Mercy

by Andrea Dworkin

  seal you in. Night comes and you have the rules o f the grave,

  different rules from daylight, they can do things at night,

  everyone can, they can’t do in the day; they will break the door

  down, no one here calls the police, I don’t have a gun, I have

  one knife, a pathetic thing, I sleep with it under m y pillow. I

  figure if someone’s right on top o f me I can split him apart

  with it. I figure if he’s already on top o f me because I didn’t

  hear him and didn’t see him because I was unconscious and I

  wake up and he’s there I can stick it in him or I can cut his

  throat. I figure it gives me time to come to, then I try for his

  throat, but if I’m too late, if I can’t get it, i f he’s som ehow so I

  can’t get his throat, then I can get his back. O r I can finish

  m yself o ff i f there’s no other w ay; I think about it each time I

  lie down to sleep, if I can do it, draw the knife across m y

  throat, fast, I try to prepare m yself to do it, in m y mind I make

  a vo w and I practice the stroke before I sleep. I think it’s better

  to kill him but I just can’t bear them no longer, really, and it’s

  unknown i f I could do it to me; so fast; but I keep practicing in

  m y mind so if the time comes I w o n ’t even think. It would be

  the right thing. I don’t really believe in hurting him or anyone.

  I have the knife; I can’t stand to think about using it, what it

  would be like, or going to jail for hurting him, I never wanted

  to kill anybody and I’d do almost anything not to. I know the

  men outside, they’re neighborhood, this block, they broke in

  before, in daylight, smashed everything, took everything,

  they ran riot in here, they tell me they’re coming to fuck me,

  they say so out on the street, hanging on the stoop; they say so.

  T h ey’ve broken in here before, that’s when I started sleeping

  with the knife. Inside there’s too many hours to dawn; too

  many hours o f dark to hold them off; they’ll get in; I know this

  small world as well as they do, I know what they can do and

  what they can’t do and once it’s night they can break the door

  down and no one will stop them; and the police don’t come

  here; you never see a cop here; there’s no w ay to keep them out

  and m y blood’s running cold from the banging, from the noise

  o f them, fists, knives, I don’t know what, sticks, I guess,

  maybe baseball bats, the arsenal o f the streets. The telephone’s

  worthless, they cut the wire when they broke in; but no one

  would come. This is the loneliest I ever knew existed; now;

  them banging. There’s things you learn, tricks; no one can

  hurt me. I’m not some stupid piece o f shit. Y ou got a gang

  outside, banging, making threats. They want to come in;

  fuck. T h ey’ll kill me; fuck me dead or kill me after. It’s like

  anything, you have to face what’s true, you don’t get to say if

  you want to handle it or not, you handle it to stay alive. So

  what’s it to me; if I can just get through it; minimum damage,

  minimum pain, the goal o f all women all the time and it’s not

  different now. If you’re ever attacked by a gang you have to

  get the leader. If you get him, disable him, pull him away from

  the others, kill him, render him harmless, the others are

  nothing. If you miss him, attack him but miss, wound him,

  irritate him, aggravate him, rile him, humiliate him without

  taking him out, you are human waste, excreta. So it’s clear;

  there’s one way. There’s him. I have to get him. if I can pull

  him away from them, to me, I have a chance; a chance. I open

  the door. I think if I grab him between the legs I’m in charge; if

  I pull his thing. I learn the limits o f m y philosophy. Every

  philosophy’s got them. I ain’t in charge. It’s fast. It’s simple. I

  open the door. It’s a negotiation. The agreement is he comes

  in, they stay out; he doesn’t bring the big knife he has in with

  him; it stays outside; if I mess with him, he will hurt me with it

  and turn me over to them; if anything bad happens to him or if

  I don’t make him happy, he will turn me over to them. This is

  consent, right? I opened the door myself. I picked him. I just

  got to survive him; and tom orrow find a w ay out; away from

  here. He comes in; he’s Pedro or Jo e or Juan; he swaggers,

  touches everything, there’s not much left he notes with

  humor; he wants me to cook him dinner; he finds m y knife; he

  keeps it; he keeps saying what he’ll do to me with it; I cook; he

  drinks; he eats; he keeps talking; he brags; he talks about the

  gang, keeps threatening me, what he’ll do to me, what they’ll

  do to me, aspects o f lovemaking the gang would also enjoy

  and maybe he’ll just let them in now or there’s time after,

  they’re waiting, right outside, maybe he’ll call them in but

  they can come back tom orrow night too, there’s time, no need

  to w orry, nice boys in the gang, a little rough but I’ll enjoy

  them, w o n ’t I? Then he’s ready; he’s excited himself; he’s even

  fingered him self and rubbed himself. Like the peace boys he

  talks with his legs spread wide open, his fingers lightly

  caressing his cock, the denim pulled tight, exerting its own

  pressure. He goes to the bed and starts to undress and he runs

  one hand through the hair on his chest and he holds the knife in

  the other hand, he fingers the knife, he rubs his thumb over it

  and he caresses it and he keeps talking, seductive talk about

  how good he is and how good the knife is and I’m going to like

  them both and he’s got a cross on a chain around his neck and it

  glistens in his hair, it’s silver and his skin is tawny and his hair

  on his chest is black and curly and thick and it shines and I’m

  staring at it thinking it shouldn’t be there, the shiny cross, I am

  having these highly moral thoughts against the blasphemy o f

  the cross on his chest, I think it is w rong and concentrate on

  the im m orality o f wearing it now, doing this, w hy does he

  wear it, what does it mean, his shirt is o ff and his pants are

  coming o ff and he is rapturous with the knife in his hand and I

  look at the cross and I look at the knife and I think they are both

  for me, he will hold the knife, maybe I can touch the cross, I

  will try to touch it all through and maybe it will be something

  or mean something or I w o n ’t feel so frightened, so alone in

  this life now, and I think I will just touch it, and there’s him,

  there’s the cross, there’s the knife, and I’m under them and I

  don’t know, I will never remember, the hours are gone, blank,

  a tunnel o f nothing, and I’m naked, the bell rings, it’s light

  outside so it’s been five hours, six, there’s a knock on the door,

  insistent knocking, he says don’t answer it, he says don’t

  move, he holds the knife against me, just under m y skin, the

  tip just under it, and I try to fight for m y life, I say it’s a friend

  who expects me to be here and will not go away and I will have

  to answer the doo
r and I w on’t say anything and I w on’t tell or

  say anything bad, I will just go to the door to tell m y friend to

  go away, to convince him everything’s fine, and someone’s

  knocking and he has a deep voice and I don’t know what I will

  do when I reach the door or who it is on the outside or what

  will happen; but I’m hurt; dizzy; reeling; can’t feel anything

  but some obscure pain somewhere next to me or across the

  room and I don’t know what he’s done, I don’t look at any part

  o f me, I cover m yself a little with a sheet, I pull it over me and I

  don’t look down, I have trouble keeping m y head steady on

  m y shoulders, I don’t know if I can walk from the bed to the

  door, and I think I can open the door maybe and just keep

  walking but I am barely covered at all and maybe the gang’s

  outside and you can’t walk naked in a sheet, they’ll just hurt

  you more; anyone will. I can’t remember and I can barely

  carry m y head up and I have this one chance; because I can’t

  have him do more; you see? I got up, I put something around

  me, over me, a sheet or something, just held it together where

  I could, and I took some steps and I kept whispering to the

  man with the knife in m y bed that I would just get rid o f the

  man at the door because he wouldn’t go away if I didn’t come

  to the door and really I would just make him go aw ay and I

  kept walking to the door to open it, not knowing if I would fall

  or if the man in the bed would stick the knife in me before I got

  there, or who was on the other side o f the door and what he

  would do; would he run or laugh or walk away; or was it a

  member o f the gang, wanting some. It was cool and clear and

  light outside and it was a man I didn’t know except a little, a

  big man, so tall, so big, such a big man, and I whispered to him

  to help me, please help me, and I talked out loud that I couldn’t

  come out now for breakfast like we had planned and I

  whispered to say that I was hurt and that the man inside was a

  leader o f a gang and I indicated the big knife on the w indow

  ledge, out o f m y reach, a huge dagger, almost a sword, that I

  had got the man to leave outside and I whispered that he was in

  m y bed now with a knife and out loud I tried to say normal

  things very loud but I was dizzy and I wasn’t sure I could keep

  standing and the big man caught on quick and said normal

  things loud, questions so I could answer them and didn’t have

  to think o f new things because I’m shaking and I say the m an’s

  in m y bed with a knife and please help me he was with a gang

  and I don’t know where they are and maybe they’re around

  and they’ll show up and it’s dangerous but please help me and

  the big man strides in, he doesn’t take the big knife, I almost

  die from fear but he just does it, I used m y chance and there’s

  none left, he has long legs and they cover the distance to the

  bed in a second and the man in m y bed is fumbling with the

  knife and the big man, so big, with long legs, says I’m his; his

  girl; his; this is an insult to him; an outrage to him; and the man

  in the bed with the knife says nothing, he grovels, he sweats,

  he asks forgiveness, he didn’t mean no harm, you know how it

  is man; and hey they agree it’s just a misunderstanding and

  they talk and the man in m y bed with the knife is sweating and

  the man who saved me is known to be dangerous, he is

  known, a known very serious man, a quiet man, a major man,

  and he says he’s m y man and I’m his woman and he don’t want

  me having no trouble with sniveling assholes and any insult he

  throws makes the man in m y bed with the knife sweat more

  and grovel more and the big man, the man with the long legs,

  he speaks very soft, and he says that now the man in the bed

  with the knife w ill leave and the man in the bed with the knife

  fumbles to put his pants on and fumbles to put his shirt on and

  fumbles to get his shoes on and the big man, the man with the

  long legs, says quietly, politely, that nobody had ever better

  mess with me anymore and the man who was in m y bed with

  the knife says yeah and sure and please and thank you and I am

  some kind o f prom queen, bedecked, bejeweled, crowned

  princess, because the man with the long legs says I am his, and

  Pedro or Juan or Jo e is obsequious and he says he is sorry and

  he says he didn’t understand and he says he made a mistake and

  they chat and I’m shaking bad, I’m there covered a little, I’m

  shaking and I’m not really covered and I’m covered in sweat

  and I’m trying not to fall down faint and I’m shaking so much

  I’m nearly naked, I’m hurt, my head falls down and I see my

  skin, all bruised anywhere you can see as if I turned blue or

  someone painted me blue, and there’s blood on me but I can’t

  look or keep m y eyes open, I’m just this side o f dead but I’m

  holding on, I’m shaking but I got something covering me

  somewhere and I’m just not quite dead, I’m keeping something covering me somewhere, and Pedro or Juan or Jo e

  leaves, he leaves mumbling an apology to the big man and I’m

  saying thank you to the big man with serious formality, quiet

  and serious and concentrating, and I’m something that ain’t

  fresh and new, I’m something that ain’t clean, and I don’t

  know anything except he’s got to go now because I have to

  curl up by m yself to die now, it’s time, I’m just going to put

  m yself down on the bed, very careful, very slow, on m y side

  with m y knees raised a little, curled up a little, and I’m going to

  God, I am going to ask God to take me in now, I am going to

  forgive Him and I am going to put aside all m y grudges against

  Him for all what He did wrong and for all the pain I ever had or

  saw and I am going to ask Him to take me away now from

  here and to somewhere else where I don’t have to move ever

  again, where I can be curled up a little and nothing hurts and

  whatever hurts don’t have to m ove and that I don’t have to

  wake up no more but the big man ain’t through and I say later

  or tom orrow or come back and he says I have to pay m y debts

  and he talks and he threatens and he has a deep voice and he is.

  big and he has long arms and he isn’t leaving, he says, and he is

  strong and he pulls me down and gets on top o f me and says I

  owe him and he fucks me and I say God Y ou must stop him

  now but God don’t stop him, God don’t have no problem

  with this, God rides on the back o f the man and I see Him there

  doing it and the man uses his teeth on me where men fuck and

  G od ’s for him and I’m wondering w hy He likes people being

  hurt and I’m past hating Him and past Him and I can’t beg

  Him no more for respite or help or death and the big man has

  his teeth between m y legs, inside me and on the flesh all

  around, he’s biting, not a little, deep bites, he’s using his teeth

  and biting into the lips o f m y labia and I’m thinking this is not

  happening and
it is not possible and it is not true and I am

  thinking it will stop soon because it must stop soon but it does

  not stop soon because the man has fucked but it means nothing

  to him except he had to do it so he did it but this is w hy he is

  here, the real reason, this biting in this place, he is wanting to

  do this other awful thing that is not like anything anyone ever

  did before and I say this is not happening and even Y ou are not

  so cruel to let this man do this and keep doing it and not

  making him stop but the man has long arms and he’s driven, a

  passionate man, and he holds me down and he has long legs

  and he uses his arms and legs to keep me pinned down and he is

  so big, so tall, he can have his face down there and still he

  covers me to hold me down, m y shoulders, m y breasts; but

  m y head twists back and forth, side to side, like some loose

  head o f a doll screwed on wrong. He is cutting me open with

  his teeth, he looks up at me, he bites more, he says lovers’

  things, he is the great lover and he is going slow, with his

  mouth, with his teeth, and then watching m y head try to

  screw itself o ff m y neck; and he gets in a frenzy and there’s no

  words for this because pain is littler and sweeter and someday

  it ends but this doesn’t end, will not end, it will never end, it’s

  dull, dirty, rusty knives cutting my labial lips or the edge o f a

  rusty tin can and it’s inside me, his teeth reaching inside me

  turning me inside out, the skin, he is pulling me open and he is

  biting inside me and I’m thinking that pain is a river going

  through me but there’s no words and pain isn’t a river, there’s

  just one great scream past sound and my mind moves over, it

  moves out o f m y head, I feel it escape, it runs away, it says no,

  not this, no and it says you cannot but the man does and my

  mind just fucking falls out o f my brains and I am past being

  anything God can help anyway and He’s making the man

  stronger, H e’s making the man happy, the man likes this, he is

  liking this, and he is proud to be doing it so good like a good