AbeBooks Seller Since August 3, 2006Quantity Available: 1
AbeBooks Seller Since August 3, 2006Quantity Available: 1
About this Item
Title: Sinful Casualties
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Publication Date: 2012
About this title
Nayala James has it all - a successful business, loving boyfriend, Derrick and the perfect best friend, Veronica- but her happiness didn't come without a cost. The murder of her unborn left her comatose but with the help of God and love, she regained the power to live on. Before long, her joy begins to take another hit. Nothing and no one is what they seem, which she is soon to find out. Will her life remain destined for heartache? Will Derrick save her from her turmoil before she self destructs? Or are they all just casualties of their sinful ways when their lies become her truth?From the Inside Flap:
Introduction Nayala James I am tired of being single. There are plenty of perks, but dating guys I know would be good for no more than a quick lay, and clubbing three nights out the week, are getting as old as Jane Stream's original face. I want more. A year ago was the end of a three - year relationship. Mike was my baby for 8 years. We were unbreakable, until he started breaking me. First, it was a shove- then a slap. It wasn't long until I became his human punching bag. Mike always played it smart, as he would put it, and never hit me where the scars or bruises can be noticed. I have suffered more cracked and severely bruised ribs than any boxer or MMA fighter in history. When I was younger and the beatings first started, I would be so ashamed and confused I kept quiet about them. After a while, it became second nature - a fact of life. Neither my best friend nor neighbors ever suspected or knew a thing about my suffering. Although our relationship was tumultuous, to say the least, I was determined to change his focus from negative to positive. My naivete was my arch nemesis. Mike's occasional loving and protective side cancelled out the beatings and I began to question myself, convincing myself I was to blame. As time went on, the scars became internal; I became a distant memory of myself. One doctor's visit changed my mentality and restored my hopes and dreams. I found my out and was going to take it- even if it killed me. My name is Nayala James and this is my story.
Wings of the Angels 1997
Mike is the love of my life but he is controlling and possessive. I have to call him when he wants me to, answer every call that comes in from him and he will check my phone to make sure there aren't any unknown calls. Things must be his way or it was definitely a war. I put up with him because I love him. As cliché as it is, it's the truth. The fact I am carrying his child, our child, the decision to stay with him seems worth it all the more. I eventually find out love isn't a factor, at least on his part. Earlier today, I went out to run errands and missed one of his calls.
"Oh shit!" I say when I realize this and I immediately call him back but only to be greeted by his voicemail.
"Hey babe, I just walked through the door. I got caught up at the supermarket. If you can, give me a call when you get this message. I love you," I say and put the groceries away. Hours later, I am being awakened out of my sleep by a punch to my face. Talk about a rude awakening! It must've been 1 am; the time on the clock is blurry due to the open and closed handed shots I am receiving to my face and eyes.
"Bitch didn't I tell you to be here when I call you?" he says calmly.
"Why do you always gotta make a nikka do this?"
"Baby I was at the-" I start to say.
Mike cocks back and clocks me right on my jaw; so hard, the shattering of my bones could possibly be heard across the street. That is probably true, because someone is at the door and knocking.
"Bitch you bet' not scream! I will bust yo teeth out yo fuckin' mouth!" he says through gritted teeth directly in my ear.
He put his hand over my mouth to keep me from making a sound, but that is all I want to do. He applies pressure on my jaw as, pressing tighter and tighter. Puddles of tears start to form and begin to soak my neck and shoulders. A feeling of hopelessness washes over me as the knock on the door appears again. All I want to do was bite him, kick him or whatever I have to do to keep him from hitting my stomach. The fear for myself left my soul and I transfer it to that for my unborn child. I decide to not fight him back in any way hoping to give him no reason to continue his attack on me. I owe that person, whomever it was that was knocking, my life. Mike, not risking being heard, waits until the knocking ceases, by at which time, he changes his mind. He climbs off of me, using my face as his leverage and walks to the bathroom to wash my blood off of his hands. I jump to a seated position, and put my hand up to my face. I can feel the lumps and liquid on my face which is on fire.
"Oh God please help me!" I quietly pray for the baby and myself.
My other hand caresses my stomach. "Mama's gonna get you out of here." I whisper.
The sound of the shower going tells me this was my chance. I do not have time to pack a lot so I only grab a few pairs of underwear, a maternity dress from the closet and a few things for the baby. I slip into my, conveniently named, slip on sneakers and make my way quietly to the front door. The shower is still going and the mist is pouring out into the hallway. I throw the bag over my shoulder and unlock the first of three locks.
Why in the hell do we have all these locks? I ask myself. I frantically reach for the second lock.
I turn back to hear the shower still going.
One more lock girl! That's all. Just one more. You can do this!
I reach for the doorknob and pull the door to my freedom.
What the hell?
He put the chain on! My nerves are rattling and clanking as I turn back to see if he heard it but all I hear is silence. No running water. Nothing! I had come too far to turn back now so I unlatch the chain as fast as I can. As I open the door and head out, he exits the bathroom and stands in the hall, drying his hair.
He looks up and notices what I am doing.
My feet freeze with my heart not too far behind.
Glowing in the dark are his eyes, dark as coal.
My breathing heavies as I stare down the hall at the devil.
Mike's snicker of a laugh is even more evident I need to run.
"Oh! Hell nah! This bitch thinks she's just gonna up and leave with my seed?" he says, putting on his ball shorts slowly-intimidating me further.
In an instant, he turns and hurriedly charges at me. If his eyes are the windows to his soul, hell is a visible. Without looking back, I approach the top of the stairs and head down swiftly, yet cautiously, affording him the time to catch up. I reach the bottom landing but before I can turn the corner and continue, I am yanked back by my hair. I try to scream for help, however, the pain of my swollen jaw keeps me from opening my mouth.
"What, bitch? You thought you could just up and leave while I was in the shower? You's a dumb bitch! I can't believe I fucked your dumb ass!" he screams. I didn't have to scream because he was doing it for me. He tosses me to the side and I lose my footing. To prevent myself from falling on my stomach, I turn my body to fall on my back. In doing so, I bang my head on the railing and fall hard. I wince in pain as the back of my head clanks against the metal bar. He sees this as his opportunity and stands over me, shaking his head.
"Look at you! Pitiful ass bitch! You ain't so tough now! Are you? Next time you know to answer that damn house phone when I call!" he screams; so loud I am sure someone heard him.
I had never been so happy to be so right! Door after door begins to open. I cannot help but to crack a smile, well at least try. My relief and hope must show in my eyes because the next thing I know, a size 10 construction boot is in my side and banging against my head.
"Ha-ha. You wanna leave? Fine! Get the fuck out of here! That baby just ain't going with you!" he threatens.
The words expel from his lips with hatred, disgust and evil in tow. Tears drown my eyes and flashes of us smiling and sharing good times fill my head. As he continues to stomp me out I cannot help but think where we went wrong. Staring at him through blood filled eyes, I see the pure evil. How could he hate me so much? Why is he doing this?
Getting away was the only thing for me to do so dragging myself towards the next set of stairs is my only option. As I slowly do, the sounds of "call 911" emanate throughout the air.
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