Disclaimer: I don't own Remember the Titans or any of the characters or real life people portrayed in the movie. Any events that occurred in this story are fictional and are not in any way connected to any real people hopefully. I am not making any money from this story, so please don't sue me and try to take away my Camaro. I do own Kimberley Harris, her mother, father (not the real parents of the real Jerry Harris) and stepfather (but I don't really want to own him), the Lloyds and Lana Kane. I want to own Ryan Hurst and Kip Pardue, but unfortunately EBay has not auctioned them off yet. ;)

Author's Notes: I want to say that all abuse is wrong: child abuse, spousal abuse, and racial abuse. It is EXTREMELY wrong and it should be REPORTED. This story contains all three, so you are forewarned. There also will be some objectionable language and racist slang from time to time. Ok, most of the time. There are also some sexual situations and some serious stuff that is a little shocking since this story idea was spawned from a Disney movie. That's why this story is PG-13. If you think you can handle all that bad stuff, please read on.

Author Info: This is my first ever fanfic, so please R&R. I have been reading all the other RTT fanfics and I really love all of them. All of my reviews of the other stories have been posted under the name Grace, so that is actually me! And thanks to everyone who has written. I would not know about disclaimer's and such if it wasn't for y'all!

Technical Notes: This first chapter is about Kimberley and Rev growing up. It is from Kimberley's POV. Some of the chapters will be from her POV, and some from the third person. Got it? Oh well, neither do I.

Chapter One: Reflections Of My Life

Somewhere between San Francisco and Alexandria

I never wanted to come back to Alexandria. In fact, my life goal was to stay as far away from here as I could. So many bad things have happened to me there I feel as if there is a curse on me. Part of me knew that even if I tried I could never escape my past.

My brother and I were born in Alexandria on February 8th, 1954 to Russell and Mary Harris. I was named Kimberley Grace and my twin was named Jerald James. Not long after we were born, my father died as a result of a riot in Birmingham, Alabama. Two white police officers beat him to death after he refused to leave a diner. His body was not even discovered until two weeks after my mother reported him missing.

A couple of years later, my mother married a white truck driver named Lenny Knolls. Lenny was the physical embodiment of the phrase "white trash". Although he was white, he wasn't accepted by the community, so he moved in to our house in the 'Burg. I never understood why my mother married him, but I know that it had something to do with money. He treated her and I like his slaves, and my brother Jerry like a whipping boy. By the age of six, Jerry was in the hospital more times than I could count. My mother did everything she could to stop it, but she knew that if she tried to leave, he would kill her. Eventually, he started hitting her too, but he never touched me. After years of living like this, with each attack worse than the previous on Jerry and my mother, finally the situation exploded and shattered our lives.

I was home alone one winter night, having just turned thirteen. Jerry was at the church where he often escaped to after school. He had become fixated on the Bible, and was focusing on becoming a minister. Jerry found solace at church, and he even seemed to forgive Lenny for the way he was treated. His friends, Julius and Petey, had nicknamed him "Rev" for spending so much time there. Even though I liked church, I couldn't be there too long before it started to make me feel guilty. My mother was at the factory working. I felt quite safe in the house, even though Lenny was due back from Florida late that night. I remember the shock that registered across my face when he stumbled in the front door.

"Where's your mama," he slurred.

"She's at work," I said softly while backing away from him.

"Figures. That stupid black bitch probably can't get nobody to take her offa the corner," he laughed. He kicked off his boots, and fell beside me on the couch. He put his face as close to mine as he could without actually touching me.

"How about you get me a little somethin' to drink?" Lenny breathed into my face.

I tried not to gag at the smell of the whiskey already on his breath. "I don't know where mama keeps the whiskey, sir." He always made us call him sir, even my mother. Not Lenny, certainly not dad, but sir.

"Then why don't you give me a little somethin' else?" he said suggestively.

"I don't think that's a good idea, sir," I said as calmly as I could while I tried not to run out the door.

"Why not? It's about time I made ya a woman an' put ya on the corner with your whore of a mama".

I was trying hard not to cry. As I went to get up, he pushed me back down. My head hit the hard wooden armrest of the couch. As I cried out in pain, Lenny crawled on top of me and put one hand on my throat and one on my adolescent chest.

"If I was you, I'd be grateful that your gettin' it from a real man, not one of those little niggers on the street".

As he tried to pull my shirt over my head, I spit in his face. He slapped me so hard it knocked me unconscious. When I came to about three minutes later, he had my skirt pulled up and my underwear pulled down. He was entering me right when my mother came through the front door.

Oh, my Lord!" she screamed. "Get off her right now, you bastard!"

My mother ran up to Lenny and started punching him in the face. He was so caught up in his own arousal that he just shoved my mother back with his hand. I started to scream as loudly as I could. Mama finally hit him hard enough to get him off of me. He hit he ground, got up quickly, and started chasing after my mother. He caught up with her at the top of our stairs.

Lenny shoved her up against the wall so hard that the picture of my dad fell to the ground and the glass shattered. He held her up by her throat, and told her to say goodbye to me.

"Run, Kimmy! Go to the Campbell's" she hoarsely screamed. They lived two doors down from our house.

I didn't want to leave her there, but I knew that I needed someone to help me. I ran breathlessly over to the Campbell's and pounded on their front door.

Charles, Julius' father answered it. He smiled when he saw me, then it quickly vanished.

"Mr. Campbell, I need you to call the police! Lenny is hurting my mama!"

He grimly looked over my head. He told me to go inside and call the police and lock all the doors. He ran down the street towards our house.

Once inside, I called 9-1-1 and screamed my name, address, and what was going on. I didn't even wait for a reply. I hung up he phone and collapsed on the ground in tears. I must have passed out from hysteria, because the next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with Rev by my side, his face tearstained, holding his bible and my hand. I knew instantly from the look on his face that our mother was gone. Words were never that necessary between us, since we shared that special twin bond, but just looking at him said all that needed to be said.

The weeks that followed were a blur. The funeral, Lenny's arrest and trial, not being able to pack our own things because of the bloodstains on the walls. I don't remember much about anything. Everyone says I didn't talk for the longest time. Rev stayed with the Campbell's and I stayed with my best friend Lana Kane. After Lenny was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, it was up to the same judge to decide where we should live. They sent Rev and I to live with our grandmother. After the first week there, I threw up constantly. While my grandmother suspected nerves, I suspected pregnancy. No one knew that Lenny had raped me. I had been too ashamed to tell anyone. After another month, I ran away. I had been taking money from Lenny's wallet since I was seven to help my family escape. With almost three hundred dollars in my pocket, I got on the first bus and headed straight out to California.

On my way, the bus I was on stopped just outside of the Arizona/New Mexico border. A white man who had been on the bus since I had picked a fight when a Mexican man tried to take he seat on the bus. One thing led to another, and they ended up knocking me to the ground. Once again, I woke up in the hospital. I had miscarried. Even though I had never wanted this baby, a bitterness filled me inside that consumed me whole. It seemed like white people were the cause of all my losses and tragedies. First my father, then my mother, and now my child.

Once I finally got to San Francisco, I took odd jobs and tried to figure out what to do with my life. I knew that I had to finish high school, so I enrolled at a local one close to the spare room in the diner that I had been working in. Eventually I moved in with one of my friend's families. They never asked too many questions, and just assumed I was like any other runaway who roamed the streets, which was so common there. One night I got up enough courage to send one of my many letters to Rev. I had only sent him one, with no return address, just to let him know I was okay. With this one, I left the Lloyd's return address. He responded within a week, begging me to come home. In his letter, he said he and our grandmother had been trying to find me ever since I left, which had been almost four years ago. She was terminally ill with cancer, and just wanted to make sure that I was safe. She thought she was the reason I had run away. Rev knew the truth now, after reading my letter. He begged me to come home, and let God take care of my problems, while they took care of me. At the end of the letter were the words that Mama always used to whisper in our ear before we drifted off to sleep.

"Jesus will always love you, and so will I."

I started to cry as I folded up the letter. I missed my brother and my grandmother, even though I barely knew her. If she could love me enough to want to find me after all these years, I could certainly go home and take care of her. Couldn't I? Could I?

After breaking down and telling the Lloyds everything, they called my grandmother and told her everything. She started crying and said that she wished I would had just come to her and explained everything. After talking to her for almost an hour, I asked to talk to Rev.

"Honey, I wish you could, but he's away at football camp right now. If you start home tomorrow, you'll be home about a day after he is."

A day. Five days and I would be back in Virginia. Did I really want to go back? Part of me said no, but part of me yearned for Alexandria and Rev. I knew I could not disappoint Rev. He was the only person I could never say no to. My grandmother wired me four hundred dollars the next day. Two hours and ten thousand thank yous to the Lloyds, I sped down Interstate Five in my convertible Volkswagen bug towards home not looking back, only forward.

So, what do y'all think? Please review and let me know if I should just stop and bow down to the people who can write better than me. Or you can be super nice and let me know if you are even slightly intrigued by this prologue. If you just don't want to review, thanks for reading anyways!