The Broken Survivor

Dyisha L. Lewis

Description

The megaphone for the silent, the muscle for the weak, the hope for the hopeless, and the voice for all to speak.
Haley Davis is a young basketball phenom with an almost perfect GPA. Haley is living a life we all dreamed of as teenagers, until everything changed. As a growing adolesent you put your trust into the ones put inplace to protect you. What happens when the people who are supposed to protect you become the people you need protection from? When the people you trust the most is dismissive, how do you even know you need protection? Can Hayley survive the battle, or will she be broken?

Sujets

• Young Adult Fiction
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 08 juin 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 10
• EAN13: 9798823009287
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE BROKEN SURVIVOR
 
 
 
 
Dyisha L. Lewis
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Dyisha L. Lewis. All rights reserved.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 05/27/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0927-0 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0926-3 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0928-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910282
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
1     Introduction
2     Something New
3     Trying to Forget
4     Trying to Survive
5     Letting Go
6     Betrayal
7     The Broken Survivor
8     Hold on
9     Picking up the pieces
1
 
Introduction
My name is Hayley Davis. At fourteen years old, I was a math genius (well, that’s what they called me), junior honor society president, and the best basketball player at Atlanta Prep Middle School. Female or male, I was number one on and off the court. I had more triple doubles than I had teeth. I’d always dreamed of being a pilot, until I realized you had to fly. I didn’t belong in the sky. So I focused on a STEM career, and math was it. I had to have a plan in case the WNBA made the biggest mistake and did not sign me after college.
My mom, Dr. Amiya Davis, was a college professor at one of the best HBCUs in the world, Clark Atlanta University, and a pastor at a local church. I thought about following in her footsteps; that way I could help and teach people. My dad, Charles Davis Jr., was an Atlanta police officer. Three years ago, he was killed in a bank robbery gone wrong. He fought for his life for almost six weeks. There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t ask God to wake my dad up. Eventually, I knew it was selfish to let him continue to suffer. Deciding to let him go was one of the hardest decisions an eleven-year-old would probably have to make in a lifetime. My dad was fearless and a humble man. He was a great provider and an even better husband to my mom. He was handsome, and most importantly, he was my hero. I believed in God, but I often found myself questioning his work after going through pain that only a father could help heal. But we’ll talk about that later.
Not long after my father’s death, my mom found out she was pregnant. My mom was so stressed and uncontrollably depressed about my father’s death that she miscarried what could have been the baby brother I had always wanted. After losing my dad and the baby only a few weeks apart, I expected my mom to go into total depression, but she did the opposite. She woke up every morning, made breakfast, and waited with me until my bus came. She planned a mom-and-me weekend once a month and told me that I made her stronger every day. Although, there were some days when my mom looked lost and broken. My mom did her best to make sure I had everything I wanted and was always happy, and most importantly, she constantly reminded me that I wasn’t alone and that she loved me. My life was perfect.
Well, at least I thought it was.
2
 
Something New
“Hayley! Hayley, did you do your math homework?” screamed Katie Kujeski (Kuh-jet-ski) from the other end of the hall.
“We graduate in two months, and you still choose not to do your homework? Here, girl,” I said hysterically.
Katie and I had been friends since she moved here five years ago. Katie was different; she had a prosthetic leg and burn marks on her face. That made her an easy target for bullies. The other kids picked on her, but I always stood up for Katie. Here we were now, about to graduate in two months, and our lives were about to get even better. High school was going to be the beginning of the rest of our lives—more sports; different people; more subjects; and of course, homecoming and prom. I always dreamed of going to prom in a big, puffy nude dress. I wanted to step out of a limo with my glass slippers and the most handsome guy at school as my date. All that would come soon enough, but I had to make it to high school first.
It was almost the end of eighth grade, and everything was coming to an end. My teachers were entering their final grades, and we were cleaning out our lockers. I had been playing basketball for only two years, but high school coaches were begging my mother to let me play for their summer travel leagues. I always saw myself playing volleyball in high school, but after I picked up a basketball, I never looked back. Before every practice and game, my mom told me that she was my biggest fan, yet she never attended any games, because she was always busy with work or the church. She worked all day and was at church all night. Today was the last game of the season and of my record-breaking middle school career. I led in points, assists, and steals—the most anyone had put up in any game since the school opened. I expected my mom to be there, but she never showed. The game was intense! There were seven lead changes in the fourth quarter alone. The game was tied, and there were eleven seconds left.
The ball was inbounded off a time-out, and the clock was running. I brought the ball down the court and dished a behind-the-back pass to Lynn. She shot at the buzzer. The ball spun on the rim for some time, and the gym went quiet. Everyone watched the ball as it ran circles around the rim. The gym was so quiet that you could hear the wind. After what felt like forever, the ball finally fell in the net for the win! The crowd got very loud as fans rushed the floor. We were champions, ending our middle-school careers strong.
At the end of the game, the principal stood at the center of the gym and asked everyone to get quiet and have a seat. We all sat while he congratulated us on our championship win. As he ended his speech, he called for two men to come out. They held an unknown object in their hands. As they lifted it up, Principal Barnes pulled back the cloth, and there it was. One of my jerseys was framed; they were retiring my jersey from the school. As I walked over to take pictures, fans cheered and chanted my name.
“You’re going to be a key player in high school, Hales,” Coach Meeks said after the game while I walked to the locker room.
I actually believed him. I just had to decide which high school I’d attend to further not only my basketball career but also my education. I loved sports, but every time I thought about school, I could hear my dad in my head saying, “If you don’t have an education, you don’t have anything to fall back on.” I had a few options, but I knew I wanted to stay close to home.
After the game, The team and I went to get pizza. We got the same thing every time we won a game: pineapple and sausage pizza with stuffed crust. We played a few games in the arcade. Then Katie’s mom dropped me off at home. This wasn’t a normal night coming home after a game. The house was dark, and the door was cracked open a little. I walked in and called my mom’s name twice, but she didn’t answer. I went to her room. She wasn’t there. I went to the kitchen, but it was empty.
She must still be at church , I thought.
I went to my room to put my jacket and backpack away. When I turned around to put my clothes in the laundry, my cousin in-law was standing in the door.
“Heard you gals won, and my favorite cousin had a triple double again!” he said.
We fist pounded. “You act like it’s something new,” I said, cocky.
As I walked toward the door, he walked in and closed it.
“What are you doing? Where is my mom, KJ?” I asked as I tried to push past him.
“Your mom is at a concert with the church choir. I’m watching you until she gets home. Tell me more about the game,” he said softly.
“Well, I have homework, so let’s—” I began to say, before he leaned in and kissed me. I jumped back and pushed him away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re so pretty,” he said with the most evil smile on his face.
I tried to run past him, but he grabbed me by my waist and tossed me on the bed. He slowly climbed on top of me. I couldn’t budge.
“KJ, stop ! Please stop! You’re hurting me!” My voice was raspy because his body was on top of mine. I was barely able to breathe.
“Shut up; you like it!” he yelled back. He began to pull down my basketball shorts.
I tried to fight him off, but he pinned my hands on the bed with one hand and put his other hand over my mouth. I felt him rip inside me. I could feel my freedom slowly leaking down my leg. It was warm, slimy, and painful. I could feel my heart about to beat through the skin of my chest. My breaths grew shallow, and my head began to hurt. I started to cry.
“I thought we were family,” I whispered.
I closed my eyes, and everything went dark. When I opened my eyes, the room was cold and empty. I cried again and reclosed my eyes, hoping I’d wake up and realize it was just a bad dream.
The next day, I woke up for school. I removed