The Big Bad Wolves - Ronald Curry, Reger Curry, and Dr. Ravis Curry - The Devil's Trinity - Curry Family Abuse
Updated: 3 days ago
Boundary Notice:
If you are connected to my mother, Ron Curry, their family, their religious community, Ravis, Reger, or anyone within those overlapping networks, stay away from me and this website. I do not care how direct, indirect, distant or informal that connection may be.
Do not subscribe, resubscribe through another email address, contact me, monitor my work or use this website to maintain access to me. Anyone who does so will be identified and blocked from accessing this website. Creating additional accounts or using multiple email addresses after being blocked is harassment. This boundary is already in effect and is not open to discussion.
A note before this post returns:
When I first wrote about Ron Curry not being my father, that writing was entangled with information I received from Trina during the collapse of her marriage to Ron Curry’s youngest brother. My mother later claimed that this information was a lie and that Ron Curry is my biological parent. Her claim is not confirmation. I have no independent way of knowing whether it is true, particularly given the history of lies, withheld information and manipulation within this family.
If I ever decide that I want biological confirmation, it will come through genealogical DNA testing—not through accepting the word of people whose lies cannot simply be undone because they now insist that I believe them. I will make that decision for myself, on my own timeline. Regardless of what any future test might establish biologically, it cannot manufacture fatherhood, repair violence or create a relationship where none exists.
I removed the original post and allowed room for uncertainty. I eventually attempted to reach out to my mother again. What has happened since has made something else unmistakably clear: false information from someone outside of the family did not invent this rupture. Trina did not invent the violence I experienced, the coercion operating inside that household or the games Ron Curry and his brothers play while continually being protected from accountability. She did not create a family structure in which their behavior is excused while everyone harmed by it is expected to repent, apologize, remain quiet and restore access.
I recently contacted my mother for one specific reason: to ask whether she was able and willing to provide financial help during an emergency. I explicitly stated that I was not attempting to reopen the larger relationship. She responded by making help conditional upon religious repentance, apologizing to her and Ron Curry, changing my “ways,” submitting to their authority and calling them both. She reduced my identity to a “sexual preference” and then declared, “We are one.”
That statement clarified the structure completely. She does not understand herself as available for a relationship with me apart from Ron Curry. Any access to her must also restore access to him. Any boundary that excludes him will be treated as a rejection of her. Her loyalty to their union takes precedence over what I experienced, and their authority remains protected while every demand for repentance and accountability is placed on me.
I want to be unambiguous: my mother and Ron Curry are part of a cult. I am not using that word casually, metaphorically or as an insult. I am naming the religious coercion I have directly observed: material help made conditional upon repentance, obedience demanded in place of accountability, parental authority treated as sacred regardless of violence, and estrangement framed as sin rather than consequence.
I recognize fully what is happening now. I am not their child. Calling me “our child” does not create a relationship, restore parental authority or give either of them a claim to me. This website is clear evidence that I have built a life, language, body of work and entire world beyond what they attempted to make of me. I belong to myself.
My mother and I will never be in relationship. She will remain blocked. Ron Curry will never have access to me again. Whether or not he is biologically related to me, that man is not my father.
Trigger warning: This post contains accounts of child abuse, sexual and physical violence, emotional manipulation, generational trauma, alcoholism, racism, and other family-related harms. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
This post is dedicated to Trina Raines Curry, a real housewife of nada except confusion and chaos. She's the one who ran her mouth proudly and purposefully so.
The rest wasn't hard to maneuver when there was an African ancestry that was pulled that I was excluded from, also purposefully.
Little Red here, Amber, here to tell y'all a story of the truest kind. None of the names have been changed; their protection ends with me.
What does it mean when your mother hands your life, your body, your very existence, to someone who isn’t your blood—someone whose eyes see you only as a reminder that you were never theirs?
Curry family abuse: how little fat Black girls get lost forever.
The Track: Michael Franks - The Lady Wants to Know.
Warning signs are things that most people bypass because little fat Black girls deserve care that is lacking.
I wasn’t born fat. I was born to parents who believed it was their birthright to neglect me, a gifted neurodiverse child, which caused my body, over time, to protect itself.
The plot is really much deeper than that, and get this—I wasn’t supposed to know.
Ooops.
How do you heal your inner child, how do you embrace that which you weren’t supposed to know?
When your entire childhood was you being spun into a maelstrom of your parents’ purposeful, deceitful making.
I wasn’t born into intention, love, and care.
I wasn’t even wanted.
I was a mistake, a crime of passion, because my momma was trapped.
Finding out that my father - Ronald Edward Curry, is NOT the father. Thank you, Jerry.
I REPEAT: RONALD EDWARD CURRY is not the daddy.
It should be a big deal, but when you’ve spent your life being bullied and physically abused, being claimed as a piece of property, when your “father” has always been more foe than anything else, it comes as a relief.
I’ve spent my life wondering what I did that was so wrong to deserve this care.
It wasn’t me. It was them.
Ron Curry has also been stalking me here, causing every little harm he can with the minuscule technical knowledge he has in an industry that left him and his high school education behind. He has been part of my ongoing doxxing for the last five years: fake email accounts, reporting my posts.
So began the deep work of removing their violent influence from my life.
There are aspects of my personality that aren’t mine. They were seeded by strangers to keep me small while they stood boldly tall in their lies.
In high school, my junior year, Ron Curry choke slammed me against the wall, my feet off the ground. He meanty to suffocate me. His whoopins were always physical beatings.
A six foot three, deranged, football player treating my five foot six small body as if it were a linebacker on the opposing team.
That one instance was over a boy. I was an honors/AP student. That boy was my little escape from the hell of home and school.
He was black-out angry. No one saw, which allowed him to deny it. My mother and sibling often left the room when it was time for discipline.
He has physically harmed me, with this level of rage, ongoing throughout my life. I was always threatened and told not to tell anyone, that what they were doing wasn’t abuse. It wasn’t for my own good. It wasn’t.
Rebecca Curry started abusing me the moment I was born, because she allowed me to be born into a lie.
So she could protect herself, which she failed at miserably, and I paid the consequence. It’s no wonder my birthing story was so bad and I spent days in an incubator.
When she transitioned to Mr. Wood, the wooden spoon she kept in her purse for public lashings, she was harming me because she couldn’t harm herself and she was stuck.
There have been clear physical and mental signs of his abuse, but being a fat Black girl, no one cared.
I was left to care take for a younger sibling who was not my responsibility. We were staying home alone well before the age of 8, along with other neglectful behaviors from our parents that should have been held to account.
The fat Black women in my family couldn’t even find their way to caring for me without manipulating me. I triggered something in them—they were unprotected, and so I remained the same.
They used the distraction of a child’s body instead of holding him accountable for who and what he was.
A MONSTER OF THE REALEST KIND. BOOGIE MAN RON.
My own sibling would rat me out, so that abuse came to me and not her, more often than not.
Our relationship has always been non-existent; she has no ability to show love or any depth of care that isn't for herself. Our relationship has always been out of balance because she was their child and I was punished because I was not.
Barely 3 years between us and yet it was my job to care for someone who was never beholden to me in the same ways, what inequities does that create?
Family Ting
Anyone expecting that I should’ve come to them first is delusional and clearly doesn’t understand abuse or trauma.
We are cut from different cloths. I am nothing like you, and I never will be. You trying to convince me that I was everything like you, when I didn’t come from you, Ron.
For the record, I want something else to call these people. I don’t want to call them parents, or mother and father, because they were none of that to me.
They were two people who came together in chaos and confusion, and they somehow found the will to channel that mess into an innocent life, instead of sitting face to face with exactly who they were and healing.
Ronald and Rebecca Curry are codependent abusers. They need to be separated from one another.
All of their families and friends consigned on all of it. All of the creeps you hung out with: Kim, Wayne, Bill, Ron Hill, Wayne Lee.
Jackie, Gail, Maggie, Debbie, Tanya—all these so-called women in my mother’s life were fraudulent jokes as well. The audacity of you, Rebecca, to gossip about your friends and their children like they were beneath you.
When y’all were all collectively narcissistic and hell-bent on ruining your children’s lives, all so you could sustain a false ego and lie.
Rebecca Curry has been mentally unstable for her entire life. She has undiagnosed OCD, PTSD, and is a battered woman; she has been abused sexually and mentally.
If they only knew what they were abiding in their own household and doing to their own children on behalf of some man.
Rebecca Louise Curry used to tell me this story about how she prayed for me and that a homeless man on the street told her she was having a girl.
I have a feeling that this story is a lie.
How do you pray for a child when you are stepping out on your man, 3 years into y’all's marriage?
Baby Boomer Math
When a 31-year-old married a scamming 24-year-old and you thought what was going to happen?
Desperation—that is how you have lived your life, desperately.
I’m proud of my mother in that vein, but also embarrassed. It didn’t take me a year into my first marriage to realize what was what. Never been more proud to be a divorcee.
My patterns and behaviors are hers. Apples don’t fall far from trees.
Ron Curry whipped her into shape the same way he did me.
Every mistake I have made in this place, living this life, has been a duplication of the weak, captured vagina I came out from. Every lie she told, I told too.
My alcoholism came from her. Drunk on wine outside of people’s place of business. You were a basic lush—not just Jackie and Maggie, it was you too.
Rebecca Curry is a coward who has been abused and manipulated for her entire married relationship and decided that abuse and trauma are okay to absorb and then push into her children. It is not. You are deeply unwell.
She is deeply unfulfilled and was only capable of doing the things that Ron tells her she can do.
She is Ron Curry’s personal slave.
Frick and frack. Batman and Rob(b)in. Villains masked as superheroes. Not Vulcan but Romulan scum.
In order to be a captain, you have to grow, know, and evolve your own vessel. Captains aren’t self-appointed; those titles are earned.
You’ve never mastered yourself, you just placed every distraction outside of you so you wouldn’t have to turn in.
If everybody else is the problem, then you never have to be it. You're it. It was always you. You were the problem. You were the W(REC)K, Ron.
Rebecca means to bind, and she released every aspect of herself to you. You bound and manipulated her energy and still are.
She never escaped all those cults she claimed to come across in Denver; she just made one out of you. Ghetto trash made Hebrew God. How does that work?
My sibling, however, is their seed. Congratulations—it shows.
The difference in treatment between my younger sibling and myself has always been clear.
She was theirs, something to behold, someone they could pedestal and be proud of. Two babies with no sense of self or three babies with no sense of self. You and Rebecca are one and the same—always so meek and innocent, when underneath is the ugliness of who you are.
This is who they truly are, not who they’ve been performing to be for the last 45 years.
The folx who decided they could just cover their lies and lack with more lies and lack—that is the core of who they are.
That sacrificial lamb act that Rebecca Curry plays is a performance. She is everything that he is: corrupt, empty, and mentally unwell.
How does 73 years of undiagnosed OCD feel? You've been obsessive and engaging in uncontrolled compulsions about anyone and everyone except yourself, and it shows.
The bald spots in ya’ll scalps speak to the rotten mess of your insides. There’s no heaven waiting for you when you leave here. You made your choice and squandered heaven on earth.
The lack of intention and care you gave to me—it's now your time to wallow in it. I’ve had to work thrice as hard for second-hand nada. I refused to assimilate to their system and their violence, and as a result, I received the bare minimum.
Went through 5 or 6 trash cars. My first car died within a year because I was meant to pay penance with my life for Rebecca’s loose lips.
My sibling's first car, a barely used Toyota Camry, worked and served her well for 7 years before she got married.
When I wanted to move out for college, I had to get a job at Kroger while on a presidential scholarship and taking on more than a full load of classes. They did not pay for college or grad school. I did.
I had no help or assistance in getting through college; neither of them had any clue about an actual college experience because their mental disability made it so. Ron Curry edited my first draft of my thesis, and I had to be taken into a serious meeting where I was given a grad school editor because his ignorance was all over my work.
They pushed me to do what they weren't capable of doing, then spent the rest of their lives stating to me regularly that my degrees mean nothing to them and that they are still smarter than me.
Watching Ron Curry lie about the most absurd things over my lifetime, when there's no one to check you, and everyone just goes along. He lives in a world of deceptive imagination that he forces everyone else to live within as well.
My making it through higher education was of my own making. I was given no actual life skills from Rebecca and Ron Curry as an un-diagnosed neurodiverse child. They did nothing to prepare and accommodate my mind and body for the differences in how it perceives the world.
They forced me to eat foods that caused allergic reactions and created histamine intolerance. This is why I spent my childhood swollen. I have asthma; if I am not eating proper foods, I had an inhaler for a short amount of time in 6th grade, then they told me I didn't need it.
My period started the summer between second and third grade. READ THAT AGAIN. I STARTED A PERIOD A 8 YEARS OLD. This is not normal. Another huge red flag that they decided to celebrate, which pacified their ability to abuse me.
I had issues with bowel movements from birth, including one time where I pooped while sleepwalking as a toddler and I was punished and made fun of for it. This led to a major emergency surgery at 27 when I was living in D.C., which happened because of their lack of parenting. My appendix also had to be removed emergently this year.
Rebecca Curry feared my body and taught me to embody that same shame.
I think about how swollen I am in photos as a child, and no one ever thought to care.
What does it mean when your mother turns your life and body over to someone who isn’t your blood?
Someone who by default is jealous of you because you aren’t his, a constant, nagging reminder that someone else got their first.
You looked at me and all you saw was the lack of you. But I ain't of you. That projection was misplaced.
To be jealous of children, pathetic.
Every laptop I received for college and grad school was a left over of Ron Curry’s. Cursed with his porn addiction and his surface-level shallow understanding of the internet and tech(no)logy.
How’s Sytrends going?
Where's the website and the team of employees?
How’s that high school education going because that’s all you got, and your mental disability has shown your entire life. Getting a certification from Vandy or Princeton were distractions, that's not completing college. That's not following through on what your ancestors couldn't do.
Your loose and lacking work patterns speak to deep mental instability.
You are still the same lost 16 year old at 65.
My sibling was given any apartment she wanted while in college, she was allowed to quit jobs, she was coddled around everything. Never had to cook for herself or do her own head of hair—the comparison is clear and needs to be made.
Her care should have never been placed on me, at all. We aren’t even fully related. Yet, I was your caretaker while Becky was flying the friendly skies and Ron was who knows where. You treat that care like I owed it to you. That's direct from your parents. You have never extended equal care to me. You belong to both of them. I do not. What a blessing.
I was a reminder of something rotten in them, and it extended to the rest of my family members as well.
Instead of protecting me, they allowed me to be consumed by their lack.
Again, I will reiterate: I have never been more proud to not be from his spoiled seed.
Summers in Alabama being abused and exposed to countless harms by his mother.
The realization that my sibling is really my half sibling makes a lot of sense for how our relationship has not progressed, for the lack of care I have received from her always.
The realization that my cousins aren’t actually my cousins. The ways in which I have been placed as a caretaker for people that I would have no connection to otherwise.
The surveillance that happens specifically from his side of the family towards me is scary; it all makes complete sense.
By all means, please surveil and report this back to the poisonous lovers.
The fact that people were allowed to mold me, who have no rights to me. And everyone allowed it.
No one was honest; everyone was protecting themselves.
Relatives who I clearly felt no connection to, but who were allowed to cast their spells of lack onto me.
How do you embrace your inner child through 9 school changes since kindergarten?
I was never meant to be w(hole) and grounded.
They meant to have me outside of myself in more ways than one, because they were.
How do you explain a 6th grade year, that you almost failed, where you experienced intolerable abuse at the hands of a racist school (abusive family dynamics, Mars Hill Bible School) in northern Alabama, abuse from your “not father” and his abusive alcoholic middle brother, Reger Calevetto Curry?
Our pet cat bailed, literally ran away, lost somewhere in Alabama, because of the negative energy vortex he created upon arrival.
They alienated me from the only family I had known, so that Ron Curry could enact his plan of control and abuse, secluding and capturing us in full.
Our educations were no longer important because that was money he needed for him.
How do you sort through countless red flags that I was literally giving my parents and the world, and the answer was simply to abuse me more?
An un-diagnosed gifted neurodivergent child and y’all act like this is okay.
Like it’s the standard to get a diagnosis at 36 that actually unravels every piece of what you knew your life to be. I have been a stranger to myself. You kidnapped me from me.
I was placed in a fog, purposefully. That docile, people-pleaser, a spell of abuse placed over me. That dissociated air that was always felt whenever we arrived on the scene.
He kept us around his family because they keep each other’s secrets of abuse. I can't even tell y'all the countless violence and fights, every child in this family has been exposed to—and that is separate from their own physical, mental, and verbal abuse.
If something wasn’t right with me, it was because of the people who raised me. Yet, that is not the lying story they have been allowed to tell.
Becky and Ron don’t need therapy, let them tell it. The way they treated me—that’s just what a little fat Black girl deserves.
They are culted, culled Black Hebrew Israelites, who participate in ignorant dark energy, the spelling and binding of their children to their own evil and treachery. Their RUACH IS ROTTEN.
People who egotistically believe they should live a life of more, more, more while they “children” suffer at their dirty, lying hands.
so I expanded even further into a body that was a truth serum to the lie they were trying to hold.
I was the proof of their putrid essence and yet everyone just looked the other way.
In the second grade I lied because the people molding me were liars. I told Mr. Scott, my second grade teacher at Watch Care Daycare Academy in Denver, Colorado, that my dad was a tightrope walker in the circus and that he could get the class tickets. I wasn’t wholly wrong.
Money whenever he has it is his only flex. He uses money to distract from the devil he is. I watched him pay my friends, give people money like it flows freely, when he just denied me my needs in private.
Mr. Scott asked my not-dad—plot foiled!
Ron Curry was always a clown from the beginning and so I played his pitiful game.
He has always been balancing on a thin line of lies that he told people—a trick of light.
Instead of people looking and seeing that the tightrope was an eighth of an inch from the ground. A scam. Smoke and mirrors, a little boy trapped. They allowed his violence to continue. Pull Up to My Bumper Baby, The W(REC)K stops here.
Countless abuses and harms bestowed upon me by his younger brother Dr. Ravis Bednarick Curry and wife Trina Raines Curry of Germantown, TN.
Countless inappropriate things I have engaged in and been exposed to via Dr. Ravis Bednarick “Bama” Curry of Emergency Care Physician in Memphis, Tennessee, and his connection to the misogynistic sexual abuse, trauma, and harm that is ALL OF OMEGA PSI FI.
To include writing prescriptions illegally to his bruhs and others and loads of other illegal behavior, most of his practices have crumbled because he ruins relationship, like running water.
He doesn't drink alcohol because he does his evil deeds just fine without them.
He sexually abuses and spells countless harms onto Black women.
He cares for his White patients well and then goes home and obliterates his Black family via physical and verbal abuse. He likes to pull guns on people. Travels with a sawed-off shotgun in his vehicle.
THE QUES, THE BRUHS. DOGS OF THE NASTIEST, MOST VIOLENT, EVIL KIND.
LANE COLLEGE is an embarrassment. The harm caused to young Black women on that campus alone via fraternities and sororities should have it shut down.
I HAVE ENDURED COUNTLESS ABUSES BY HIS BRUHS INCLUDING HAVING DRINKS SPIKED AND SEXUAL ABUSE.
Ravis's abuses on his own children should have him in jail, just like his Big Brother Ronny, but instead they’ve been able to live full lives.
Ron Curry and his brothers are VIOLENT abusers.
They physically abuse and place their children in choke-holds. They pull guns on them. I repeat: they pull guns on their children.
They do it behind closed doors, so their wives can’t see (most of the time they can, and they don't care), so they can lie, and their wives corroborate the lie, for fear of their own safety.
They also physically and sexually abuse their wives, who, via abusive delusion, become their biggest protectors.
Been on a few calls with Mrs. Ravis Bednarick Curry, conversations about jail, abuse, proudly letting me know about the conversations being had about me. Sharing any piece of info she can to stir up drama and deflect from her lack.
One wife is no longer here because of the harm caused by her hollow alcoholic husband.
Alcoholism abounds in this family, and no one will talk about it. What happens when you birth babies from alcoholic and nicotine-addicted bodies?
Dementia is a form of type 3 diabetes, and they let their mother wallow in it, made sure her death was imminent.
There is no mental health in this family from Ron Hill to Big Daddy Tan, clear signs of mental chaos that runs in this family. No understanding of genetics or generational trauma.
Imbalanced behaviors are made into family stories and jokes.
Ron Curry has cheated on Becky multiple times.
Rebecca Curry grooms any new women who come into the family to abide the abuse. I have watched and heard her do it too many times.
She groomed Trina.
I have watched abuse go on in all of their households — harm to children that is still ongoing, from punching through walls, punching through people, fighting in the driveway.
I have a list a mile long: punching toddlers in the chest, slandering children’s self-esteem. Ron Curry laid hands on Becky plenty; once I was born, the outward symbol of rage transferred to me.
This is a legacy inherited from both their father Johnny Lee Curry and mother Marion Yvonne Hill-Curry-Purdue of Bessemer and Birmingham, Alabama.
It is connected to the lack of family and to plantation politics transformed into generational trauma.
They never healed from the abuses of massa, so now they have turned into massa, and I have the whip marks to prove it.
Johnny’s pure evilness and narcissism.Marion’s dementia, narcissism, and child sexual abuse. Ravis’s psychosis, mental disability, and narcissism. Reger’s alcoholism and narcissism. Ron’s bullying, blackout anger, and narcissism.
Marion getting pregnant at 13 with Ronald is a sign of deep sickness, abuse, and molestation, never healed, just planted in new bodies. All three brothers suffered sexual abuse in childhood.
Whatever low vibrational energy they’ve been running stops with me, and that’s laughable, because I ain’t even of ya’ll.
It took a foreign seed to finally bust ya’lls bullying ring apart.
BEWARE. IF YOU SEE THEM, RUN THE OTHER WAY. HIDE YOUR FAMILY, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. THESE ARE NOT PEOPLE TO APPROACH. THEIR EVIL ENERGY IS THICK AND IT WILL COERCE YOU.
Curry-Hill-Means families are violently broken. They will do anything to make it look like they are good people when they are not.
Molestation, violence, and rape are a family legacy.
They were formed by sexual and physical abuse and wrapped all of their children in this sickness. They are poison to the core.
If you know any Curry’s, Hill’s, Dickerson’s, Carver’s, Harmon’s, by all means please feel free to forward them this post.
If you live in Nashville, La Vergne, Murfreesboro, Memphis, Germantown, Tennessee or Bessemer and Florence, Alabama; Denver, Colorado, Lake Charles, Louisiana, anywhere that you might know people I am “related” to, feel free to share.
And I am very aware of those of you who over the last few years have been spying on me and, engaging strangers who have been illegally doxxing me.
Two families are involved here. While I am speaking specifically to one treacherous side, y'all are all deeply homophobic and transphobic.
Mary Francis Westbrook’s side y’all foul too. You aren’t better or above it. You allowed chaos to swirl and called it anything except what it was. Christianity got y’all lost in the sauce. But as long as you’re saved, right?
Before anybody slides in my email inbox, you better get your facts straight. Ya’ll the ones lying for 41 years, not the other way around.
Whoever you think you are to me, you aren’t. I’ve figured this out on my own. None of y’all are good. You just did the cowardly thing and saved yourself.
All of these lies are likely popping up elsewhere in y’all's lives. Your children are receiving diagnosis, mental health on a spiral. Karma will continue to be thick, because some of y’all have the same spell cast over you that Rebecca Curry does.
Neurodivergence is genetic. Granny’s side, we are gifted and have been our entire lives. All of y’all have been abusing gifted babies. ALL OF YOU.
With no understanding of your mind or the spiritual gifts and power given to the Westbrooks, ya’ll have turned your power over to pitiful men, religion, and colonial clout. For what?
To the Curry’s: do not reach out unless you want to start engaging legally. Any threat or ugliness from you will result in police and lawyers.
To Rebecca: You owe me a depth of apologies. Figure it out in this lifetime because there will be no petitioning of me once you cross to the land of the ancestors. Mary Francis is deeply angry with you.
To my sibling: You have so much work to do. You are them, through and through. I was never your enemy; it was always them. You’ve spent your life treating me like I owe you. I don’t. You have no respect for me, and you think you know everything when you actually know very little.
I’ve never known anyone with such lack of intention and care for themselves. Someone proud that their babies and husband don’t look like them. That doesn’t change who you are when you look in the mirror. Your obliviousness is chosen and violent.
To everyone else: they are going to lie to you and tell you I don’t know what I’m talking about. They’ve been creating confusion between us for a lifetime.
Anyone defending them is making a fool of themselves unless you were behind closed doors with me from 1984 to now. They are kind to everyone outside of their families for a reason; it is part of the game.
They are going to make me out to be crazy. I am. I know exactly what is going on in my brain and how to accommodate myself because it doesn’t operate like the rest. I have had to re-parent myself in full. I am healing. My life has expanded.
The walls will continue to close in on your lives. They expected me to stay silent in shame.
That shame belongs to Rebecca and Ronald Curry in full. May you choke on it.
They are going to say I am mentally unstable. Anything to frame themselves as the victims. You would be as well if this was the foolish ignorance you had to hold.
It will be up to you to wake up or continue to stay under their spell. There are things across both families that need to be healed in full, and if we don’t heal, it will carry on to another generation — it already has.
Those of you who have arrived at the end and are enraged: let that rage move you, but it should lead you to them, not me.
It should lead you to release your rage on those who planted the poison seed.
You need to call Ron and Becky. Ya’ll have no consent to access me. I’ve done the work.
Be easy in the comment section. Leave it be. Don’t implicate yourself further.
The big bad wolves. Y’all's time is ova.
I am Little Red, ridin’ to bust up ya’lls violent hood, on the way to granny’s. I am infinitely protected.
And when the last door closes behind me, know this: the echoes of your poison will no longer find a home in my blood. The spell you cast, the chains you claimed, all shatter in the air I breathe.
I walk, unseen yet seen, carrying the truth that devours your lies. The ghosts of your cruelty will haunt only you, and I? I will be the shadow that outlives your shadow—untouchable, unbroken, and laughing in the dark.
Try me.
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