by Joy, E. n.
Chapter Four
My first day home wasn't so bad. My mother and John had taken me shopping and out to dinner. But after all those months of eating state food, a normal meal had my stomach tore up. My room still looked the way I had left it. Ray J, Nelly, Snoop Dogg, and of course, T.I. posters covered my walls and doors. My bed was neatly made and all my old clothes still hung in the closet. It actually felt good being home.
For the next six months, things seemed normal. I had gotten a job at Applebee’s as a waitress and was saving up my money so I could buy me a car. My mom and John said they would go half when I got my license. I signed up for driver’s education classes to speed up the process. My mother said I was kind of a strange teenager because I didn't like to go anywhere. While all the other girls my age were worrying about shopping, gold-diggin' and the finest boys, I occupied my time by reading books.
I was happy with my life up until the Friday night my mother called home and said she was forced to work a double shift.
"Momma, how come you can't have somebody else work for you?" I asked her, wanting her to come home so I wouldn't have to be alone with John.
"Hayden, you're seventeen, so stop actin' like a child. It's my turn to do a double. Now you know the more I work, the quicker you can get your car," she said, hoping to cheer me up.
"Okay, Momma, I love you."
"I love you too, now put John on the phone."
I walked into my mother's room, where John was doing what he did best; laying down and watching television, which was all I’d ever known him to do. “Momma want you on the phone.” I threw the phone on the bed and walked out. I still couldn't stand the sight of John, and I didn’t know how much longer I could take pretending that everything was good when it was anything but. If it was left up to me, he would have been dead a long time ago.
I climbed in my bed and began watching television to try to stay awake until my mother got home. Even though John hadn't tried to do anything to me since my returning home, I still wasn't comfortable with falling asleep while I was alone with him. I had caught him staring at me a few times, so for protection I kept a butcher knife under my pillow just in case.
That night while my mother worked a double, I stayed up and watched sitcom after sitcom until my eyes started getting heavy. I tried to fight the sleep head up, but sleep won. I was out like a light.
"Hayden, wake up," I heard someone say.
I was so groggy and tired, I couldn’t catch the voice. "Momma, is that you?" I asked as I tried to get focused.
"Naw, it's me, John.”
I sat up quickly and snatched the comforter up to my chin. "What you want in here?" I snapped, angrily. "Get outta my room before I tell my momma what you’ve done to me," I warned, hoping he would get scared and leave.
"You think yo’ momma gon' believe that I would touch her little psycho daughter?" He laughed and snatched my comforter off of me, throwing it to the floor. “Come, on, girl. It’s been a minute. I’ve missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”
"I’m not playin' wit' you, John. You betta get outta my room!" I yelled. Tears filled my eyes as I prepared myself for what was about to happen next. John pulled his boxers down to his ankles and stepped out of them.
"Please, John, get out," I begged, frantically.
"Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way. It's up to you," he said.
"I don't wanna do it no way. Please, just leave." Tears began to fall at a steady pace.
"Don't cry. Just lay back and take it, Princess," he said, climbing in my bed.
I did what I was told. I laid back and placed my hands behind my head as he climbed on top of me and began sucking on my breast.
"Yeah, that's it," he said. "You like this don't you?"
I nodded my head in the affirmative as I grabbed the butcher knife with my right hand.
"Tell me how much you like it?" he moaned.
"No, I'll show you how much I like it," I said calmly as I swung the knife from under the pillow and stuck it right in his neck.
I could see the terror in John's face as he tried to pull the knife from his neck. I pushed him off of me and he rolled to the floor. I got out of bed and stood over him and watched as he gasped for air.
"I hope you die," I yelled with a vengeance as I watched John fight for his worthless life. For a moment there I was enjoying watching this man die right before my eyes, but then I snapped back to reality.
My momma gon' kill me if I let this fool die, I thought as I ran into the living room to dial 911. After talking with the 911 operator and being told help was on the way, I sat on the couch and waited for the paramedics to arrive. Someone at the hospital must have alarmed my mother of the 911 call to our house, because she arrived at home the same time as the paramedics pulled up.
I watched out the front window as I saw my momma running into the house, with the paramedics in tow. I shook my head when I saw the three cop cars pull up. I knew I was in trouble once again, but this time I couldn’t have cared less. It was self-defense. No way could they lock me up for defending myself against that pervert.
"What happened, Hayden?" My momma screamed once she made it into the house.
"Ma'am, where's the victim?" one of the paramedics asked me before I could answer my mother.
All I could do was point toward my bedroom and watch as they went to John’s aide. My mother was right behind them.
I sat on the couch in silence as John was rushed out to the ambulance, my mother once again right behind them. She didn't even stick around to find out what had happened; that I had stabbed John or why I’d stabbed him. Tears fell as I watched her climb into the back of the ambulance. I had no remorse for what I had done. In fact, it felt good sticking that knife in John's neck. If I had to do it all over again, I probably woulda swung even harder and not dialed 911.
Even though Momma didn’t hang around to find out the details, the police certainly did. After I was questioned by the police, and told them everything that went down, they arrested me anyways. They said something about me having a past of getting in trouble and the chance of me perhaps staging everything to make it look like John attacked me. Nonetheless, they said it was proper procedure that they take me in for further questioning. Some luck, after being questioned a second time, they took me right back to the detention center. I sat in my room and cried like a baby, because my momma was so occupied with John's well-being, she didn't even know I was locked up. I also cried because I knew that if John didn’t make it, and with me being seventeen, they could charge me as an adult and I could end up in grown-folk jail.
It was Friday, which meant I would have to spend the entire weekend locked up, because I couldn’t be arraigned until Monday. A C/O gladly reminded me of that. Sadly, I found out from Saturday's paper that John didn't die. I was so disappointed after reading the article about the stabbing; I picked up my chair and threw it across the activity room. Several C/ O's rushed me, restrained me, and put me in the hole until it was time for me to go to court. I just wanted to die. If God cared anything about me at all, why wouldn’t He just let me die?
Chapter Five
I had forgotten that Monday was a holiday, Memorial Day. Evidentially, so did the C/O. I had to spend an extra day locked up and in the hole. I was so glad to see Tuesday roll around. I found out from my case manager that I was going before Judge Hilliard, the same judge that I had went before every other time. Imagine that.
"All rise, the honorable Judge Hilliard presiding," the bailiff said.
I rolled my eyes into my head and stood up. Both my hands and feet were shackled. Once the judge let his presence be known, we all took a seat. I sat and listened as he chewed up and spit out the other individuals who went before me. I already knew when it was my turn, he was gon' do me the same. My case was the last one to be heard.
"State of Ohio versus Hayden Parker. Case number 09023-02," the bailiff called out.
I slowly stood up with a smug look on my face. I knew
he was about to throw the book at me, but I didn't care. So much had already been done to me in my life.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here; Miss Hayden Parker," the judge smirked. "I knew you couldn't stay out of trouble. That's why I let you out early, 'cause I knew you'd be back." The judge let out the most irritating laugh.
I was so pissed off; I could have spit in his face. I watched as my mother hurried through the courtroom doors and took a seat in the back. I was glad to see her because for a minute I thought she had forgotten that I even existed.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Judge Hilliard asked me.
"Nothing," I replied, nonchalantly, which pissed him off as well.
"You know you are being charged with attempted murder?” the judge asked.
I ignored his comment as my eyes nearly bucked out of my head when I saw John walk through the courtroom doors with his neck bandaged. He looked around for my mother. My heart pounded with anxiety as I watched her wave him over to her.
"No, your honor," I answered as my heart broke into a million tiny pieces. How could she still be messing with him? I cried on the inside. Surely the police had to have told her what I told them. Even though they might not have believed me, I wanted badly for my own mother to.
"Is your victim in the courtroom?" the judge asked me.
I slowly shook my head. "I can't hear your head shaking," he replied snottily.
"Yes," I said with an attitude.
"What do you hafta say for yourself? Don't you feel any remorse for the poor gentleman you stabbed?" he asked me. "Don't you know you could have killed Mr. Davison," he continued. "But you don't care, do you? What would possess a person to do such a thing?" The judge was disgusted with me and my actions, but again, I didn't care.
I looked around the courtroom and instantly got sick to my stomach. Feeling alone and betrayed by the one person who I thought would always have my back, I did what I thought was right, if not for myself, for others. Besides, what did I have to lose? It was clear that my mother would always choose John over me no matter what.
"Your honor,” I started, “Mr. John Davison was trying to rape me, that's why I stabbed him in the neck." It took a lot of courage, but I found the strength and said it.
I could hear gasping sounds throughout the courtroom. I was too afraid to look at my mother and see the look on her face.
"Could you repeat that?" the judge asked me.
"Mr. John Davison tried to rape me; that's why I stabbed him.” Tears welled in my eyes as I spoke. "He started molesting me when I was eight," I balked, but found enough strength from somewhere to go on. "It lasted up until you sentenced me to do jail time. Those were the best years of my life because I didn't hafta worry about John forcing himself on me."
John stood up from his seat and began shouting. "Your honor, she's lying. I would never do anything like that," he protested. "She's crazy!"
"Order in the court," Judge Hilliard yelled while pounding his gavel. The bailiff walked over and calmed John down. Judge Hilliard cleared his throat before speaking. "Young lady, these accusations you have made are serious, do you understand?"
“Why didn’t anyone question why he was found in my room, with his underwear off?” I asked, wanting anyone to answer, preferably my mother. “Do the police really think I’d go through all that trouble to stage the scene?” There was no response. It was like the judge ignored my reasoning because he continued talking.
“Ms. Parker, did you hear what I said about these accusations being serious?”
Feeling like no one was on my side but me, I slowly nodded my head as I finally gathered enough nerve to look over at my mother. I could see the hurt and devastation embedded all over her face. I wanted to run over, wrap my arms around her, and comfort her. Ironically, though, I wanted her to do the same thing to me.
"This case is continued and court is adjourned until we investigate this matter further." A public defender was appointed to me before the bailiff came over to escort me back to my cell.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched my mother exit the courtroom arm in arm with John, the so-called victim in this case. It tore me up on the inside to see her cry. She got to the double courtroom doors, looked back at me, and left out the door. Why did I feel as though that was the end of our already strained relationship?”
It had been over a month since I’d seen my mother in the courtroom. No letters, no visits, no nothing from her. My mind, body, and soul were all weary from trying to figure out why my own mother would disown me, especially at a time when I needed her most. I fought with myself over and over, wondering if I had done the right thing by telling on John. I thought stuff like this only happened on them Lifetime movies; I guess I was wrong.
As I lay on my bunk reading the hot new Joint, In My Girls I Trust, I heard the C/O call out my favorite two words.
"Mail call," the C/O yelled.
I don't know why I got excited when I heard mail call, because nobody ever wrote me. I guess I was just wishful at times.
"Parker, mail," the C/O said and slid a letter under my door.
I sat up on my bed and stared at the envelope for a brief second, thinking the C/O musta' made a mistake and slid the letter under the wrong door. I took my chances and walked over to get the letter off the floor. Even though there was no return address, I recognized my mother's handwriting. I quickly opened the envelope and began reading. My mind was put at ease as I read the letter that was addressed to me.
Dear Hayden,
I'm sorry it took me so long to write. I'm not going to beat around the bush with you. You will be an adult in a couple of months, so it's time for me to start treating you like one. What you said in court about John devastated me and had me in complete disbelief. I didn't know whether to believe you or not, because I know how you feel about him. John begged me to believe that he wouldn't do anything to hurt you, because he loves you like his blood runs through you. He had me convinced that you were lying on him until I sat back and evaluated your life.
I raised you to be a lady, but you showed me otherwise when you kept getting into trouble. I raised you to do your best in everything, but you chose to do otherwise when your grades went from A's to F's. I raised you to be respectful, but you chose a different route by being disobedient and defiant. But one thing I didn't do was raise you to be a liar, and that's why I now believe what you said about John
It kills me because I wasn't there to protect you from harm’s way. It hurts me to know that I failed you as a mother, and I know you resent me for it. But, baby, I gotta get my own life in order first before I can even attempt to help you get yours together. Please be patient with me. With God's help we can get through this.
Love, your mother
Tears of joy raced down my cheeks as I held the letter close to my heart. I could hardly wait to write my mother back to tell her that I didn’t blame her for anything. I wanted her to know that it was all John's fault.
For the next few weeks my mother and I wrote back and forth. She even came to visit me. She asked me how I would feel about moving to Kansas to start a new life. I don't know why she chose Tornado Alley, but anything other than Mansfield Ohio would do. I thought it was a good idea to get away from everything and everybody. My mother ran it by Judge Hilliard, and he also thought it would be in my best interest to leave Ohio. He told my mother that if we did leave Ohio, that he would dismiss my case only if I promised to stay out of trouble. He also made me promise not to come back. I didn’t know if he meant to court or back to Ohio period. The latter didn’t concern me any. Never coming back to Ohio was fine with me because there was nothing there but penitentiaries and bad memories, so the decision of never coming back didn’t bother me one bit.
Everything was falling into place. My mother put in for a transfer to the hospital in Kansas and was accepted. She put a For Sale sign in the front yard. All we had left to do was contact a realtor to find us a house in Kansas.
I was released from juvie and the tables had been turned because after reviewing my accusations further, John had been picked up and charged with GSI (Gross Sexual Imposition) and seven counts of rape, one for each year he molested me, one count of attempted rape and intimidation of a minor. He was sentenced to fourteen years in prison. I was happy for myself, but sad for my mother because I know deep down, she still had love for this man, despite what he'd done to me.
I couldn’t be mad at her though, because one thing I learned is that a person can't control someone else’s feelings. I just knew one thing; if she did decide to get back with John, she would have to wait fourteen years to do so.
Chapter Six
The drive to Kansas from Ohio took us two days. It was a long and tiring trip. My mother and I took turns driving, even though I didn't have my license yet. At first she objected to letting me behind the wheel, but at times she was way too tired to go on. I handled the U-haul like a champion even though driving through the mountains scared me.
We were fortunate enough that the realtor found us a small, but nice, and affordable house pretty quickly. We arrived at our new house around three in the morning. My mother and I were both too tired to move anything in. We just grabbed our blankets and pillows, went into the house, and lay on the floor. We didn't even bother looking around our new home before falling off to sleep.
Early the next morning, my mother and I began unloading the U-haul truck. We moved all the small boxes first, before taking on the task of the heavy items. As we struggled to move the couch, I noticed a big, burly female with cornrows standing on the porch next door watching us. She had strong masculine features. She stood like a man. She even held and puffed her cigarette like a man. The only way I could tell that she was of the female gender was by her breasts.
She watched as the couch slipped from my mother's grip and hit the ground. She jumped off the porch and ran over and lifted my mother's end up off the ground. The way her muscles stuck out from under her shirt, she could have carried the couch all by herself. She didn't say a word at first; she just helped unload the heavy items off the truck with no problem. I guess the morning sun was getting the best of her because she removed her shirt, revealing a crisp, white wife-beater. I was amazed at how her arms even resembled a man's. Muscles and tattoos decorated her upper body. She even had a few tattoos on her neck.