All tagged abuse

Ariel Part 3 of 3

Right now I’m pregnant with twins. I’m only five months but I’m big as hell. People ride past me because they think I’m getting ready to pop and they don’t stop so some days I stand out there forever. I might just catch one or two dates. Sometimes none at all. 

Ariel Part 1 of 3

 I hustle and I work on Fulton Industrial. It’s how I make ends meet. It’s how I provide and how I eat. I don’t do this for a drug habit. I do this because most men that look at me like to have sex with me so I just charge them. I’m not a prostitute. I’m a hustler.


she’d beat the shit out of us, mainly me. I think she wanted me to be a boy instead of a girl. I think she was jealous of a five year old kid. Like a man would look at me…


I don’t know why but, I just couldn’t cry. But I was hurt, you know? This is my blood. This is my granddaddy. I looked at him and he turned around. I could tell that he wanted to say something. I don’t know if he was trying to tell me he was sorry or what. 


I grew up in a KKK family. I was made to drink beer at age six. I was made to smoke my first blunt at the age of eight. I’ve been abused with electric cattle prods, thrown into a stove, electrical cords… Most of the abuse was by my brother’s father. 


you ever heard of a whistler as a tool of punishment? I’d come home with a bad grade or if my grandma was just having a bad day… it was a piece of plywood that had holes drilled into it. My dad made it for her. 


After you come off that bed you would have to go into what they called a behavior control room, which was worse than a jail cell. There are concrete walls and a hole in the concrete floor. It is completely empty. They feed you through the door and you have to eat with your hands because you aren’t allowed any silverware.


It makes me rage for what my dad did to me. Throwing me through windows, putting guns to my head, saying he was gonna kill me. I’m two or three years old, trying to get to know my dad as a little kid and that mother fucker’s trying to kill me. 


I saw my dad one day when I was prostituting at the Bouldercrest Pilot in 2003. He called over and said he was looking for a girl. I said, “is your name Kenneth? You look real familiar. Sure enough, it was him.