At the young age of seven, Raven found her mother dead on the bathroom floor, having overdosed on heroine. She knew she would never end up like her mother, but it wouldn't be easy to change her life circumstances, especially since she was suddenly and terribly alone at the age of seven. But Raven was always special. She was beautiful and filled with life; sometimes, she would even feel her mother's spirit watching over her, keeping her safe. As Raven grows into a young woman in the inner city of Toledo, Ohio, she eventually meets the man of her dreams, Calvin. As she soon finds out, though, you can't always tell a good apple from a bad one just by looking at its skin. Calvin gradually turns into the man of her nightmares, as their relationship spirals out of control and deep into the depths of physical and emotional abuse. As Raven's confidence slowly breaks, she feels her lively spirit breaking, too. Raven still feels the spirit of her mother, pulling her back to their family tree and the strong roots that raised her. Somewhere, Raven must discover her inner beauty again, hidden beneath the bruises. She must find the will to go on living, despite a broken heart. It is the strength of her core that will keep her alive and dreaming. The good apple that had some bad luck can still be sweet with a little hope, love, and faith.

Is a Rotten Apple Still Sweet?

By Red Angel

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Red Angel
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-6065-8

Contents

Chapter 1: How Raven Copes From The Loss Of Her Mother.......................1Chapter 2: Raven Grandparents Gains Guardianship.............................11Chapter 3: Raven Finds Love..................................................18Chapter 4: The Morning After.................................................28Chapter 5: Graduation........................................................38Chapter 6: College Conflicts.................................................45Chapter 7: Raven Life Turns For The Worst....................................52Chapter 8: Will Raven And This Baby Survive?.................................60Chapter 9: Is Raven's Workplace The Path Of Her Destiny?.....................661. "Set Me Free".............................................................732. "The Vibrations of my Creations"..........................................753. "The Feel of Confusion"...................................................764. "Dang daddy where are you?"...............................................775. "Red Sea,"................................................................786. "A Mother's Love".........................................................797. "Is a Rotten Apple Still Sweet?"..........................................808. "My heart Bleeds Ink".....................................................81About the Author.............................................................83

Chapter One

How Raven Copes From The Loss Of Her Mother.

On July 17, 1979 that was the day I entered this world. My name is Raven Nicole Johnson. I was born at St. Joseph's hospital in Louisiana. I lived with my mother and father in a small shoot gun style house in the city of New Orleans. The exterior of our house was of a faux red brick. We had two bedrooms, my room was pink and white. I had a flock of dolls. My favorite doll of them all was my rag doll. I called her Annie. She reminded me of myself. She had stringy curly hair. Her rosy cheeks featured little splashes of freckles across them. I dragged that doll everywhere I went. My mother had recently bought it for my seventh birthday.

Although our home was small it had a basement that my father used for his band to practice. My father Ervin Johnson Jr, was a talented musician. He played the saxophone for a jazz band, the "Knights of Rhythm," in a small town in Louisiana. I often had trouble sleeping. Because the walls would liberate of vibrations from all the sensation of my father's music. His drum set was midnight blue, with a shiny chrome microphone with the stand to match. Boy, I remember how much I got yelled at for playing with that microphone. I thought I was Mildred Jones. He kept his saxophone put up in a brown case. My father would stay up at all peak hours of the day practicing his music. He had big dreams of making it in the entertainment industry.

My parents relationship was like a rollercoaster. Up and down. I have to admit when it was up, it was great! But when it was down my mother was damaged goods. She didn't handle stress well. My mother Gloria Johnson was my best friend. Her pain frequently affected my feelings. When my mother hurt I hurt. At times I felt myself resenting my father for his unworthy nature. My dad was a womanizer. He was a fairly attractive man, light skin with big light brown eyes. His frame was rather petite. He was slim and short. Back then light skin brothers was in demand. He utilized his looks and his talent to capture erotic women.

My mother had a plaintive sympathetic nature. She wore her heart on her "sleeves." She was not good at camouflaging her dis-ease. She was never close to her family. Because she was a poignant victim of in-sex. She allowed her heart to be heavy. She never forgave her grandfather for fathering her. She was looked upon as a disgrace in the eyes of her family. She was always paranoid that people knew her forbidden secret. My mother was a creole women, that embraced her culture. She was a stellar beauty. She had tan brown skin. Her head flowed of black wavy long locks. Her lips was full and distinctive. Her nose was skinny and narrow. She was classified as a brick house. Everybody said I was her twin.

I found great pleasure in her creole dishes. My favorite dish was her Cajun gumbo. My mother was amazed from my tolerable taste buds for spicy food. She thought I was a bit young to process the spicy flavors. I love spicy food thanks to my mother. Because she made it so altruistically good. Not to mention her key lime pie, was gratifying. She lost touch with her family when she met my father. My parents married after six months of knowing each other. Four months later I was born. My mom was eighteen when she had me. My mother was a run away. She was only seventeen when they got married. My grandmother was surpassingly strict on my mother. She feared her being raped, like her. She tried isolating my mother but it made her escape at her first exit. Meeting my father was my mother's ticket to freedom. My dad was my mom's first companion. His appealing appearance, smooth talk and enchanting charm sold her heart. She instantly fell in love. My mother was ashamed of her father. I assumed it was her grandfather. I remember my mother being on the phone with her baby sister Ellen. She was the only relative my mother discreetly stayed in contact with. I only met her through phone conversations. I believe My aunt Ellen was also a product of in-sex. I over heard my mother on the phone with my aunt crying and sharing pain. They shared pain of growing up in torture, shame and physical and verbal abuse from their mother. Their mom made then pay the price for her own grandfather's indecency.

My mother was a very sweet lady that loved very hard. Although we didn't have a lot. I never wanted for anything. She was a jack of all trades. A talented beautician and she had a gift for sewing. She made stunning costumes for my father and his band. Their favorite was a silver and gold two piece pants and vest, made of sequin and satin. Holidays I got to wear my gorgeous siphon and lace dresses with beautiful satin bows. All custom made by no one other than my mother. She'll comb my hair with water and grease and tie satin ribbons in my hair to match my dress. My dad and I was all she knew.

My mother was extremely spiritual. She collected angels. Our living room was filled with angelic knick knacks. Pictures of white horses with wings hung upon the walls. The television stand held white candles in a tall clear glass. Every Sunday she'll burn a white candle for a peace offering. She loved reading the bible. She didn't go to church much, she claimed it was full of the beast. Her grandfather was a minister.

My father was arrogant and self centered. He was an aggressive user. He used women for money, even his own family for money. My father's parents lived in Ohio. They came to visit once a year to see me. They really cared a great deal for me. I was their only grandchild. My dad only had one sibling, my aunt Jill. My grandparents was eagerly annoyed with my dad. He took advantage of their fortunate life style that they earned together. He also was an impulsive liar. He'd even use me to swindle money from his parents. He'll lie and say I need money for school, clothes and etc. Whatever it took for him to get his desires. He desired women, drugs, money and music.

My mother was his personal puppet. She gave him whatever his...