Gary Rezoni: The “stalker” she said took her daughter was a minor! #tyeshafenty #tyesha816 #crazybitch
Swagirl42: Nine times out of ten it’s the parents that did something to their own child. #numbersdontlie #tyeshafenty #guilty
RozayBlack: People don’t kidnap Black kids. Ijs. #tyesha816 #tyeshafenty
Keoni Badd: Her daughter is way too beautiful. If she did it, I hope she gets life in prison. #tyeshafenty
Channel 12 News: “…daughter still missing. Detectives suspect mother of foul play…” #tyeshafenty #newstory #C12News
the prettiest troll: Did you see how big her daughter’s forehead is? O_o #tyeshafenty #tyesha816
Stephen’s Wife: I normally don’t pass judgment before all the facts is out, but this just sounds fishy… #tyesha816 #tyeshafenty
I closed my phone and put it in my pocket. My mother asked me once more to put my seatbelt on so I just pulled it across my chest and clicked it in the socket out of respect for her.
When we got to her house and she was unlocking the front door in a hurry to get us out of the downpour, she noticed how red my eyes were from crying.
“Go upstairs and lay down,” she said. “If you need me just holler.”
My mother wouldn’t let me go to my house alone, as bad as I wanted to. I really didn’t want to step into her clutter. It was madness—madness I didn’t need right now. But I couldn’t say no. I was here.
I felt like a zombie as I plodded up her stairs, dragging my own feet. My clothes were wet from the rain but changing outfits was the last thing on my mind.
When I walked into the room that once belonged to me, the tears began again. This was the room I grew up in as a child. But now this was Kylie’s room whenever she came over to grandma’s. Almost all of her toys were pink, and on the walls were scribbled pictures of cartoon characters, trees, and even colorful stick figures she drew of us as a family—Rodrick was the tallest stick figure with black lines for dreads, I was next with scribbled black hair and a triangle skirt, and then Kylie drew herself with a smile bigger than the outline of her simple face.
By the bed, I dropped to my knees and put my elbows on the comforter, clasping my hands together in prayer. I pleaded with God to deliver me from this torture. I was babbling, snot running down my nose.
“I just want her back, Lord! Please, I can’t take this!”
Feeling lightheaded, I laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling. The bulbs around the ceiling fan were bright and blinding but all I could do was lay there and stare at the light, begging-wishing-pleading for this nightmare to be over. I started to hiccup as I cried, like I used to as a child. I couldn’t remember the last time I balled my eyes out like this. I wondered if Kylie was crying right now. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Not knowing made my bones begin to tremble.
My body couldn’t take anymore.
Then I rolled to my feet and looked inside the closet. There was a white jump rope with pink handles tangled around toys and stuffed animals. I untangled it and cut the ends off the jump rope with tiny pink scissors. I took a chair and pushed it dead center under the ceiling fan and, after unstrapping my gladiator sandals, I carefully stepped onto it barefoot, wobbling a little because the legs weren’t even.
On my tiptoes, I reached high past the wooden blades. The chair shook unsteadily, as I tied one end of the jump rope around the rod pipe connected to the fan’s motor. I pulled up the other end of the rope and tried to tie a noose.
But the rope kept coming undone.
“Dammit!” I fussed, sniffing the snot back in my nose. “How do you do this shit?”
I threw the rope down and let it hang, as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and did an internet search for “how to make a noose.” I memorized the steps, pulled the rope back into my hands and began tying it deliberately.
After I was done, I compared it with the internet image. It looked the same.
So I placed it around my neck and drew it up tight and secure.
My face had never been this wet. The tears poured down my cheeks, dripping off my jaw onto my T- shirt.
Looking at my phone again, I loaded up The Site. I stared at my status update box, trying to think of some last dying words that I could share with the world. Maybe I could post a philosophical stat to let other women know how precious their children were. Or maybe I could find a quote that summed up my love for my daughter and how I couldn’t live without her.
When I shifted my weight to my right foot, one of the chair’s legs cracked in half. I lost my balance, accidentally kicked the chair out from under me and my neck suddenly tightened in excruciating pain.
I was suspended in the air by the jump rope, thrashing my arms and legs deliriously.
It was only causing me to swing, the rope to tighten. I struggled for air, dropped my phone and grabbed at the rope around my neck. I was clawing at my own throat. My fingernails drew blood.
“
My eyes felt like they were about to pop out the sockets. I tried to stretch my foot, an effort to hook my toes around the bed post, but it was out of reach. The ceiling fan repositioned and white dust sprinkled down on me. But it didn’t break.
And the room began to darken.
Death began to close in on me.
My mother must have heard the chair smack the floor because she came bursting into the room. She quickly hugged my legs and lifted up.
“Tyesha, take the rope off now!”
I fumbled with the rope and finally got it off, falling over on the bed because my mother couldn’t hold my weight. I was coughing terribly. I wasn’t out the water yet.
“
Then my coughing started to get better.
“I’m sorry, Momma,” I wheezed out.
“Baby, it’s gonna get better,” she said, hugging me to her chest. “We’re gonna find Kylie.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“None of this is your fault. You just had a moment of weakness. Everything’s all right now. But from here on out, I need you to be strong. Kylie needs you to be strong.”
“I will, Momma.”
For the rest of the night my mother held me as I cried.
And she cried with me.
-
Tyesha816: God please forgive me…
August 20th, 10:27 a.m.
