In The Beginning....

I am an 80's baby that's for sure 81 to be exact. I was born to two random people who randomly met. My mom had my sister when she was 19 and met my dad after getting out of an abusive relationship. She says my dad saved her from homelessness. She was living in a motel with my 5 year old sister and my dad worked at the Circle K across the street. He bought her groceries, then an apartment. She was 23 her was 21. Oh the scandal that must have erupted through both of their families. A black man and a white woman! Not that on the surface either side of my family is racist, but there is always some underlying irritation.
Two years later out pops beautiful little me! All 5lbs of me. I don't remember much about my early childhood. I remember being the whitest on one side of my family and the darkest on the other, and my best friend was my cousin Monique.(Still is) One thing I do rememeber is a lot of pain. When I was pretty youung my parents started doing drugs. It was all around me. Everyday. My dad was probably the least severe of the 2 just in the fact that he had to work. He was never home. Ever. So that left my mom there alone with me and my sister. When she wasn't at work she was holed up in her room. So my sister raised me for a good part of my early years. My mom had a lot of anger in those days. I don't know if it was the drugs or just the trauma of her days before Dad that haunted her, but me and my sister paid for it in bruises. I'm not sure what we did or what we didn't do to deserve it, but when my mom was on one it was best to not be near. Hands, shoes, belts, sticks, whatever was handy was used to knock the shit out of us. With my sister my mom favored the shoe. With me it was fists. I think I was about 7 the first time I remember being hit. Sat down in a chair and punched. I think I had lied about something reall stupid. I remember Monique standing there watching helplessly as it happened.
I clung to my sister hard during these times. Always sneaking into her room to sleep with her. She would make me rub her feet if i wanted to sleep in her room. She had those really big blush brushes and thats what I would use. I felt safe with my sister. She was my protector, my idol. She would step in and take and occassional hit for me. Her and my parents didn't get a long at all ever, and when she was about 15 or 16 she moved out and went to live with one of my aunts. That's when my life as I know it truly began.........