Chapter One "C'mere, Tonya!" her mother yelled, as she passed her coming out of the bathroom. The woman's eyes focused like laser beams on her daughter's neck. Tonya pulled up her shirt collar in response, desperate in her attempt to hide the focus of her mother's attention.
Veronica Morris had forewarned her daughter time and time again about being fast with boys. "Stay away from them. Keep your legs closed. I'm not trying to be a grandmother yet," she repeated. But like any single mother raising a teenaged daughter, she was overwhelmed. Ms. Morris was as strict with Tonya as she could be. She made no concessions. Tonya was seventeen years old, and still not allowed to have a boyfriend, to date boys or even have them call the house. She was a typical teenager though; she found a way to do the normal things that young people do for fun despite her mom. Tonya had always managed to hide any disobedient act from her mother. That is, until now.
Veronica grabbed Tonya by the shirt collar and snatched her back into the bathroom to examine her in the light.
"What the hell is this?" she asked, touching the discolorations along the right side of her daughter's neck.
"Nuttin!...I...I...I was fightin'," Tonya stuttered.
"These ain't no damn bruises or scratches," her mother said. "You think I'm stupid? Huh? Huh?..." Her head jerked and she began viciously slapping her daughter in the face.
"You little hussy! You think I don't know passion marks when I see 'em?" She continued slapping her.
"But Mommy, I didn't do nuttin..." Tonya cried.
Veronica Morris was a heavyset woman, who was once endowed with a lovely figure, to match her face. But Father Time and neglect had conspired to rob her of her beauty. Her once shapely butt, thighs and hips were sagging under the weight of cellulite. The excess weight that she carried made her heavy-handed; she hit like a man. Tonya was dizzy from the punches against her body.
The mother beat her daughter like she was a stranger, hurling her against the bathroom walls, knocking down shelves and toiletries. She flung the girl to the hard floor and pounded on her back.
"You come home pregnant, heifer, so help me God, I'ma stomp it outta you!" she promised.
Tonya curled up into a fetal position, and wondered what she had done to deserve a beating like this. She let a boy pet and kiss her. And now she was getting the beating of her life.
Veronica was immune to her daughter's pleas and cries. She broke a wooden toilet plunger over the girl's back. She wanted to teach her a lesson, one she would not soon forget.
Veronica knew that there was no better time than the present to be a woman, especially a minority woman. The window of opportunity was wider than ever. She wanted Tonya to avoid the mistakes she herself had made. She became a teenaged mother and was robbed of her once promising future. She didn't want her daughter to follow in her footsteps.
The last thing she wanted was for Tonya to succumb to the soft touch, the careless whisper, the lies and deceit of a boy, who had vowed they would be together forever, only to abandon her in her time of need. No, she longed for Tonya to go to college, graduate, get married, make it out of the ghetto, and not get stuck in some menial job, living paycheck to paycheck. After Tonya's father left Veronica, she ate. Food became her friend. Her weight then ballooned to outrageous proportions, making her unattractive to most of the men around her, except for Pete. He happily accepted her and was willing to take care of her child too. Pete loved big women, even though he was 125 pounds, soaking wet.
Veronica could not look at Tonya, much less strike her, without being reminded of her daughter's no-good father, Raymond. Tonya looked just like him. The resemblance caused Veronica to feel, again, and again, the pain of a broken heart, the sting of rejection, and the words of a broken promise.
She had a live-in boyfriend but not even her relationship with him could heal the wound. Pete woke up when he heard all the commotion. Partially clothed, he rushed into the bathroom.
"That's enough, Veronica!" he said, as he bear-hugged her and dragged her out the bathroom. "You gonna kill that po' girl."
"Lemme go!" she pleaded. "And I will kill that hot heifer!"
When her mother was safely out of the room, a hysterical Tonya got up off the floor and looked into the mirror. She had a puffy right eye, a split lip and a bloody nose.
"I didn't even do nuttin'," she sobbed, and tried to clean herself up.
Tonya passed her mother in the small apartment hallway while heading to her room, and flinched. Veronica had almost forgotten that she would be due to show up for work. Shortly, she was on her way out to get to her job as a home attendant.
"Don't take ya hot ass ta school taday!" Veronica ordered. More than anything she was scared some nosy school official would question her daughter about her bumps and bruises. She didn't want to risk arrest on child abuse charges or her daughter being removed from her home by some child welfare agency. "I ain't finished wit you, Ms. Thang." That said as she wobbled out the door, off to another hard day of work.
Tonya went to her room, closed her bedroom door, flopped down on the bed and cried some more. She replayed the beating in her mind over and over again. After about an hour or so, there was a knock on her door. It was Pete with a glass of Kool-Aid in his hand.
"Tonya, you alright?" he asked, while he ran his eyes all over her body. Over the years, Pete had earnestly watched as Tonya's body began to fill out. As she was growing up, he would sneak a feel on her young body, under the pretense of horseplay. Seemingly overnight she had arrived at womanhood. The Morris family and close friends had often wondered what Veronica Morris saw in Pete. Other than the SSI disability check he received every month. He was twenty years her senior, and an alcoholic. But love is blind and he had caught Veronica at a vulnerable time in her life. She had just given birth to her only child, Tonya.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Tonya mumbled, sitting back down on her bed.
"You know ya mother didn't mean to do you like that. You know how crazy she gets 'bout you and dem boys."
"Look at my face!" she screamed. "She ain't have to go dat far. She coulda talked ta me. Shoot, she ain't no angel, her damn self."
Tonya loved that she could vent all her pent-up frustrations about her mother to Pete, and not have to worry about him repeating her comments. Over the years, he won her trust and became a valued confidant. At times he even acted as a go-between, squashing beefs they had....
"Tonya, you know ya mother only wants the best for you. She just goes about things wrong sometimes. But that's still ya mother and she loves you."
"Loves me? If she loves me, she sure gotta funny way of showin it. She beat me worse than a dog."
Pete sighed. "I know how you feel. Things did get a little outta hand. But y'all will get through this. Y'all always do. Here, drink this."
"I don't know 'bout dis time. Dis time it's different," Tonya informed him. "She ain't neva beat me like that. I'll neva forget it for as long as I live."
"Don't worry, you will. Just give it some time."
Tonya was thirsty and gulped the drink down in a hurry. Pete leaned up against her dresser and dug into his front pocket. He pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette.
Aside from being a chronic drunk, Pete was a weed smoker, especially when his woman wasn't around. He and Tonya had secretly shared a few joints together on several occasions. Tonya thought that was so cool of him.
"Here," he said, extending his hand. "you light it up. You had a rough day already."
Tonya took the joint and lighter, and without even thinking twice proceeded to do as she was told. She was about to receive a welcomed escape.
Unbeknownst to Tonya, this was not marijuana. This was PCP, angel dust, a hallucinogenic drug that sometimes renders the user dangerous or helpless. A novice weed smoker, she never noticed the strong difference in smell. Maybe she was too mad or distracted to question it. She just wanted to get high. So she inhaled the fumes.
"Hun," she said, handing the joint back to Pete.
"Naw," he responded. "You go 'head and finish it up."
"Okay, but you don't know what you missin'. This weed is pretty good."
Pete did know what he was missing. PCP could sometimes be a terrible high for first-time users. He declined her offer. He wanted to keep his mind right while he did what he planned to do.
The drug took effect. In mid-sentence Tonya's speech became slurred. She visibly began to move slowly, almost robotic. The joint fell out her hands and landed on the floor, as she fell back on the bed. She began seeing spots on the wall.
Pete picked the joint up from the floor and put it in an ashtray. He began stroking himself through his jeans. It didn't take long for his manhood to respond. Looking at Tonya sprawled out across the bed did the trick. The black stretch pants she wore hugged every crevice of her lower body. They were so tight on her thigh and hip area, it seemed like she was about to bust out of them. Tonya's above-average breasts pushed her bra to the limit. His long black rod reached maximum size, bulging out of his pants. She was a fine young thing, the kind that was always out of Pete's reach, even in his youth. He longed for this day when he could act on the sexual fantasies that he had for Tonya.
He undressed, then began to undress her. Tearing at her shirt and bra, he freed her breasts. Then he yanked her stretch pants over her wide hips. When that was done he climbed on top of her, kissing and caressing Tonya, like this was consensual sex and he was making love to her. He stuck his alcohol-laced tongue in her mouth, stealing a one-sided French kiss. Then he slowly ran his tongue all over her copper-toned body, leaving a trail of saliva, from her breasts down. Continuing past her pubic hairs, he reached her vagina. Once there he began rapidly flicking hi...
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