“Lord, please just let me make it home.”
Chyna chants as she hangs the curves of the interstate.
She fights to holds her eyes open. She is reviewing rules and regulations of driving in her head, to confirm that although she is inebriated, she is still very much coherent.
Chyna, now shaking her legs as she realizes the nearer she gets to the house, the more her urge grows to pee.
She skids into the driveway and parks recklessly. With cup and Prada bag in one hand, keys in the other, she races up to the door. In fear of peeing her pants, she opens the door and drops everything a few steps in. Barely making it to the bathroom door, she starts to feel the warmth running down her leg...
“Fuggit.” She sighs in relief just to be home.
Chyna makes it to her bed, flops down with clothes still on, and passes out.
She reflects on her past in a dream…
“Go warm ya bruvah up something to eat and bring me a beer back,” said Jake with his normal scheming look.
Chyna went into the bright yet dull country kitchen filled with so much needful clutter. She made her way to the stove, and then to the microwave.
While the food was heating up for the 4-year old brother, Chyna went towards the back of the house to check on the other siblings. They appeared to be jumping on the bed quietly while making silent jokes, as they knew not to be too loud and upset Jake. Normally, if he heard sounds of excitement, he would always replace it with the opposite of fun.
Exposed was Chyna’s youth for about 10 seconds as she tried to engage in the fun the other kids were having.
“Owwwwwww!” came from the kitchen, followed by an enormous cry. All the kids immediately wiped the fun off their faces. Chyna was terrified. What was that? Why is there noise breaking our fun? How pissed off is Jake that he was disturbed from his everyday 40-ounce ritual?
By the time Chyna made her way to the kitchen, she was forced back into the long and old-wooded hallway. Jake was smacking her, punching her, scolding her. Badly.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” She cried repeatedly. Jake beat her all the way down the hallway, back into the room with the other kids. The other kids grabbed each other in fear and watched in utter disbelief.
“You kids, get outta here. Chyna, you are on punishment. Why did you give that baby that hot food, knowing that it was too hot?”
Chyna’s face filled with question. What is he talking about? Why would I purposely burn my baby brother with food?
“Don’t turn these lights back on. And do not come out of this room for anything! You hear me?”
“Yes sir,” she whispered.
Chyna stayed in the cold and dark room, trying to figure out how to escape. This time for good. Chyna had run away from her mother’s home several times before, but her mother would always find her and bring her back. Chyna waited until her stepfather left to go pick up her mother from work.
She packed a duffle bag full of clothes and attempted to leave out the window when she realized she had nowhere to go. She ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone to call her cousin to meet her half way.
No dial tone.
Jake had unplugged the phone suspecting that Chyna would try to use it after he left. With no time to waste, Chyna darted out the back door, jumped the fence and hauled ass down the street. She did not know where to go but away. She ran until the streetlights became brighter and brighter. She was met suddenly by headlights coming from the opposite direction.
Her heart was racing and pounding. Did her stepfather see her?
Just as the car was approaching Chyna….
She woke up.
SHE’S A STREET-SMART DIVA WITH IQ OF A GENIUS…
Chyna's government actually came from the rapper Foxy Brown's album entitled "Chyna White". Her mother was a fan beyond explanation.
Somehow, Chyna's name played exceptionally well into who she was as a person. She was indeed of a darker, mahogany red skin tone just as the rapper. Her family origin was a mixture of Indian with a complimenting mix of both Caucasian and Afro-American.
Because Chyna grew up with only 3 older brothers and a younger brother, the limp in her walk sometimes gave off the wrong vibe, suggesting that she was only interested in dating the same sex.
Although Chyna was short and slim, her personality, hidden curves, and charisma made her irresistible to the opposite sex and envied by most of the females too. She often tested this gift by allowing homophiles to come onto her, just to politely advise them that she was strictly dickly.
Chyna Tamiyo White was born to Janet Little and Oscar White in the late seventies. Although a mute as a child, Chyna viewed the world very optimistically until she was about 11 years old. Because she was the only girl, Chyna got spoiled by her mother, father, and grandparents. She got lots of attention everywhere she went as Chyna had this “gift”.
She didn’t know how to explain it, she just knew that her entire family always bragged and boasted about her gift.
Overnight, the world grew to be a dark, lonely place. One cold, wintery night she had this dream that her grandfather was walking through this great white light. The entire dream, Chyna just watched her grandfather’s silhouette, trying to determine if he was walking towards her, or away from her. She quickly found out the reality…her grandfather was dying simultaneously as she dreamed. Her hurt grew thick. Her logic became complex. The rebirth of Chyna began.
She cried for 6 months consecutively as her grandfather was her best friend.
Her dad left her mother with five kids. Her mother moved on as well and remarried Chyna’s nightmare.
Chyna quickly gained a baby sister and the beginning of a lifelong terror.
Chyna’s stepdad despised the ground she walked on. He beat her about as often as he washed his ass.
Her stepfather, Jake was tall in stature. And although his body resembled a Slim Jim, Chyna was terrified of his every move.
He beat her until she was old enough to develop. Then he began his multiple rape attempts. Chyna tried expressing this to her mother repeatedly. But her mother called her a troublemaker….so much she started trying to live up to the accusation.
Stay tuned. Shit just got real…
What’s Done in the Dark: A Woman’s Intuition
My coworker, Martin, discreetly handed me the flash drive. He shook his head and said, “Good luck.” He reluctantly gave in to my persistent requests. Ethical programmers have an honor code they live by. I asked him to break it this one time, because I needed to know. I needed answers.
I tried my best to restrain my anxiety as I rushed out the office to my car, hoping no one would interrupt my desperate exit. I only had one hour to get this done before coming back to work from lunch.
The short trip home seemed to take forever. I finally made it home and pulled the car into the drive way with a screeching halt. I entered the house, threw my jacket on the sofa and went straight to the back room where Terrence seems to always spend his nights. I shoved the flash drive in the port, plopped in the chair and scooted closer to the desk concentrating on getting this done, and fast. The keylogger only took about 5 minutes to load. I logged out of his computer, removed the flash drive and headed back to work.
I was barely in my car when guilty thoughts began racing through my head. Really, Chyna? Has it come down to this? Do you really want to check out what your man’s been doing on the internet? Would you want him to do it to you? Do you really want to know? Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the door will slam open and yank your ass in! Are you ready for that?
“Yep!” I said out loud, as I pulled into my job’s parking lot.
Every night, he makes his way to that God forsaken back room, and every night, I’d go to bed alone and frustrated. His excuse was always he needed his downtime. He would say, “It’s sorta like taking a shot of whiskey to wind me down. Chillout, baby, and let your man have his down time.”
I decided to ask him again this evening to come to bed with me. He barely looked at me and mumbled that he had a few things he needed to do on the computer. I was more cooperative than normal. I knew the keylogger would tell me everything I needed to know… good or bad. Without arguing I replied, “Ok, boo. Do you."
I don’t know when he finally made it to bed. I woke up the next morning staring at the back of his head, as usual. Cuddling had gone out the window a long time ago. I showered, dressed and went to work.
After work, I made a B line straight home, desperate to get to that back room and to the keylogger on his glorified computer. Just when I walked through the door, he called me to tell me he would be late coming home. Cool! I’ve got even more time to see where he’s been prowling on the world wide web!
I headed to the back room and turned on the computer. I took a deep breath and said, “Here we go, girl… Let’s do this!”
As I read the keylogger, my heart sank and my blood pressure began to rise. I didn’t expect to see what was laid out in front of my eyes. Dread filled my soul and I realized that I’ve been living and sleeping with a fucking stranger, a crazy freak! I followed his digital footprints to all kinds of shit! From freaky conversations he was having with his ex’s, all kinds of vulgar nude pics from females, and pics of his penis he sent back to all of them. I could have dealt with all of that. I would have gotten complete satisfaction from cussing and kicking his ass out. But, what killed my insides… What ripped my soul and stopped my breath was nude pics of a young girl. Her familiar face stared back at me lustfully. Her one hand groped her young plump breast, while the other played with her privates. Her legs were splayed open exposing her everything!
I knew her. I hugged her. I invited her in my house. I fed her. She and my daughter had become friends. She even called me Auntie Chyna! He told me she was his play niece. I couldn’t help but believe him. She was so young, no more than 14 years old! I couldn’t look anymore. If there was more to see, I didn’t care. THAT was enough.
I grew sick to my stomach as I thought about my daughter, Chelsea. I have my daughter living in a house with a child molester! I placed my baby in harm’s way while dealing with a sick ass niggah! What the hell?? I was so angry with myself and mad furious with this son of a bitch! I started thinking about all the times I left them alone together while I ran errands and how Chelsea would plead for me to take her with me!
The chair slammed to the floor as I jumped up and stormed out of the room. All I could think about was Chelsea and lighting his ass up with his own Desert Eagle .50 caliber and watching the life drain from this crazy monster! He should have never told me where he hides his gun! He should have never taken me to range all those times! Because he’s about to die tonight!! Point blank… POW!
[Did you like Chapter 1? Look for Chapter 2. Stay tuned.....]