by Thalia Lake
When I was drunk or high, I could forget about my problems and feel numb from head to toe. Nothing bothered me, and no one could make me feel sad or ashamed as long as I was under the influence. Ever since I was raped, I never had a good night’s rest. I had constant nightmares and flashbacks that resulted in me waking up in cold sweats. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see my rapist’s ugly, disgusting face. I could still feel his hot, rancid breath on the back of my neck and smell the aroma of his aftershave. ‘Til this day, I can’t stand the smell of Old Spice aftershave or anything that smells like it. I refuse to even say his name anymore because I felt it gave him power over me. I hate that all of those vivid memories of being raped have stuck with me, as if it happened just yesterday. Why couldn’t I be one of those who was so traumatized that they blocked the memory completely from their mind? Why couldn’t I live in ignorant bliss as though it had never happened? Instead, I was reminded of the horrific, violent way that I was sexually assaulted every time I close my eyes.
My drug habit introduced me to the streets and the unsavory people who resided in them, like Carter Williams. Carter was a drug dealer who had been in the game for many years. Originally from New York, he commuted back and forth between New York and Detroit before he finally made Detroit his permanent home. He was a few years older than me and was quite handsome in a thuggish way. Carter always had money, drove nice cars, and always dressed nice. He could also be quite charming when he wanted to be. We got together just when my drug use turned from casual to full-blown addict. He liked to show me off to his business associates and friends when I was sober. He felt having someone like me, someone he deemed beautiful, would increase his status and get him the respect he so desperately sought. Carter was always talking about moving up to the next level in the drug game, and he had grandiose dreams of being one of the biggest drug kingpins around. I thought he was delusional and completely out of his mind, but I couldn’t knock his determination.
After attending boring parties that were often held at sleazy strip clubs or hole-in-the-wall bars, we’d go back home and I’d sniff all the cocaine I could get my hands on. Carter never used drugs, he’d just watch me and make sure I didn’t overdose. Even though he was a well-known drug dealer with many connections, Carter was afraid of my brother Michael. Michael had gang connections and pull on the streets. However, his fear of Michael didn’t stop him from knocking me around when he was angry about something, and most of the time I was too high to fight back. Hell, I’d be so doped up that I wouldn’t even feel his blows. With my light-skinned complexion, I bruised easily, and sometimes even the best cover-up makeup couldn’t hide the bruises left from Carter’s beat down.
One day Michael came by our apartment to check on me because I had been off the grid for some months and he wanted to make sure that I was still alive. Carter had knocked me around the night before and the right side of my face was swollen black and blue. When I answered the door, the rage in Michael’s eyes was instant.
“What the fuck? Where is he, Sarah? I’m gonna KILL him!” Michael yelled, as he moved me to the side and entered the apartment, stalking from room to room, looking for Carter.
“He’s not here Mikey, and I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”
I was so out of it that I was surprised that I managed to form a single coherent sentence. Michael, on the other hand, was on the rampage.
“I know where to find his ass,” he said before he stormed to the door to leave. Before he walked out, he turned around to look at me. “You’ve gotta get yourself together, Sarah. My biggest fear is coming to check up on you and finding you dead. Do you know how much that would mess me up? Do you know what that would do to our family? We love you. I wish you could see that. But this right here - this ain’t cool. You’re better than this, and the sooner you realize that the better. I love you, Big Sis. But if you don’t change, your brothers are going to be carrying your casket on our shoulders real soon.” Michael stooped down and gave me a kiss on my cheek and left. I stood in the same spot at my front door, dumbfounded and crushed. My baby brother sobered me up with those few powerful words. I managed to walk to my living room before I crumbled to my knees and cried my eyes out. Once I got over my pity party, I showered, packed my clothes, and left Carter’s apartment and never returned.
I had started a savings account after my very first escorting job and I’d been putting money inside of the account ever since. In the beginning, I only used the money for clothes and other small necessities, but once I began to drink and do drugs, I blew half of my savings on keeping up with my habits. What little I had left, I used to get my own apartment on the other side of town so I could try to rebuild my life. It wasn’t easy, and I had many setbacks. I could never keep a job because I was always snapping at my bosses or coworkers. I was getting evicted left and right, and before I knew it, I was back to using drugs again. I felt like such a failure, and when you’re alone, it’s easy to throw yourself pity parties that last for days, weeks, and even months.
I later found out that Michael tracked Carter down and beat the hell out of him and promised him that if he ever laid another hand on me that he’d kill him. My brother never made idle threats, and Carter knew that Michael would follow through. When I fell back into my drug habit, I made sure I stayed clear of Carter and his sellers. I never wanted to see him again, and that included no longer buying from his people. I was with Carter long enough to know who his workers were.
Now I was homeless with nothing but a car, some bags of clothes, and a few pairs of shoes to my name. I was desperate and out of options. Moving to Atlanta where Carly and her family resided wasn’t an option. As much as I missed my sister, I would never bring my issues down there to her. Carly was battling her own demons and trying to live a normal life with her family, and she deserved the happiness and peace she has found. Sloane and I weren’t in a good place in our relationship, and she despised me anyway. I could never go to her for help, nor would I want to see her look at me in her judgmental way. Junior had his own family to worry about and Michael - well, we’re a lot alike, but he also has a bad temper and I didn’t want to be the cause of him going back to jail because of always trying to protect me from myself or from the likes of Carter. Evan was locked up in jail, so this left me no other option than to go crawling back to my parents, my father in particular. I knew my mother would never be on board with me living under the same roof as her again, but my father could talk her into it, and he did. Before I moved in, my mother laid down ground rules with me as though I were a child. I tried not to roll my eyes, but I was so over it. If she would just shut up so I could go smoke some weed to calm my nerves…
“Sarah, did you hear me? I said I want you out and looking for a job. And I better not catch you drinking or doing drugs in my house either,” my mother snapped.
She gave me a pointed stare as she waited for me to deny that I had either of those vices. I didn’t dare deny anything she said as I knew it would only lead to a nasty, heated argument. Instead I said, “I hear you loud and clear, Ma. No drinking and no drugs in your house. Got it.” I know she sensed the underlying sarcasm in my voice as she rolled her eyes at me. I moved my few belongings to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs and tried to wrap my head around hitting the pavement to find work. The only work I knew was escorting and it paid very well.
My mother worked during the day and my father was forced to retire early due to an on-the-job injury that left him disabled. He could still walk and do other things, but because his job was mostly in warehouses and factories, and he was no longer able to perform those duties anymore. During the day, my father and I were always home alone. What my mother didn’t know was that her husband never stopped drinking or doing drugs. He hid it from her for years. My father and I bonded over our shared drug and drinking habits and would sit in the garage and get high for hours on end. One day we were joking around which led to us wrestling. I ran to the house and my father chased me. I ran into his bedr
oom and he tackled me onto his bed. We were high as kites. We had smoked all kinds of stuff, including some crack. My father became too frisky, and even though I was high I knew when the playing turned into something else. I kicked him off of me and ran to the kitchen. “What the fuck are you trying to do you sick son of a bitch!”
“What, I was just playing with you. I used to play with Carly like that.” My father said with a disgusting smirk on his face.
“What you did to Carly was rape you disgusting bastard! I may be high but I’m not that high! What you did to Carly will never happen with me, do you understand me?”
“I thought you’d be different. You’re just a tease I see. Just like Carly was,” he sneered in return.
I couldn’t believe my ears. How dare he speak of Carly that way! He ruined her life and she almost didn’t recover, and he had the nerve to call her a tease when he raped his own child? I whipped out my switchblade and placed the cold blade against his throat.
“Don’t you ever speak of my sister in that way again! Carly is a good person, she was innocent and sweet and you STOLE that from her! You ruined her life! She wanted to kill you, but I stopped her. I kept her from slicing your throat in your sleep!”
He looked at me in shock and horror at my revelation.
“Yeah, you didn’t know that did you? One night I had to use the bathroom and noticed that Carly wasn’t in her bed. When I came downstairs, guess where she was? Standing over you with a butcher knife ready to kill your ass. You were passed out drunk and didn’t even know that we stood there for ten minutes because I had to talk her out of it, telling her that you weren’t worth spending the rest of her life in jail! Looking at you now, I wish I had let her kill you. Then at least our family would be rid of your sick, perverted ass!”
As the truth sunk into my sperm donor, I saw fear in his eyes. I removed my knife from his neck and stepped back as I continued to stare at him. I wanted to cut him up so bad I could taste it. He wasn’t my father. He wasn’t a man I looked up to. He was a predator. He was like that fucker who raped me in high school. That’s how deeply I’d come to hate him. I shook my head and smirked. He stood looking at me like I was someone he no longer knew, as if he couldn’t believe that his children would ever wish him harm, let alone be the ones to inflict it upon him.
“What’s wrong? You don’t recognize me anymore? Pft! You never knew who I was to begin with. What your eyes are seeing right now is what you and Mama created. All of your kids are FUCKED UP, and it’s YOUR fault! You two created the monsters your children have become, and you will have to answer to God for it come Judgment Day!”
I knew I had to get out of my parents’ house immediately. Not long after the argument with my father, my mother confronted us. She accused us of having a salacious affair under her nose.
“I heard you talking about it with my own ears, so don’t even try to deny it!” she screamed.
She came home early that day and we didn’t know it. She was in the basement, standing at the foot of the stairs when she overheard our argument. She didn’t hear the whole thing and had it all wrong. Guilt ripped me apart. I wanted to tell her so badly that it wasn’t what she thought, but how could I tell her this without admitting to doing something so reprehensible and vile with my own father even though I wasn’t a willing participant? Ma, it wasn’t like that. We were both high on all kinds of drugs and I wasn’t in my right mind. I would never willingly do something so disgusting. That would never go over well with Betty Jean Paris. If anything, it would have enraged her further. I stood there and took the venom that she spewed at me through her angry and hurt tears. When she was finally finished, I went upstairs and packed my things and left, never to return. That was also the last communication I had with my parents for the next several years.
Chapter Five - Rebuilding (Sarah)
Once again I was faced with the daunting task of trying to get my life together. At that point I had experienced every kind of low a person could experience. After I left my parents’ house, I slept in my car, up until it was stolen. I honestly believe Carter had something to do with it. But of course I couldn’t prove it. With nothing but a garbage bag full of my belongings, I slept on anyone’s couch who’d let me. Soon I heard about Sloane’s new boyfriend and subsequent engagement. We hadn’t talked in a very long time and didn’t have the best relationship, especially with the scandal with our father floating in the air, but we are still sisters. I love Sloane and I couldn’t understand why she would share her engagement and wedding news with everyone in our family, except for me. I was beyond hurt and needed answers. Carly and her family were in town for the wedding, and I found out from her where the rehearsal dinner was being held. She had reluctantly shared the information with me and begged me not to cause a scene. I never intended to cause a scene. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or my sister; I simply wanted to talk. I showed up there in the best dress I had, which happened to be my red, mini, skin-tight dress that I usually wore to go to clubs.
I felt I needed some liquid courage to confront Sloane, but one glass of wine turned into four, and that’s where things went completely wrong. I barged inside and caused an ugly scene, something I instantly regretted once I was sober. Sloane and I had it out in the parking lot with Junior and Michael there to keep me under control. The things she said to me put me to shame. All she wanted was my love and acceptance, and all I did was put her down and push her away. She told me that she knew about me propositioning her boyfriends and sleeping with one of them (I guess she didn’t know about the other two), and I wanted to crawl into the deepest recesses of the earth. I was riddled with guilt. There was nothing I could say to redeem myself, and I certainly couldn’t deny any of it. Sloane stood before me with her anger barely under control, daring me to deny any of the things she confronted me with. I knew the moment I did, she was going to pounce on me verbally, and probably physically as well. Lord knows I deserved it. Hearing my brother’s voice their disapproval only made me feel worse. They never judged me about all the other bad things I did in my life, but sleeping with your sister’s boyfriends definitely ranked on the all-time low list.
What stirred me the most was when Sloane said that somewhere down the line I had changed and became toxic. She was right. I was never the same after my rape. I went into a dark abyss, and I’d been drowning in it ever since. Never had I been slapped in the face with the truth in such a hard, stinging way than the way my baby sister slapped me with it just then. I was surprised to see the same hurt and pain in her eyes that mirrored my own. I’d been so wrapped up in my own sorrows that I never stopped to realize that my baby sister, “Perfect Sloane,” was hurting too. All this time I thought Sloane had the perfect, worry- free life because everyone loved her, everyone doted on her. She was successful, beautiful, and had built a life for herself. What could possibly be wrong in her world when she seemed to have it all? But the eyes didn’t lie and in that moment I could see her pain as clear as day.
Shortly after our heated confrontation, Michael took me back to his place and helped me sober up. We were sitting at his kitchen table drinking coffee. I was still very emotional as silent tears continued to fall down my cheeks. As always, my brother offered to let me stay with him until I got on my feet, but as always, I turned him down.
“I’ve got to do this on my own, Mikey, with no help from my family,” I gently told him.
It was quiet throughout his apartment with nothing to be heard other than us sipping our hot coffee and my occasional sniffs. I could barely take the hurt and concern in my little brother’s eyes. I knew he worried about me. Besides Carly, he understood me more than anyone in our family. He had battled his own demons so he knew firsthand how hard it was going to be for me to get my life together.
“Sarah, we’re family, we’re supposed to help each other through the good and the bad. I wish you’d let me help you,” Michael pleaded.
“I appreciate your offer to let me stay with you, and I love you
for always wanting to take care of me, but I truly have to try to do this on my own. I know I’ve failed many times, but I have to keep trying. I just have to.”
I stood up, put my coffee cup in his dishwasher, and gave my brother a strong hug. I then walked to his spare bedroom to go to bed. My head was pounding, and I knew it was because I was holding in my emotions. I didn’t want Michael to see me break down because I knew he wouldn’t be able to take it and would feel the need to do something about it. He didn’t realize that he couldn’t fix everything, and not every situation required action. I love him for trying though.
I laid in bed and cried bitter, shameful tears. The more I cried, the more I sobered up. I thought about how much I’d hurt the people I loved the most, especially Sloane. I laughed to myself as I thought about how I had the nerve to be angry that she hadn’t include me in any of the excitement with her new fiancé. The drugs really had made me delusional. How could I honestly expect her to be willing to share anything with me, let alone talk to me, after all of the awful things I’d done to her? Things I had yet to apologize for. As I reflected on my behavior over the years towards Sloane, and my family as a whole, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could stand to be around me when all I did was hurt them. I couldn’t even stand being in my own skin most times. For years I’d kept these self-loathing thoughts bottled up inside. When you’re hurting and wounded, you lash out at others because you want them to feel your pain with the hopes that they will understand your suffering. Not only do you want them to understand your suffering, but you want them to help you end it too. Because I didn’t know how to change my life or fix myself, I continued to do what I did best - hurt people. I was caught in a vicious cycle of self-abuse and self-sabotage, and I wanted it to stop.
The next morning I went to see my old friend Sandy and begged her to let me get back into escorting. She’s such a beautiful woman inside and out with her smooth, milk- chocolate skin. She’s tall, standing at 5’10” with a medium build that she kept in tip-top shape. Her smile was always so genuine and could light up any room, and her snorty laugh was infectious. Her eyes were always kind and sparkling like diamonds. Some people looked down on Sandy because of the line of work she was in. Even certain family members refused to talk to her, including her father, whom she continues to take care of now that he’s in a nursing home. Sandy tries to hide her pain, but I know not having the relationship she wants and needs from her family hurts her. That’s always been something we’ve had in common, and I tell her all the time that I know exactly how she feels.