instead of the ice cold Canadian country with long winters.

Now, it is 1976 and the 9th day of October when I made my entrance into this big ole’ universe, born at Mount Sinai Hospital in Miami Beach Florida. Mom and Dad were living the happy life together. They were very much in love. Dad treated Mom like the Queen she was.

2 years later it is 1978. I was 2 years old and my older brother Ben was 3 years old. My Dad was off at work and my Mom stayed home with us. The phone rang. Mom was having what seemed to be a normal conversation. Suddenly the conversation turn into a hostile argument. I watched Mom from a distance while I played with my toys on the floor and Ben watched cartoons on TV. Mom walked back and forth as the argument became very loud. Using every curse word in the book Mom paced back and forth faster and faster, yelling louder and louder saying You’re not going to do nothing! I’m not going anywhere! I’m not leaving! Mom slammed the phone down real hard. She came over to my brother and I, hugged us, told us everything was going to be alright, and then kissed both of us on our foreheads. Two hours later there was loud knocking at the front door.

Mom had me sitting in her lap. She stood up and put me on the floor, kissed me on the cheek then went the door. Who is it?

Mom asked. The muffled voice on the other side answered. It was the lady who was arguing with Mom on the phone. Mom opened the door. It was a short black ugly lady with a mean looking scowl on her face. Mom asked her What do you want?

The lady became loud and hostile as she reached into her purse and pulled out a chrome 38 special revolver. Mom tried to run and protect us thinking the ugly lady came to kill us. It wasn’t us she wanted, it was Mom she wanted. She shot Mom 4 times in the back, as we watched in shock. Little boys not really knowing what was going on. I knew Mom was hurt. My Brother had this evil look on his face staring down the ugly black lady in the face showing no fear.

The ugly black lady acted like she had no care in the world as she stood there looking at us like she was waiting on something.

Ten minutes later I heard police sirens. They were getting closer and closer. She just stood on the porch with the gun still in her hand. She looked like she was in a daze! The ugly lady continued to act like she had no care in the world as she stood there looking at us, like she was waiting on something. The police sirens was sounding closer and closer. The police ran up to the second floor guns drawn, Put the gun on the ground, they yelled out. She complied, placed her gun on the ground slowly, and then placed her hands on her head. They ran nice, grabbed the gun and then cuffed her. They put her in the car and drove her away. The paramedics rushed in trying to revive Mom. But they couldn’t revive her. They placed her on the stretcher and flew down the two flights of stairs to the ambulance, put Mom in the back, turned on their lights and sirens and rushed her off to the hospital. An officer sat in the apartment with us until my Dad came home from work. When Dad came home he ran pass the police to check on me and my brother. He saw we were alright and gave us both hugs. He stared at us with a look of deep concern, I’ll be right back, let me speak to the police he said to us. The police explained what happened to Mom and that Mom was in serious condition. There was a lot of blood lost. They told him things didn’t look too good. I have to see her, please keep an eye on my boys while I check on their Mom he asked the officers. The officer agreed to keep an eye on us while Dad went to the hospital to check on Mom. They felt for us knowing we had experienced such a traumatic incident right before our young eyes. Two hours later Dad returned home. The look on his face was as if the world had ended. He called us over. He said I’m so sorry, but Mom isn’t coming back home ever again. My brother and I just started crying. We really didn’t know what all this meant nor what was going on in this situation. Why isn’t Mom ever coming back?! At this point Dad began to explain to us who the ugly black lady was. The woman who hurt your mom was my wife. We are officially still married, but separated. She lives in the next county, Fort Lauderdale. She was my step brother and sister’s Mom, the lady who killed my mom.

They sent Mom’s body back to Canada to be buried. My Canadian family blamed Dad for Moms death. They wanted to kill him.

So, we missed Mom’s funeral.

Dad sat us down to explain that we were moving with our Grandma on 45th Street & 13th Avenue in the Allapattah area. I didn’t want to live there because grandma was mean as hell. I just looked at my Brother like alright. We packed up all our stuff and Dad dropped us off to Grandma’s house. We dreadfully pulled up to the front of Grandma’s house. She came outside, hugged us both and told us everything was going to be fine. Grandma showed us to our new rooms. We had our own rooms.

Some would be happy about that. Not us, Grandma’s house was way too spooky to sleep in a room all alone. The house was really old. It had rat traps all over and raid spray cans for the big flying roaches in the house. The house actually sat on cement blocks to support the weight of it. Our Aunt Jennifer lived with us also. She was a bad drinker who loved alcohol. She would drink a whole lot, but she was real down to earth. She took me and my brother with her everywhere, even to the bars. Now that was fun to me. Everyone there treated me and my brother Ben like family.

My Grandma did not play when it came to eating all your food. If you got caught throwing her food away she would whoop you with a whip. Yes a real whip or a fan belt. I don’t know where she got that whip from, but it was like the one they used to tame tigers and lions in a circus. Time with our Grandma wasn’t bad. She taught us what it was like to be poor and how to embrace the struggle. Before we knew it, two years had gone by since Mom’s death.

It’s now 1980, I’m 4 years old and Ben is 5 years old. One day we were playing with our toys in the middle of the living room floor while Grandma watched her soap operas on TV. There was a loud slam from the front door. It was my Auntie Jennifer.

She strolled into the living room wobbling and stumbling. She was real drunk. She sat down on the recliner chair and laid her head back in the chair. My Grandmother said something to Auntie Jennifer upset with her being drunk in front of me and my brother. They exchanged harsh words. This must have been too much excitement for my Grandmother. She stopped, looked down at her chest grabbed her chest and tried to reach out in front of herself as if she was attempting to grab something that wasn’t even there. It looked like she couldn’t breathe. She dropped to the floor in slow motion, at least that what it looked like in my eyes. When she finally hit the ground, it was real hard. She just laid there, very still. Me and my brother Ben stopped playing with our toys and watched. We knew something was very wrong with Grandma. We tried to tell Auntie something was wrong. But this time Auntie was way too drunk to know what was really happening. Finally, after us shaking her over and over again, Aunty Jennifer snapped out of it, jumped up and ran to check Grandma. Grandma just laid there on the floor not even breathing. Auntie Jennifer then ran to call the ambulance. Finally they arrived 15 minutes later. The paramedics rushed in and tried doing CPR. They couldn’t revive her. It was too late. They picked her up carefully and placed her on the stretcher, rushed her out to the ambulance, turned on the lights and the sirens went to wailing. Auntie Jennifer called my Dad to tell him what happened to Grandma. Not long after Dad came to check on us. My Auntie was in no condition to go to the hospital to see what was going on with Grandma, so Dad asked her to stay with us while he went. Dad came through the door 4 hours later with a very sad look on his face.

He called me and my brother over and sat us down to talk. He hugged us both then looked into our eyes. He went on to explain that Grandma went to heaven with God. I really didn’t know what that meant. I just said alright. Dad let us know that he was moving from his apartment and into Grandma’s house with us. We liked the idea of living with Dad again so we said alright. It was weird when Dad moved all his stuff in. We were used to living with Grandma by now. She was the only parent figure me and Ben had in our lives. Grandma’s funeral was the following week. The church where it was held was very big.

Grandma was loved very much. This big church was packed out for them all to see her for the last time. We then went to the graveyard for Grandma to be placed in the ground. This was a very sad day. Grandma was all we knew. But, at least we now have our Dad.

CHAPTER 2

Now it’s two years later. I’m going to kindergarten at a school around the corner call Allapattah Elementary School. We still live on 45th and 13th Avenue in a house far away from the dark alley that looks spooky at night through the eyes of a 5 year old. Now that was a fun neighborhood. We fought all the kids our age that had to come thru our block to go home. The older guys matched us up and made us fight to represent our block. It wasn’t all just fighting. The most fun was when we would battle it out dancing on cardboard boxes. We had no video games or anything that cost money. But the homie across the way had an Atari. I’d go over there with him just to play with his Atari. I’d eat there too. My Dad was real petty, we wasn’t allowed to eat too much or dad would snap when he came home from work.

My Dad was very abusive. I mean worse than Grandma. Remember, Grandma beat us with the same whip they used to tame damn lions and tigers. Don’t forget about that fan belt either. My Dad, however, beat us with a broomstick broken into 3 pieces, wrapped in duct tape. He also had Rufus! Rufus was this thick leather belt. It was actually a weight belt. That was wild! When I look back on things now, my Dad was Crazy as HELL! Me and my Brother got beat for ANYTHING! From 1 dish in the sink to a single piece of paper on the floor. Other times he just made something up, a reason to beat us. We were told to strip down naked and he would beat us to sleep on our feet, hands, and anywhere he could connect the belt to our body since we were constantly moving so much from the pain.

Our beatings went way too far. My brother went to school after one beating and could not sit down in class. When his teacher saw he was having a hard time sitting she walked him to the principal’s office. They called the police and Ben was examined.

When they saw the broken skin, bruises and whelps they called me out of class to the principal’s office. The police then examined my body. They saw that I was good. They put us both in the police car and took us to HRS, now known as DCF for kids. We were taken there and placed in foster care. We were moved to another family that did not give a damn about us.

They dressed us up good when it was time for the house and us to be evaluated. The check for having us was the only thing they cared about. We saw no money and they did not feed us good. My Dad was arrested at work. I just knew he would kill us once he got us back. But, for now I’ll live here where it was safe.

We were pure hell, burning up cats and any insects we could find. I should have known that we weren’t raised like normal kids or did the type of things that normal kids do.

Well as you know a few months later my Dad received us back somehow. And you better believe he tore the frames off us for embarrassing him and getting him arrested at his workplace. Now that all of that was out of the way, it’s back to school as normal. Let me remind you that me and my brother are only 5 and 6 years old. One day I went to the neighborhood store on 46th and 12th Avenue. I stole some candy. I had candy wrapped around my waist. I got caught by the store owner and of course he told my Dad. When Dad came home I was prepared for whatever punishment he had planned. He took 2 quarters, placed them over an open hot flame on the stove top. When they turned orange he had me open my hands, told