by WC Child
As I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom, I scanned my surroundings looking for some recognizable link to our family's once happy life. I was looking for something to trigger hope within me that the apartment could somehow be transformed into a home. To my surprise, I saw no photos of the family life we shared. There were no pictures of me either. It was as if that place had no idea I even existed until I made my physical presence known. I didn’t understand. I was sure Big Mama sent her pictures of me. Where was I? Big Mama took pride and great care in finding the right frame to honor my pictures. They were spread throughout the house. I thought my mother would do the same. Since they weren’t anywhere else, I was confident my pictures were nicely framed and on the bedside table with those of my father’s. We would be the first faces my mother saw in the morning and in the moments before she went to sleep. When we reached the bedroom, I found nothing. There were no frames, no photos and no family on display. It was hard to mask my disappointment.
My thoughts were interrupted when my mother instructed me to place my clothes in the hall closet. I was confused. I thought I would have my own room, or at the least, we would share the bedroom. I wanted to know why. It didn’t take long for the “Why” to walk through the front door. My questions were answered when I heard the front door open and a deep male voice proclaimed, “Baby, I’m home.”
It startled me when the sound of a male voice echoed down the hallway. I never considered there would be another person, especially not another man, sharing a home with my mother. Although logic dictated otherwise, I felt she was being disloyal to my father by being with another man. I was not ready to accept that she wanted to share her life with any man the same way she did with my father. My heart sank. I began to think both my father and I had been replaced. That man’s presence probably explained why no visual reminders of our family were there.
Right before I boarded the bus, Big Mama talked to me about how important it was for us to rebuild our mother/daughter relationship. We needed to lean on each other for support until we were stable again. Apparently, she had found another support system. I started to get angry when I thought about how I was left for so long with Big Mama while she restarted her life without me. As if she sensed my confusion, she nervously grabbed me by the hand and ushered me down the hall to meet the person who interrupted our reunion.
The first glances between the three of us created a game of ocular ping-pong. Each of us was involved in our own version of the game. My mother looked nervous, I looked unsure and he looked too long. Not only did he look me in the eyes, he looked at my body in a way that made me feel uncovered. Although I couldn’t define it right away, I saw what I later realized as the look of evil in his eyes. Meeting my father’s replacement did not leave me with a good feeling in my core. I did not believe we could become a family.
With the introductions out of the way, my mother and her mate retreated to the bedroom. I was left standing in the space I realized would be my bedroom. By default, the convertible couch became my bed. My mother’s bed was full. I was concerned that I would be afforded no sense of privacy. After looking into the creepy eyes of that stranger, I knew getting my own room had to be a priority.
It didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t remain out in the open for very long. One night I saw that man standing over me after I repositioned myself on the couch. It frightened me. Consequently, I became relentless in my quest to get my own room. I constantly reminded my mother of her promise to get a two-bedroom apartment. She promised we would move soon, but soon never arrived. I didn’t get the family or the reunion I envisioned.
Chapter 6
The Chase
The new living dynamic was less than ideal for me. I had never lived around any males who were not my blood. I didn’t like my mother’s boyfriend and never pretended that I did. I always had the feeling I was being watched. I would look up to find his intrusive eyes gazing in my direction. I felt I was being hunted. I didn’t like that feeling. Something about that man was not right. His mere presence consumed the air I breathed. I made it a point to keep my distance from him.
He tried too hard to gain my trust. I ignored his attempts. I knew I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Just the thought of him made my skin crawl. I had never experienced feeling uncomfortable in my own skin before. I had to be totally covered from head to toe, no matter how hot it got in that small apartment. My perception of his motives made me uneasy. I thought he was trying hard to get glimpses of those sacred places that Big Mama taught me to protect. I had prepared my mind for unwanted attention from pubescent males whose voices changed from deep to screechy from one sentence to the next. Never had I imagined that type of negative attention from a man who was old enough to be my father.
To my discomfort, it seemed he was always around. When I left for school, he was there. When I came home from school, he was there. I was sure no job in America had such great work hours. But for someone with no apparent source of income, he was never without alcohol or cigarettes. He and my mother always found ways to satisfy vices at the expense of other necessities.
I remember the day he first tried to hug me. He grabbed my wrist and told me to give my “new daddy” a hug. I quickly pulled away from his grasp. He laughed and told me I looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He took another draw on the cigarette that hung loosely from his mouth and winked at me. A chill ran through my body. I told him he was not my daddy and to never touch me again.
As I headed for the apartment door, I heard him laugh and say, “Where you going? You can stay here with me. I’m not gonna bother you.” He paused, exhaled the smoke and said, “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m yo new daddy and you’re my sweet baby girl. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you.”
Horrible sounds of laughter exploded from an evil place I had no intention of getting to know. I quickly ran out the front door. I was too afraid to look back. His looks and innuendoes were not those of any “daddy” I wanted to know. I stayed away from that apartment until I knew my mother was home from work.
I was afraid all the time at a place that was supposed to be my home. I was sure he liked the fear he saw on my face every time he got close enough to rub my arm or touch my face. It was all part of his sick game. He enjoyed playing with me like a cat plays with a ball of yarn. I couldn’t count the number of times he tried to brush up against me as we passed in the hallway. I feared it would be just a matter of time before something bad happened to me at the hands of this self-professed pseudo-daddy.
When I first arrived at my mother’s house, she promised we would move to a two-bedroom apartment. I needed privacy and a door that locked. I was still sleeping on the couch. I had no way to escape those eyes that were always looking for an opening. Although the bathroom became my sanctuary, it wasn’t always the safe haven I so desperately needed. One night, the creaky bathroom door provided an alarm system that rivaled ADT when it alerted me the door was opening. The shower curtain concealed my body from the prying eyes and the unexpected surge of cold air. I was exposed, both mentally and physically. I quickly wrapped myself with a towel and rushed toward the bathroom door. To my horror, he stood motionless in the shadow of the hallway while he peeked through the crack in the door. After I slammed the door shut, my body trembled as I clutched my towel. I had always been so careful to ensure the door was locked, but not that time. He was getting too bold; too close. I had to make my mother understand that I needed to get my own room. Then at least I could lock my bedroom door and have some privacy. I needed a peaceful night’s rest without worrying about what stage of the plan he was at. I knew I was in danger. I had to tell my mother everything.
Chapter 7
Relief
Saturday was the one day I didn’t have to fear the unwanted advances from my mother’s boyfriend. Although we mostly ran errands and did laundry, I didn’t complain. It was our private time together. During those times, I tried to squeeze out as m
uch joy as possible. I needed to enjoy it while I could. I knew it would evaporate the minute I returned home where probing eyes and lecherous intentions overshadowed my hope for a peaceful existence.
I didn’t know how to find the words to tell my mother the truth about the man she laid down with every night. Even though he had her, he wanted something from me too. From all accounts, she loved that man and lived with him like she did with my daddy. But unlike when she was with my daddy, she didn’t laugh as much. She looked tired and sad. I was conflicted. I didn’t want to add any more trouble to her already dismal life by telling my truth. After all, she abandoned me at Big Mama’s house because of some man. If it came down to a choice between me and him, I wondered if she would choose me. It was too risky for me to find out right now. Instead, I decided to ask her if she was happy that I came.
When our eyes met, I saw hers were welling up with tears. She struggled to find the words to express things that had been bottled up in her spirit for years. They were ready to make their exit. My mother composed her thoughts and cleared her throat before she said, “Of course I am. You’re my baby. I missed you. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy and safe. For a while, your Big Mama’s house was the best place for you. But now, it’s my time to take care of you again.”
Her response made me happy. She took my hand in hers before she said, “The love of a mother can’t be understood by most men. They don’t understand how deeply we love and how hard we will fight for our children. You probably don’t understand now why I left you with your Big Mama, but you will when it comes to your own children. As long as you are with me, I will never let anyone hurt you. That’s my job as a mother; to always protect my child, without exception, without hesitation.”
My mother gently pulled me into her arms and began to shower me with hugs and kisses. We both laughed as she squeezed me tightly into her breast. I closed my eyes and tried to recapture the feelings of days long ago. I thought about the times when daddy was alive and we were a happy family. When I opened my eyes, I expected to still see the lightness in her demeanor. What I saw was liquid sadness. I witnessed the gap narrow between joy and pain. Her emotions swiftly moved from one extreme to the other. As quickly as the sparkle and affection in her eyes appeared, it disappeared. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about what was going on with her boyfriend. She seemed to need protection as much as I did. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I vowed to always know how to escape my danger.
I couldn’t stand to see my mother with so much pain in her eyes. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. It was just the two of us hanging out together. We had to have some fun before we went back to our real lives. After we loaded the laundry into the car, I asked my mother if we could go to the arcade at the end of the block. It could definitely provide a temporary cure for our blues. We had enjoyed going to the fair as a family and although the arcade didn’t offer the same activities, I convinced my mother that it would be really fun. We both enjoyed a carefree afternoon with each other. It had been a long time since I had seen this side of my mother. I longed to see more of that person. Before we left the arcade, we took several pictures in the photo booth. We both laughed at the images we captured. Maybe the pictures could begin the process of layering our relationship with new memories.
All things considered, it was a good day. I felt we were beginning to find our way back to each other again. Out of jealousy, I wondered how much closer we could be if she didn’t have to split her attention between me and that man. When we turned the corner that led to our house, my demeanor changed. The relief I felt was short-lived. The freedom I felt with just having my mother around turned to fear as we got closer to our home. All the momentum I gained vanished when she put the car in park. It was time for me to transition myself from child to armed guard.
Chapter 8
Game Over
The night for me had been peaceful. I had the place all to myself and was able to relax my mind. I had been extra careful about being alone with my mother’s boyfriend. Since there had been no overt advances made toward me lately, I honestly believed he finally dismissed me from his mind. He and my mother had gone out earlier. If that Saturday night was like all the others, they would stumble in around two o’clock. They would remain in their room until well past the time when we should have been in somebody’s worship services. Just like clockwork, they made their less than subtle entrance. I rolled over with my back facing the door. I fooled Big Mama many times with that move and didn’t think twice about maintaining that posture after I heard their bedroom door close.
At first, I didn’t know if I was asleep or awake. The warmth of my blanket was replaced by the sudden chill of cold air. I didn’t have time to scream before the full weight of his body was on mine. One of my arms was pinned against the couch. With my free hand, I tried to pry from my mouth and part of my nose those unwanted fingers of the monster that had descended from Hell upon me. I struggled with all my might to dislodge him from the superior position he commanded over me. My struggle was in vain.
Unwelcome sounds and smells overtook my senses. They were like nothing I ever experienced. He hungrily licked my face; I nearly gagged. The smell of his breath was a mixture of dirty ash trays, food and alcohol. His fingers viciously probed me in areas reserved for a sacred union. My eyes reacted in response to every intrusive thrust. My breathing increased in anticipation of the next agonizing sensation. I had to get him off me. I could not let him steal my bodily innocence. It could not be his victory. But the harder I struggled to release myself from his clutches, the stronger his determination grew to invade my inner space.
Pain ripped through my body in waves from places deep inside. I was engulfed in activities far too severe for a child who didn’t fully understand her body’s definition of womanhood. The sounds of fear and anguish that escaped from my throat were overtaken by the rhythmic grunting, snorting and guttural noises he made. He paid no attention to the constant wave of tears that saturated the edges of fingers that imprisoned my sounds. All I could think about was the pain. It continued long after I realized he completed his purpose. An awkward feeling of relief flooded my body when his movements stopped and he lay motionless in a heap on top of me. My naïve mind knew enough to understand the pain in my body would be worse if he started moving on me again. I held my breath and prayed for continued relief.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by his heavy breathing and the steady buzzing sound of the refrigerator. While his hand still covered my mouth, he delivered his final show of force. He put his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “If you tell your mother about this, I will kill both of you. Do you understand?” I nodded in submission. After he lifted the weight of his body from mine, he grinned and smugly exposed a perverted superior look in his eyes. He had conquered parts of my body and bits of my soul. As quietly as he appeared, he disappeared back down the hallway and returned to the bed of my mother
The stillness of the room returned, but the screaming in my mind became louder. I tried to make myself invisible in the corner of the tattered sofa that had just been a battleground. I sat there motionless and defeated. He had launched his planned attack on my purity and staggered away with the spoils. My immaturity led me to believe I could control the actions of someone more cunning than I gave him credit for. I knew my innocence had died and my life would never be the same again.
Chapter 9
The Aftermath
I gingerly removed my body from the crime scene and made my way toward the bathroom. It was the only place in the house where I felt safe. Each awkwardly painful step I made confirmed the end of my virginity. The smell of the act still lingered in my nostrils. All I wanted was to remove any form or substance of his existence from my body. Any reference to the sights and sounds of my attacker only accented and confirmed the destruction caused by his brutal entry. I always found a hot bath soothing and I needed all the comfort I could find. Maybe the cleansing of my nat
ural body would restore some sort of sanity to my mind.
I eased myself down into the steaming hot cauldron of water. The hot water burned like alcohol on an open wound. I struggled to allow myself to remain fully submerged. There I wept openly and freely. In that private place, no one else heard the sounds of my anguish. Tears and mucus joined hands and plunged deeply into the steamy water. I stayed in the water until all the heat evaporated and my hands took on the consistency of prunes. I needed time and space to think about what happened. I needed the protection the small confined space provided. The once hot water both cleansed and started the healing process for my physical body, but my mental state required so much more time than the bathtub offered.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I still saw the face of my old self, but on the inside, I no longer had an identity I recognized. I didn’t know who I was any more. It took less than five minutes to change forever the essence of my being. I had no choice but to accept the consequences of someone else’s inhumanity. My immediate goal was to survive that night with as much of myself in tact as possible.
I kept going over everything again and again in my mind. I tried to figure out what I had done to deserve his abuse. I found no answer. I knew I would never find an answer. His actions were beyond the reach of my inexperienced mind. I wondered how that temporary act could cause anyone to violate an innocent child against their will. I didn’t even fully understand what just happened. It was nothing like what I had taken away as fact from the talks I had with Big Mama. She had not prepared me for that set of circumstances. I wondered what would happen next, now that round one had gone to the aggressor. I had few options available to protect myself. I was easy prey; always out in the open and never far from sight of the hunter.