I have read several books about the terrible life in several cities such as Sharquent’s story of growing up in South Central Los Angeles. To me it would be paramount to growing up in a prison but with freedom to do anything you want to do, especially if it was bad. If that sounds harsh I meant it to. Sharquent’s life during all of her growing up years starting at a very young age tells a horror story forcing the reader to wonder how anyone could survive such an upbringing. The constant abuse in and out of her home; a father that left her to hang out there in no-woman’s land; a mother that could care less about a rat running across the floor; drugs and alcohol available almost any time and anywhere; a life leading to prostitution, drug use constantly, and alcohol at any time.
Sharquent was one of ten children that mostly raised themselves, sometimes with the help of sugar daddies or gangs or supposed friends she met on the street. At the age of nine her brother began sexually abusing her. She was small bodied so could not and did not know if she should go to someone about this abuse that continued for quite a time. Until later in life she had no knowledge as to whether this thing her brother was doing was right or not until it went on for too long a time. The mother fed these children by dumpster diving, going through trashcans, and taking home for her kids anything to eat whether good or spoiled. It is a wonder that they survived the so-called food they were raised with.