I have no witty words for you, or appropriate pictures to include in this chapter. All I have are these ugly words and memories, some so ugly I've had to black them out.
Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth" makes me sick to my stomach every time I hear it. I use to sing karaoke to that song back when I was in first grade for a man named Frank. Frank was a fat white man, with red chubby cheeks and bad body odor. His shirts were always wet with perspiration and his face shinny and greasy. He was a heavy breather. He was friends with my mother.
He had a karaoke machine and a water bed.
I can't remember where my mother was the first time it happened. I was alone with him and he was letting me play with his karaoke machine. I knew all the words to "For What It's Worth", so I sang that for him over and over. He told me to pretend I was a real singer and dance while I performed. I danced. He asked me to come and sit next to him. He picked me up and put me on his lap.
Then he molested me.
I squirmed under his grip and tried to roll away from him. He used his other arm to wrap around my waist and hold me there. He was breathing heavy and his sweat was soaking through his shirt and I could feel it wet behind my back. I remember the smell. I knew what was happening was bad. I knew he was a bad bad man. I felt helpless and terrified. I was praying to God....the Holy Spirit, even the Spirits in my father's stories, and to anyone... for anyone.. to come so it would end.
I don't remember how long it went on for, but I remember afterwards I felt like I had done something unspeakable. I felt ashamed. I didn't tell anyone. This horrible thing had happened to me and I felt alone. I felt like somehow his disgusting sweat had rubbed off on me and I couldn't wash it off. I was disgusting now too. I couldn't let anyone know.
Every time we went over Frank's house after that I did everything in my power not to be left alone with him. He tried to get me to sing on his karaoke machine and I just shook my head like I was embarrassed. My mom teased me and told me things like, "Stop acting like a baby! You always sing at home, you are just being a brat." She wanted me to sing for him.
I never sang over there again.
I could feel his eyes watching me. His fat fingers were always finding their way to my skin. He would put his hand up the back of my shirt when my mother made me hug him hello, rest his hand on my leg if I were forced to sit next to him, and caress my arm if I walked by him.
One night they were planning on having a barbecue. My mother got there early to help do the cooking. It was just me, my mom and Frank. I suddenly developed an interest in learning how to barbecue. My mother realized as we were setting up that she didn't have enough meat and decided to run across the street to the grocery store. She wanted me to stay with Frank while she went. I shook my head at her in desperation and started to whine, "Please mom, let me go?... Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Inside my head I was praying and making promises to God. Promises that I would believe in him, promises that I would be a good girl, promises that I would do anything for him. God did not hear me. I started to cry. My mother rolled her eyes and told me to stop. "Why are you being such a baby?"
Because I'm only 7.
When she left I stood there staring at the closed door for a few seconds with my back to Frank, afraid to turn around. I was so terrified I couldn't breath, goosebumps spread all over my arms and my heart started to beat too fast. He called me to him. He made me stand between his legs and grabbed my hand and it put it down his pants. It was hot and wet, and smelled bad. I pulled out my hand immediately. He put it back. I pulled it out again and he put it back... again and again and more forcibly everytime. Then he picked me up in frustration, sat me next to him and started to touch me. His breath came out in a struggle and his sweat dripped off his head onto the skin on my thighs. He took his hand out of my panties and rubbed it all over his sweaty face and then shoved his fingers in my mouth.
Will my life be better if I forgive this man? Will I have more peace? Will I be happier? These are questions that I ask myself. Let me give you the truth. I'd be happier if I could put a bullet between his eyes. A world without Frank seems like it would bring me a whole lot of peace and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I'm not going to forgive him because religion tells me I should. I moved on. I forgot him till now. I'm living my best life. I've decided to be happy.
There are kids out there that are living with a disgusting secret. A secret they think makes them alone in the world. Listen to your children and please find out why they are crying before you call them a "baby."
Will my life be better if I forgive this man? Will I have more peace? Will I be happier? These are questions that I ask myself. Let me give you the truth. I'd be happier if I could put a bullet between his eyes. A world without Frank seems like it would bring me a whole lot of peace and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I'm not going to forgive him because religion tells me I should. I moved on. I forgot him till now. I'm living my best life. I've decided to be happy.
There are kids out there that are living with a disgusting secret. A secret they think makes them alone in the world. Listen to your children and please find out why they are crying before you call them a "baby."
No comments:
Post a Comment