Monday, November 21, 2016


MARKED AT BIRTH By THERESA A. CAMPBELL is available for purchase!!!

  • ISBN-10: 0997047321
  • ISBN-13: 978-0997047325

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  • Prologue
  • Clarendon, Jamaica, West Indies, 2010
     “Look at me with your ugly face when I talk to you, gal!” Burchell Pigmore roared, his big, rough, calloused hand coming down hard on the back of Bella’s head, sending her flying face down onto the concrete floor of the veranda.   
    Screaming out in agony, nineteen-year-old Bella rolled over into a fetal position, her scrawny legs pulled towards her chest. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she mumbled, tasting blood in her mouth.
    “Sorry? You are always sorry,” her father yelled before he pummeled Bella’s body with kicks from his heavy duty, dirty work boots. “You are too ugly.” He kicked her in the back. “Too lazy.” Another kick landed on her bottom. “You give me too much talking.” A kick in her side. “You have the devil in you.” Two more kicks in her back. “You are worthless, good for nothing trash.” A few more kicks to her body.
    Her body was vibrating with pain from the beating it was taking. Bella closed her eyes, transporting herself to her hiding place deep in the crevice of her mind. She was floating through a large, beautiful field filled with exotic flowers and tall, statuesque, scented trees. The luscious green grass under her feet felt like cotton balls. The bright yellow sun kissed her beautiful face, while the cool breeze tickled her body all over. Bella smiled and raised her dainty hands into the air, happiness and joy swimming through every pore in her body. I’m in paradise, Bella thought. I don’t ever
    “Get your skinny behind up,” Burchell shouted, bringing Bella back to reality. He reached down, grabbed his daughter by her slender neck, his fingers squeezing tight with all their might, and pulled her to her feet.
    Bella squealed and kicked wildly, but she was no match for her beast of a father. “Let me go, Papa! Somebody help me! Jesus!” But Bella’s screams went unheard in the small community as no one came to her aid.
    “Jesus? You think Jesus wants anything to do with your ugly behind?” Burchell’s fist rivaled that of the great Muhammad Ali when it connected with the girl’s stomach.
    Bella saw bright colored lights dancing in front of her eyes as the ground began spinning around.
    “I’ve enough of you!” He landed another uppercut to her stomach that felt as if it went inside and twisted up her intestines like a pretzel.
    Burchell released the hold on her neck and Bella grabbed her stomach and bent over, tears swimming down her face as she choked and coughed, sucking much needed air into her burning lungs. Her head pounding, her stomach cramping, and her body aching, Bella took a few baby steps as she stumbled away from her father.
    But Burchell grabbed a hold of her blouse bringing Bella as close as possible. With heavy blows to her body he proceeded to beat her within an inch of her life.  
    As the young girl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, with blood surging down her face, she slumped towards her father, losing the battle of consciousness.
    With a smirk on his face, Burchell stepped to the side and watched in satisfaction as Bella’s body crumbled to the floor once again.
    “That’s what you get for not listening to me,” he said, spitting a wad of tobacco spittle on Bella. “Worthless just like your whoring mother. May her soul rest in the pit of hell.” Burchell turned and walked into the three-bedroom house, slamming the door shut on the sight of his daughter’s unconscious body.
    A few minutes later, groaning in agony, Bella tried to open her eyes but they seemed to be shut together. She gingerly rolled over onto her back, biting her lips to stop the scream trapped in her throat. Her body was throbbing from head to toe. Finally, Bella managed to get one eye half open and glanced around, confused.  She realized she was lying on their veranda and the memory of the beating she took earlier came flooding back. Bella wasn’t sure how long she was passed out, but she resented the fact that she woke up.
    “Why didn’t you just let me die?” Bella mumbled through bloody, swollen lips, looking up into the ceiling. “Lord, why do you continue to let me suffer like this?” Tears seeped down the sides of her eyes onto the floor. “Mama, can you hear me? I want to be with you, Mama,” Bella said as she talked to her deceased mother who had passed away a year ago. “I want to die too.” But neither God nor her mother responded.