Category: Memoir Publisher: Dark Planet Publishing
ISBN-10: 1937632482
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 511
Copyright: April 30th, 2013
ISBN-13: 9781937632489
She went back in her life and visited dark places, places brimming with pain and scars, and eloquently revealed this pain to the reader without holding back anything.
“They Loved With a Closed Fist” is a memoir, documenting the journey that one woman took to break free from the vicious cycle of violence in her life.
What allows the reader to truly invest in this story is the author’s ability to be completely vulnerable. She went back in her life and visited dark places, places brimming with pain and scars, and eloquently revealed this pain to the reader without holding back anything. For this reason, the reader cared about the author’s plight. When she hurt, we hurt. When she was scared, we were scared. When she felt hopeless, we felt her despair. We cared about her plight and we wanted to know how things would eventually work out for her, which kept the pages turning.
Everyone needs to read this story. Man, woman, child—no matter the race, no matter the age, no matter the situation. This is a story that embodies hope. Similar to a white rose laying unharmed upon a bloodied battle ground, this story reaches out to the reader and says, “God is not a respecter of persons. If He did it for me, He’ll do it for you. No matter your situation, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. All you have to do is keep the faith and keep pressing forward. God will do the rest.” As long as I live, I will never forget Carmen Love’s story, and will carry her struggle and triumph in my heart as a reminder that if God bring me to it, He can and will bring me through it.
Excerpt
“This is what I think of you Carmen!” He hawked then spat in my face. Thick saliva trickled down the side of my neck, and he struck me in my head and told me to shut up.
“I told you to shut up. I don’t wanna hear another word out of your mouth!” He began to beat me on the side of my head with his fist. His slaps were hard, and the sting felt as though the imprint of his hand would remain embedded on my face forever. His punches were fierce, with the pain lingering long after he had been gone. He warned me not to speak and there was no remorse in his eyes as he consistently spat on my face every time I did. I looked up at him and tried hard to make eye contact with him, hoping to humanize him in some way. I hoped this would spark some kind of empathy that I was still his wife, his pregnant wife, and maybe he would come to his senses.
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