While growing up amid humble surroundings in Roxobel, North Carolina, Alice Omoti begins her sophomore year of high school without any idea that one decision is about to change the course of her life forever. In her memoir, Alice details her childhood and adolescent years-years that are abruptly transformed the night she attends a football game with a friend. After fifteen-year-old Alice meets fellow student James Ruff Dog" Ruskins, she ignores a foreboding feeling and accepts a ride with him to a party. A few hours later, Ruff Dog rapes her, impregnating Alice with her first child. Left with no other options, Alice is forced to marry the man she hates with every fiber of her being. Trapped in a faux marriage ruled by physical and mental abuse, Alice unsuccessfully attempts to escape numerous times. But fifteen years later, just as Alice thinks she has finally discovered true happiness, tragedy strikes and causes Alice to question everything-including her faith. Black in My Rainbow shares the intimate story of one woman's unforgettable journey through the darkness of her troubles and into the light of God's love, where she finally takes control of her destiny". Black in My Rainbow A Memoir By Alice F. Omoti iUniverse, Inc. Copyright © 2012 Alice F. Omoti All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4759-5730-3 Chapter One On January 30, 1947, Otelia Bush lay exhausted on her bed, holding her precious newborn baby girl. Otelia's aunts gathered at the foot of her bed, arguing about the child's name. In the adjoining room was the newborn's father, John Nelson Hardy. Although he had not married the mother yet, he had already decided that if the baby were a boy, he would be named after him. If a girl, her name would be Margie. That was the final word. So Margie it was. That's who I was, and that's who I am to every family member who knows me, even now. However, when I started school, I found out the attending physician, Dr. Stephenson, had penned a different name on my birth certificate: Alice Faye Bush. Later, my school records showed my last name as Hardy. My mom and dad were married March 10, 1947, thirty-eight days after I was born. I remember my childhood days as fairly good times, but to hear my mom tell it, we were dirt poor and almost starved to death. She saw things from a different perspective because she was a grown-up. Living with my dad's mom, Ma Emma, did not help her mind-set. She hated living there with a passion. My dad's father died when he was young, so he became caretaker for his mom and three of his siblings. When he found out Mom was pregnant, he moved her into the house with his family. Mom did not like staying in such crowded conditions and wanted a place of her own. Living at Ma Emma's was like living at the Ritz. She was always baking tea cookies and doughnuts and making homemade ice cream. Every child in the neighborhood hung out on her porch, which seemed to go on and on and on, wrapping itself seemingly for miles around Ma Emma's house. A big chinaberry tree in the yard had limbs just right for climbing and enough leaves at the top for hiding. From there you could see and hear things that were not meant for a child's ears. When I turned five, we moved into another house. Although I was young, I knew we moved because Mother had had another baby. I also knew that the one room that Dad, Mom, my brother Josh, and I shared at Ma Emma's house was too small to accommodate our growing family. Our new house was a long way from Ma Emma's. To tell the truth, it was a long way from anyone's house. It was really far back in the woods. Mom would sit by the window and cry softly all day, and when Daddy came home from work, she cried harder. She said she was lonesome and wanted to live closer to people. So it wasn't long before we moved to another house. It was still miles from Ma Emma's, but it was not in the woods, and this time we were surrounded by neighbors. Still, Mom was not satisfied. I had a hard time trying to figure out why. She said she liked where we lived, but she complained that we might as well be living outdoors. Looking back now, I agree. The walls had cracks so wide you could see outside. Although Mom covered the walls with old newspapers and some wallpaper, the wind came through the cracks and the paper would tear and curl. Now, instead of crying all the time, Mom fussed. The minute Dad's foot crossed the threshold, she would light into him. She told him that since he was a carpenter, she did not know why we had to live like we did. I don't know how Dad stood all her fussing for the next six months because I was about to go crazy on his behalf. Soon after my brother Larry was born, we moved again. This house was a stone's throw from Ma Emma's house, so all was well. When I was about ten, someone gave Dad an old wooden building. He hauled it onto Ma Emma's property and fixed it up. It became a piccolo joint called Scobey's Place. There was a jukebox in o