Book excerpt. The Newfoundland Fluffer

Here is an excerpt from my book, "The Newfoundland Fluffer."

An abuser does not stop abusing.
A stalker does not stop stalking.
But a sadist? Well that's for life.

My brothers tried to kill me.

They didn't take a gun or a knife but my brothers plotted together to try and kill me or rather create an environment in which I would kill myself. Three old stinky men and their fish faced wives tried to kill me so sacred they were I would live to tell this harrowing tale.

You see dear reader I  was trained as a small girl. I was just a wee thing when  three  gown men molded me and groomed me and set self destructive bombs in my head designed to blow up on cue and take myself out.

My abuser humped me days and night and nights and days  and I thought that all little girls went to school with cold sores pussing on her face. And while my abuser went on to do great things become an expert in his field of Social Work publishing papers on childhood dysfunction and mental illness (a topic he knew a lot  about).  I descended into madness one breath away from death.

And when I told my  mother my abusers convinced her I was delusional and made her hate me enough to leave me to die on the streets of New York.

But I surprised myself I didn't die right away and my brothers and their wives got restless their well laid plans were not moving forward quick enough.

So they took stole my money in hopes I would stay down. They stole from me what would help me rise again afraid I might live. They made that decision as a family with their wives. 

Cowards.

But I did not die.

"Let's take her inheritance away and not give it to her so she can stay homeless on the street," they said to one another clinking glasses in agreement while their wives filled plates with raw steak.

And they say, "She's delusional. Let's have her committed! Your a doctor Mike, you make it happen you do it!"

Somehow  I did not decend into silence but I came within a hairs breath.

They become vexed. They stalked me happy to watch me walk the streets my mind decaying.

And still I did not die. 

But evil never counts on good. It is completely out of purview. And what the Godless never count on is God and my brothers stench Godlessness.

To be honest my ascent into the land of the living surprised me as much as  it must have them. 

Of all people, God found me and cradled my brokenness in his arms whispering healing breaths into my soul.

I am over here brothers three, see me.
I've picked up the pen God gave me. 
It's really more powerful than the sword so they say.
Shall we find out?