Chapter 2: Volume 1

I remember the days when I hadn't protected her.
Those days when I felt as though I was her enemy:
her feelings were so foreign to me...
during molestation and rape, my mind hated her
at times something the assailant did felt good to her:

He towered over my small frame and I was very afraid.
When he told me to pull it out, my entire body froze...I 
didn't want to do it, so I began to whimper. With tears flowing
down my caramel cheeks, he whispered in my ear: "If you cry, 
if you scream, if you make any noise, I'l kill your mama." I thought
If he'll kill my mom, he'll probably kill all of us. I glanced up to the top 
of the mattress at Ricki and Shannon and decided I would do it for us...
it would save all of our lives. I didn't want to watch them die because of me...
pretended like I couldn't do it, so he pulled it out himself. 


It was huge and it looked like an over-sized mushroom.
He made me kiss it.
I remember the smell: a musty, sweaty stench that almost
immediately made me nauseous.
I gaged on the vomit, then swallowed it...I held my breath 
while kissing it, but my nose was full of that smell storing it 
into my long-term memory forever.


My nose is full of that smell even today.
Just talking about it makes me smell it.

He ordered me to lay down. 
Once I did, he began with my mouth and stuck his tongue down my throat.
I gagged again and the acid from my stomach burned my throat as I swallowed it.


He worked his way down my body, licking me...it seemed as though he was tasting me. 
It felt so disgusting. As he licked, cool air would rush over his saliva making my skin cold.

I was naked.


My innocence was lost.


I looked up at the ceiling a told myself a story to distract my aching mind.
I just wanted to be a little girl and cry, but he said I couldn't, so as the tears
began to build in my eyes, I made them go back inside of me...I didn't want to 
watch my family die and I didn't want to die.
could it not be?
He continued down my body and between my legs. When he got there, he concentrated 
on something. This is where she and I had a quarrel. I never knew why I thought there was something wrong with what he was doing to me. It had to be wrong. How could it not be? 


But, when he got between my legs, something happened. He licked something and it felt so good. I was mortified! This is bad. It's not supposed to feel good...I must be bad. 


He did it again. I clinched my body and let loose an internal scream: "Noooooo! Stop it!" I warred with her. "Don't!" I felt a thumping inside of my body right around where he was licking. I think he could tell because he began to lick it harder. Then, he deposited a wad of spit down there. It was slimy and nasty. I nearly vomited again.


I hated that feeling...I was only six! What was it anyway?


He got up and straddled me on the bed rubbing his long mushroom on every part of my body that he had licked starting with my face...that smell...my gagging...I swallowed the vomit again. He ventured down my body to my until he got between my legs...he dug his mushroom in between that space and began humping me...He moaned...he grunted...he let out long gasps. Just then I thought about it.


I remembered thinking that my mom could hear it all. We could hear the same moans and groans when they were together. Why wasn't she coming in to save me?


Then, I remembered how severely he beat her. Maybe she was afraid. He was a big man. I rationalized...she's afraid of him...I understand...besides, I'm bad because I liked it, so it's all my fault anyway.

I spent my entire life combating that thought. Everything became my fault. I became apologetic and clingy and no one seemed to like me...no one seemed to fall in love with me.

He continued to stroke between my legs and at first, his wad of spit kept me from feeling the friction, but, as he  pumped harder and faster, the spit began to dry and he spat again. This time from a distance. It slithered out of his mouth like a worm who knew he was bait and was determined to be free. His spit seemed so slimy and there was so much of it as though he was mas producing it the whole time he was pumping. 


Not too long after he spat, his eyes rolled in the back of his head and his mouth dropped open. His eyes began to flicker. At that exact moment, I felt something warm between my...it was very warm. 


His body jerked. 
He made these really weird seemingly 
uncontrollable noises.
Then, he pulled his mushroom from between my legs and sprayed some gel-looking stuff all over me. The smell was different, but I didn't like it either.


He sprayed it all over me and some of it even got on my face near my nose and every time I took a breath I could smell it. I held my breath.


When he was done, he took me in the bathroom to wash me off. He simply ran a rag under warm water...no soap...and began to wipe me. The rag didn't have enough water on it, so it didn't get the stuff off; instead, he smeared it into my skin, which, when it dried, left white streaks all over my body.


It was sticky.

He put my t-shirt back on and told me to lay back down and I did, but I could smell the stuff with each breath. 


I was so angry at myself, yet I was happy that we were still alive...that made me feel better.


Even though I was a six year old, I remembered thinking that I would need to find a way to block that feeling. It was to complicated for a child to understand or even figure out, but I knew the opportunity would present itself when I would be able to bury that feeling.