ͳat phrase will scare oĉ any black guy (except
Obama . . . maybe). He left so fast, he didn’t even get his
clothes and shoes and other stuff he had left at my place.
Once he left, my anger subsided, and the sadness came
back. I was just devastated. This hurt so much.
He kept blowing up my phone. I ignored him. ͳen he
got his mama, his grandmama, his aunties, all these people
in his family to start calling me. ͳey laid the guilt on thick,
telling me that “You destroying him. He loves you so much.
He’s so depressed. He can’t function without you.”
I never told them that he cheated on me or that he made
this sex tape or anything like that. I don’t know why. As
much bad as he’d done to me, I just didn’t want to do that. I
knew how much they put him on a pedestal. ͳey really
loved him. I didn’t want to destroy that.
But they kept bothering me about him, making me feel
like it was my fault. I know he didn’t tell them about all the
shit he’d done to me. ͳen Anna pointed out some real
obvious shit that I’d missed.
Anna: “Why you lettin’ him hide his dirty shit? You
should make everybody in that family fucking pay.
ͳey knew about that bitch. If the little sister knew,
they ALL knew. ͳey knew what the fuck he was
doing. They knew.”She was right. ͳey had to know. Ain’t no way the only
person in the family to know the truth is some eight-year-
old girl.