Marisa Readus - Breaking Thru The Bars

BREAKING THROUGH THE BARS

Identical Twins, Identical Crime, Identical Time

Alisha L. Readus and Marisa L. Readus

Breaking Through The Bars 2015 by Marisa and Alisha Readus

Brown Girls Publishing, LLC
www.browngirlspublishing.com

ISBN:

(Digital) 9781625176080

(Print) 9781944359232

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photo-copying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

First Brown Girls Publishing LLC trade printing Manufactured and Printed in the United States of America If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It is reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We would like to thank our Savior Jesus Christ for granting us the opportunity for change, and directing our paths through our journey.

We would like to thank our children for being the greatest inspiration in our lives. They have inspired us to do better, and to never give up on our dreams. They are the reason why we chose to write this book. What a wonderful blessing it is to be mothers to children who encourage us to do better and be better women for our family: Shantel, Rashard, Ramon, Asheera, Romel, Rasheed, Racheal, Roosevelt, and Reanna.

We would also like to say thank you to our mother, the late Linda Readus for praying for us when we were so lost and misled. Also, we would like to give acknowledgement to our father, the late Roosevelt Readus, who always believed in us. Although your time with us has ended, we know we were so blessed to have a mother and father who planted so many wonderful seeds in our lives. We thank you both for loving us and being strong enough to let us grow up, but kind enough to support us when we needed you. We were so blessed to have you as our parents.

We would also like to give a thank you to Lydie Barnette for being a wonderful photographer and working so well with us and our children. Her contact information: Facebook Lydie @ Lydie Barnette or by phone at 714-235-4248 for all your photography needs.

ALISHA

CAUGHT UP IN THE RAPTURE OF LUST & MONEY

Chapter 1

This was not the life I envisioned for myself. This was not the way I wanted to die inside a black four-door SUV, speeding down a dark, dusty road, getting the life beaten out of me by the man who claimed to love me.

But what did I expect because there were two things DeWayne didnt play around with his woman and his dope. And just as hed beaten the guy two weeks ago for playing with his dope, he was giving me, his girlfriend of six months, equal time in the kick-ass department.

Noooo, please, I screamed as DeWayne hit me in the face like I was a dude off the street. His friend, Snap was driving the truck, navigating the dark streets, acting like he didnt hear a thing. This was our normal, this was our life. I had accepted it from the day I let DeWayne lure me into his world, but I wanted better for myself, I really did. However, theres only so much a stripper can expect, right? My lifestyle came with fast money, lots of men (and yes, women) and even more danger. And DeWayne was as dangerous as they came.

DeWayne Money D was known in the streets for his money, aggressive attitude, and for his way with the ladies. And I was drawn to him like a crackhead to a bag of rocks.

Its funny. As I lay in that back seat, wondering if today would be my last day on earth, my mind raced back to how this day had all begun.

The July sun was doing what it did best heating up the streets of Huntsville, AL, and DeWayne was doing what he did best making money in true hustler fashion. He was closing up a drug deal like he was on Wall Street trading stocks. Despite the fact that he had just did a Suge Knight on some guy that owed him money, DeWayne was conducting business like he had his PhD in pharmaceutical sales.

Im not going to lie, I loved my lifestyle, but lately, my conscience had been a little more vocal than normal and on this particular day, I wanted to speak my piece. So I said, Babe, it was a little foul how you beat that guy. You know you cant keep doing people like this. It will come back to haunt you.

That sent DeWayne into a relentless rage.

Bitch, what did you say to me? he asked, reaching into the back seat with a quickness I never saw coming.

As he reached to punch me, I kicked and punched at him, but my blows were no match, and he put a vice grip around my throat.

Dont you ever talk to me like that! he screamed, shaking my 150-pound frame like it was a rag doll. I couldnt reply because I was struggling to catch my breath. Not that I wouldve had a chance to speak anyway because DeWayne commenced to beating me worse than the guy hed bloodied earlier in the day. He punched. He kicked. And I screamed. And cried, and cursed my conscience for not shutting the hell up.

Help me! I yelled to Snap as I tried to scramble away. Please help!

Snap just kept driving, his eyes straight ahead as if World War Three wasnt going on in the back seat.

Pull over there, DeWayne told Snap, pointing to a park with one hand, while the other hand held my long brown hair intertwined in his fingers.

Snap pulled into a parking lot and DeWayne loosened his grip. I was debating how to make a run for it when DeWayne spotted two of his boys approaching the now-stopped vehicle.

Man, whats up? the guy asked, leaning in to see crying, and me, bloodied up.

Nothing, DeWayne said, flinging my head down. Cept this bitch finna make me kill her ass.

I know I looked a mess. I tasted the blood. I felt my eye swelling.

And yet, his friend simply said, Yeah, these bitches aint shit.

In my mind I was thinking, Nigga, you aint shit if you can sit there while a woman has just gotten beaten up.

Everything inside me said get out and run. DeWayne was momentarily distracted, stepping out of the truck to talk to his friend.

My conscience said, run, escape, just get away. I inhaled, exhaled, weighed my options, listened to my conscience, and then told that bitch to shut the fuck up.

As I sat there in silence, my mind raced back in time, trying to replay the moments that led me to this mess. Just a few months ago my life was somewhat normal. I was an 18-year-old recent high school dropout who was just looking for a job. My employment search took me to a company called TCI, that manufactured computer equipment.

The portly, balding manager seemed interested in me, despite my lack of skills. I initially thought that he just wanted to give a girl a chance. But fifteen minutes into my interview, I saw that it wasnt my resume and job performance that he was interested in. He wanted to know my sexual skills as well. Although he was 30 years my senior, the man dressed nice and looked like he had more money than he knew what to do with. That, alone, intrigued me.

By the time the interview was over, it was time for him to take his lunch and he asked me to join him. We headed to a restaurant in uptown Huntsville, and had barely placed our order when he went in with the questions.

So, are you single? he said.

No, I replied. But I do have friends. How bout you? Are you married?

He didnt miss a beat as he said, Yes.

That caught me off guard because it was obvious he wanted to get with me. I expected him to lie simply because thats all the boys Id interacted with in high school had done.

Let me shoot straight, he continued, leaning in and licking his lips like he wanted to taste me right there in the corner booth, I want you. As my employee and my lover. Im willing to pay you more than my other employees, but Im gonna expect something in return.