My daughter and her best friend were in the back seat of the car. A man, who was black as coal, was driving the car. I had never seen him before.  I knew they were leaving. Running away with this man. A man I had never met before.

I sprinted to the driver’s side of the car and held on as he started driving, screaming at the top of my lungs. “HE IS STEALING MY DAUGHTER!”

He continued to drive away, as if deaf to my desperation. Slowly, but decisively, the car sped up and I had to let go, either that or be killed.

I needed help and I needed it fast. I turned around, running with the speed of panic, to the house of my daughter’s best friend. I saw a mutilated black truck in the driveway. The door to the house was open and I saw her best friend’s father approaching the front door with a force that would defy any reckoning.

I started to scream at him about what had happened to our daughter’s. He shooed me away. “I don’t have time for this right now, I have to deal with this psycho.”

I turned around and looked at an enraged woman who was approaching me with a mangled piece of metal from the truck. She took that metal and hurled it at my leg, slashing through my pants, drawing copious amounts of blood.

I kept touching my leg, screaming out to no one. “I am bleeding! I am bleeding!” I felt the shreds of my black pants disintegrating as they became saturated with blood.

Then I woke up and I realized one thing. My life is very complex and at times extremely difficult but it is a dream compared to this nightmare. Thank God for the dream I live.


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