I walk alone in this world.
I’m a man.
Don’t nobody give me shit, I takes mine.
I heard a man saying to me, “Young man, state your name.” “Hellooo,” he was snapping his fingers in my face.” Please state your name for the court.” I looked over and noticed a judge staring at me. I was sitting on the stand in a court room. I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I ended up here. I must have blacked out again. I’ve been blacking out since I was seven or eight years old. I sat there, looking around in amazement at all these strangers looking back at me. And then I thought, I’d better tell them who I am.
My name is Bryant. Bryant Sails. I’m seventeen years old and I saw my Daddy drop my Step-Mother, dirty Agnes is what I call her, to her knees for the last time with a .38 to the head.
He killed her because he got tired of the secret.
People think he killed her for me, but he didn’t kill her for me. He killed her for himself. For his pride.
I mean, how would you feel if you came home from work early and your wife had her mouth on your thirteen year old son in places she should never even see, let alone touch. How would you feel if you woke up and your wife was in the basement screaming in ecstasy, and you follow the sound and discover your same thirteen year old son was on top of your wife, and she was loving it.
My dad screamed at her. He pulled us apart. He never asked me questions, but he always would slap Agnes and tell her she was a child molester and she better stop this shit. Then I would hear them fighting and yelling.
Next, it was silence, followed by loud music and the next thing I knew, Agnes would be screaming in ecstasy again, this time with my Daddy on top of her.
I was confused.
I didn’t know it was wrong. It seemed wrong, but then the way they carried on after, it seemed normal.
This went on for along time.
I grew up way too fast. Always walking around with my manhood hard. Always sitting around tugging and pulling at it. Always sitting around looking at girls. Sometimes looking at boys. I would fantasize about a whole bunch of women and girls all clawing for me and ripping my clothes off. Then I would feel the knot on my head. A knot on my forehead that had been there for as long as I could remember, the knot was a reminder. And my time was coming. I wanted mines.
When I was 7 years old. My dad married Agnes. He was in love with her I guess. She was from out of state in the Carolina’s daddy said, and they met at a rest stop when he was stopping for gas. My dad was a truck driver. My mother left, and she wasnt coming back so Daddy said I needed a mother to take care of me while he was on the road.
That woman was Agnes.
She was ok I guess. She couldn’t cook much, I mean Daddy was a better cook than Agnes. She always had some cook book out trying to learn something to fix for dinner and I would help her with the recipes. She would get so frustrated and call her brother, Todd, who had also moved to town in search of a better life. They were like best friends. I assumed that Todd was her only friend. He cooked for me and Agnes, and his food was even better than Daddys. He would come over and play cards and get drunk with Agnes and Daddy when he was home, and a couple of regulars from our neighborhood. Todd was funny. He talked funny, he walked funny, and always had drinks and pills for them; colorful pills I couldn’t touch, but that’s okay because he usually had candy and snacks for me. He called me ‘little man’. “Hey little man, I got some snacks for you.”
One Saturday night. The house was full of people. The music was so loud you had to scream to talk. They were all drinking and singing. Some passed out on the couch. I saw Daddy and Agnes take those funny little pills again. I was bored out of my mind. I only sat around waiting to see if Todd had anything for me. When I asked him, he said “oh yea, I brought you some popcorn and candy little man, it’s in a bag down in the basement, go head down there and get it”.
I bolted to the basement.
I looked everywhere. In the back bedroom, there was no bag of snacks. On the sofa, there was no bag of snacks. I searched everywhere, even in the laundry room and I still didn’t see it.
What I did see was Todd coming down the basement steps with the bag of snacks.
“You looking for this bag little man.”
I grinned, and ran to get the bag from Todd, but he held the bag up in the air to high for me to reach.
He started laughing, “little man, you can have the snacks, but first, you have to play a game for me and if you win, you can have the whole bag.”
Ok; that seemed easy enough, and it’s a game so I’ll play and then I can get my popcorn and candy.
We went to the back bedroom in the basement and Todd shut and locked the door. I kept my eye on that bag, but curious to see what game we were gonna play.
Uno maybe. Or pick up sticks, G.I. Joe, race cars. I waited, but Todd had none of that in mind. He said it was hide and seek, and I had to find him. He blind folded me, and then he hid. He told me to count until he said he was ready. I started to count. 1, 2, 3, 4….10….20….30, 31….40, and when I got to 42, he said ready.
I looked all over the room and I didn’t see Todd anywhere. I looked under the bed. He wasn’t there. I looked in the closet and there he was. But something wasn’t right. He was naked with a foolish grin on his face. I thought he was too drunk to hide and took off his clothes to get into bed but got into the closet instead. Then he told me to come into the closet.
“No,” I said.
I didn’t want to play anymore. He asked me did I still want the popcorn and candy and of course, I said yea, so he told me, “well, its here in the closet. You have to come in and get it.”
I went into the closet, and then he told me to take off my clothes too. I told him I didn’t want to. He told me to sit down and when I did, he said give me your hand little man, and he put my hand on his thing. I didn’t want to touch it. It was a weird feeling, and kind of slippery. He kept moving my hand up and down his thing and then he closed his eyes. I just sat there and i didn’t know what this game was but it wasn’t fun to me. Why is Todd making these noises and why is he moving my hand faster and faster. Then he told me to put my tongue on it. I shook my head no. He pushed my head to it, but I wouldn’t do it. He just looked at me and said, “Ok, I’m gonna show you how to do it. He opened the bag of snacks and gave me some candy and bubble gum, but I didn’t want it. I only wanted to go upstairs to my room and forget I ever came down here. Todd started taking off my pants, then he took off my underwear and he touched my thing the way he had me touching his. I was in a state of shock. Why is he doing this. I feel dirty. And I’m scared. I want him to stop but at rhis moment, I can’t say a word.
And then he did it.
He licked my thing.
He licked it.
He sucked it.
He asked me, “don’t it feel good?”
And this is the moment that my voice came back.
I screamed so loud so that my Dad could come and rescue me. But my Daddy or anyone else could hear me because the music upstairs was blaring loud.
Todd told me to relax.
He said he wasn’t going to hurt me.
But he lied.
He did hurt me.
He kissed me all over and I still didn’t know why he was doing this. Why did he call this a game. It wasn’t fun. Todd told me it was a game that only me and him could play because we were special and we were men. If I cried or told anyone, they would call me a sissy and a girl. Only real men played this game and that my daddy had played with his uncle when he was small. But I couldn’t tell Daddy. I couldn’t tell anyone and he wouldn’t tell either and it would be our secret. He wiped my face that was full of tears and kissed me and told me that he loved me. He told me to fix my clothes, to take my bag of snacks upstairs, and go to bed.
And I did just as he said. I said nothing. I took my bag of snacks upstairs and I climbed into bed. But I didn’t sleep. I sat there with my light on and my door locked with the covers pulled over my head. I never knew a thing about being scared until that night. I was scared to death of Uncle Todd and his thing. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. I closed my eyes and I would see it. Opened my eyes and I would still see it. I got up from the bed and rammed my head into the wall. I kept doing it over and over again. I felt myself getting dizzy, but I didn’t stop because I still saw his thing, so I banged my head harder into the wall over and over and then, everything went black.
I will post the next part next week or so. This is a continuation of my short story, You Don’t Know My Shame, originally posted herehttps://deejourneyofafabmom.wordpress.com/2014/01/22/you-dont-know-my-shame/ and also continued herehttps://deejourneyofafabmom.wordpress.com/2014/01/24/you-dont-know-my-shame-continued/ This story is a work of fiction. I was reminded by someone that boys are abused, molested, and victimized by women also. The characters come alive in my head, and I believe these stories haven’t been told enough. We are often faced with individuals who we deem truly crazy, and out of their minds, and I believe some people are that way, but my mind wanders off to think, how did they get that way. It’s almost, always some underlying childhood abuse or rage that took place. And then we read headlines where people have done senseless acts. I’m not vindicating anyone. I’m simply here for the children. The voiceless ones. The hurt ones. The lost ones. As a victim of childhood abuse myself, I feel it my duty to bring awareness, and create a dialog that will prayerfully evoke some sort of change. As uncomfortable as it is to read, its that much harder for me to write. But… these kids need us. They need us to advocate, to speak up and tell their stories. This…. is my contribution.
Each one, teach one.
Peace and love,