FOR SPEAKING ENGAGEMENTS...
ISBN 13: 978-0-9894869-2-7
Copyright © 2013 by Tanya Davis
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Whoever caused one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he was drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe to the world because of offenses! For offenses must come, but woe to that man by whom the offenses come…Mathew 18:6-8
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“Don’t panic,” Mama said.
“I killed her Mama, I killed her…” Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t breathing. What did I do? Why did I take her with me?
I had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl, Parisia Le`Marie Harp. She had beautiful brown eyes, golden brown skin and a full head of big curly locks. We were at the house napping that evening when the phone rang. It was Dray calling, one of the guys I got high with. Boy, could he get the best dope around, Crack that is. He told me he had just copped. At that very moment, my addiction began stirring up inside of me to get high. I whispered, “I have my baby and no one is here to watch her, I’m not able to come right now.” I hung up the phone terrified, because I wanted to take off like the Tasmanian devil. I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “Should I leave Parisia here alone or should I take her to the crack house with me?” A thought followed by a muffled but unmistakable command from a voice within saying, “Go! Go!”
In an instant, I immediately packed up Parisia in a lovely pink blanket, grabbed a bottle of milk out of the refrigerator, and ran straight to my car. I grabbed hold of the wheel and in my mind I was holding even tighter to a high I was searching for with desperation. The rapture of thinking about the high consumed me for a minute or two. While driving you would have thought I was in a NASCAR race just to get to what was about to be an explosive high, one after another. Quickly, I pulled up to Dray’s house. You could hear the loud sound of the brakes, and when I got out of the car you could see the skid marks on the ground, not just from the tires but from my feet, as they ran to the back of the car to get my baby. I grabbed her in one hand and my purse in the other.
Knocking relentlessly, pounding hard as I could. I thought, “They have to be here, where is he? I could not have done all this for nothing…” That’s when the door opened. A friend of Dray’s greeted me by saying, “Who you looking for?”
“I’m here to see Dray,” I replied.
It was in that moment I realized the hopelessness of my situation, but when he came to the door the pipe in his hand was fired up. Dray’s mouth was consumed with crack smoke and before I could say anything his lips connected with mine. He blew what was in his mouth into my mouth; it was a taste of what was coming next. My legs felt weak and shaky, and with the instincts of an addict I did the only thing that was left to do, and that was to sit Parisia in a corner and get to work.
I couldn’t wait for my turn to come. The sizzle of the crack that would rush inside my head was all that mattered to me. They passed me the plate of crack that looked like precious uncut diamond stones. My hands were shaking as if I was about to praise the Lord. I loaded the pipe, flicked the lighter and inhaled deeply. As soon as Parisia began to cry the rush hi-jacked my brain. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t react to the call of my baby. I took the lighter and lit it again, pulling as hard as I could to grab on to that ultimate sensation of a high. Her crying began to sound more like thunder. I heard the warning, but I was in my element and did nothing.
When I glanced around the room everyone was getting high. The smoke filled the room like a dense fog . That’s when Dray told me, “Get your damn baby, and shut her ass up.” The crying was messing with their high. Others began to say the same but in harsher words, “She’s $@#%&*# up my high,” someone said.
“Get your baby and leave… you can’t stay here with her Tanya,” Dray said.
I grabbed another one of those precious stones and flicked the lighter again and again and again, holding onto the cloud of life. It was the element that took me to a far away place where nothing on earth mattered. Still the crying was growing louder and louder and then all of a sudden…I heard nothing. What happened? Where was she? I dropped the pipe out of my hand running to her rescue. I couldn’t find her. “Where is she?” I screamed. “Where is my baby?”
When I found her, her eyes wouldn’t open and she wasn’t breathing. I asked myself, “What have I done?” I grabbed hold of my baby in her pink blanket that now looked like the brightest shade of red. She seemed to be on fire. The paranoia high had me tripping. Now the entire place appeared to be on fire. I panicked and ran straight out the front door screaming, “My baby is dead! I killed her…”
I put her in the back seat and drove straight to the house. I knew I couldn’t take her to the hospital; I was doomed to be arrested. I thought, “Go to the house, my mother will help me." It was only the grace and mercy of God that I made it to my destination. All I saw was fire on the car’s tail lights, and fire on the head lights coming towards me, and when the street light changed red, I rushed through it, because it seemed to be burning too.
When I arrived at the house, my mother was sitting on the porch appearing like God himself. She looked like safety. If I could just get into her arms, I knew she would make everything right. Every step toward her was like 100 miles away. When I reached her, I handed her Parisia and said, “Mom I think I killed my baby…”