Mardi Gras is something I wanted to experience at least once in my life. The colors, music, parades and food called me every year from across the bayou. Growing up, I lived close enough to know people who had gone but far enough away that I couldn’t go by myself. With my father, it was considered a heinous crime to even WANT to go because New Orléans was full of niggers and it was a nigger holiday.
My father was part of the local KKK group and we didn’t have many blacks in our town that I knew of. Honestly I don’t remember the blacks we had in our school except for one very tall girl who sang like nothing I’d ever heard before. My father caught me talking to her once and I couldn’t walk for two days after he got done beating me.
He beat us often, my brothers and I. Usually for trivial things we’d get beaten but the big things were overlooked. Once, I was caught by a security guard in the store near our house, stealing candy bars. They called my parents and I had to walk home, four blocks, knowing my father was waiting at home to beat me. When I got home, he sent me to my room to do my homework. It was never mentioned again. Shortly afterward, a month maybe, I was caught smoking in the park near our house. I ended up with a bloody nose, black eye and severe headaches for weeks after that beating. I was in third grade.
The little mobile home park we lived in for a while in Pasadena was situated near a XXX drive in theater. Behind our house was a large grassy area that was totally overgrown with weeds and trash. We’d made a fort among the trash and overgrowth and from the door we could see the screen of the theater. There were many nights when my brothers and I or my girlfriend who was 13, would lay out there and watch the movies. A few nights my girlfriend would masturbate while watching and taught me how to do it myself. She was the first female I’d tasted and the very first time I’d been gone down on. I loved the taste and feel of her body, her small breasts becoming larger, it seemed, overnight. I loved being held by her. She was so tender and sweet. I think I actually fell in love with her. When my father discovered us kissing in my bedroom, he forbade us seeing each other again. I was devastated and can only think this was a big part of the beginning of my lifelong depression.
When I met my best friend, I remember thinking she was totally awesome. We did everything together. We smoked pot, tried drinking, her for the first time, got in trouble, slept at each others houses, snuck off to the beach at night. I was a terrible influence on her
I was in the same room with her when she lost her virginity. It was a shed we were in and we were separated by a piece of plywood. Steve and I were screwing like rabbits and I heard her crying, telling Walt to stop, he was hurting her. I told her to relax and the pain would stop, just breath and calm down. She quieted down and I kept fucking Steve. I knew if my father knew I was being fucked by a mexican, especially Steve, he’d be pissed. That just made it more important that I open my legs for him as often as possible. I often slipped out the window to have sex with him, walking a block from the house so my dad wouldn’t hear his motorcycle as we rode away.
Walt was the guy Barb lost her virginity to and I hear tell, 20 some years later, they are still together. If it’s true, I’m so very happy if she’s still happy with him. I miss her horribly as the years go by.
I walk down 30th street for a few blocks and see a sign pointing to a set of stairs going into the ground. I wander down and am greeted by a toll station. I read the signs and figure out I have to take the N train. Why didn’t they just call them trains for heaven’s sake? I ask myself as I pay the toll and go through the turnstiles. I find a whole new experience awaiting me past those things! I’ve never liked basements but this was a whole train station below ground. I look around, dumbfounded as the train noisily screeches to a halt. I slip in through the open doors and find a place to sit among other passengers. Gripping the handrail, my breath is stolen from me as we head off through the dark tunnel toward Manhattan. So I hope.
I strike up a conversation with a woman nearby. She’s got a fussy baby in her arms and looks to be about my age. Turned out she was only fifteen and the baby was hers. Talking to her made me miss my little guy down in Texas. I made up my mind to go see him soon as I had enough money for the bus.
I’m fascinated by the subway. I’ve never imagined a train like this in my life. I start thinking about how people take this type of thing for granted. I’m lost in daydreams when the girl gets off and a man sits down beside me.
Stepping into the darkness from the subway and squinting as my eyes adjust to the change of light, I hear a man’s voice behind me. My blood turns to ice. It’s Hollywood and he looks pissed. Frantically I look for someone to help me. He grabs me by the hair and drags me into the alley as I scream for help. He drags me, screaming and scratching, behind a pile of trash where he slams me against the wall, face first. He’s growling at me and pressing my face against the bricks, my cheek and nose scratched by their roughness. He’s telling me to shut up or he’ll gut me, that I owe him money and he wants it. He’s growling in my ear now, asking me if I want his cock in my ass again, if that’s why I dissed him, because I wanted him mad like that. I’m sobbing now, begging him to stop, to leave me alone. A part of me is numb as the other part struggles against his grip. His body presses me against the wall and I feel his hardness against my ass, my now naked breasts pressed painfully against the bricks as well. He thrusts against my back as he’s talking, his voice growing lustful as he continues to grip my hair. I can feel blood trickling down my neck from the gouges on my cheek and I know, without a doubt, that he’s going to rape me again.
A mans voice behind us gets his attention and he turns with an animalistic growl. The man is softly telling Hollywood to let me go. Hollywood says he’s my pimp and the man needs to leave us or he’s a dead man. The man looks at me and frowns. I plead with him to help me but he turns and walks away. Hollywood turns to me again and shoves me into the pile of garbage. He lunges at me and tears at my pants, trying to pull them off my flailing legs. I’m biting him hard, struggling against him, trash flying with each turn of my body. Something sharp bites into the back of my left shoulder and stops me, momentarily. He takes this opportunity to strip my pants off and slip between my now naked legs. I pull my shoulder off the spike and wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him into me suddenly. His thick shaft skewers me fully and I cry out in surprise. He ravages me, biting my shoulder as he rams into me with a grunt, my shoulder again impaled on the sharp object in the trash. He fucks me hard for a few minutes then pulls out and turns me over, shoving my face into the black bags of garbage. My hand finds the sharp thing and grabs ahold, pulling it from the depths of refuse. It’s a screwdriver with a flat tip, covered in blood.
He rams his thickness into my ass, my scream of pain muffled by the bags/ I can’t breathe because the bags are pressed against my face. I shove myself backwards to get a breath and he mistakes the movement for acceptance and grabs my hips. I pull forward fast and turn halfway over, his cock deep in my ass. With the screwdriver in hand, I swing my fist toward his face. The tip of the tool drives into his right eye and he screams in pain before falling backward. I stumble to my feet, looking at him as he screams. Someone comes running down the alley and I hear a police radio behind me. Everything seems to be moving really slow, like a dream. The officer rushes to Hollywood who has gone silent. He looks at me, questioningly and I fall to my knees, sobbing.
The ambulance screams into the night, its lights flashing into the distance as I answer questions shot at me by the officer. Yes I knew him, no it wasn’t consensual, yes he raped me, yes, no, yes, no all the questions answered in monotone because I’m in shock. I’m shivering though I’ve been able to at least put my pants back on, thankfully. The second ambulance arrives and they settle me onto the gurney as the officer continues asking questions. He gets done and tells the driver to go on as the doors close. The attendants are curtious and efficient, slipping an iv in my arm with practiced ease.
Soon enough we arrive at the hospital and I’m taken into a quiet room where they do a rape kit and tend my injuries, giving me a tetanus shot because of the wounds. My shoulder wound is irrigated and sutured shut. A code is called a few times while I’m tended to but the doctor doesn’t leave me till he’s done. His hands are warm and gentle, his face somehow familiar to me. I’m never alone here, they have a rape hotline volunteer with me. She’s really nice and offers to get me things after the exam is done.
The doctor says he wants to keep me in over night to keep me safe, if there are any problems with shock. They take me up to my room and the volunteer asks if she should stay. I tell her no, I was just going to go to sleep. She leaves and I drift off to sleep in the quiet of the warm room.
I’m watching cartoons and eating breakfast when the officer comes in. He turns off the television and sits on the chair by my bed. I can tell by the look on his face that something is wrong. He asks me a few questions about Hollywood then sighs before telling me that he was dead. I ask if I’ll be charged with anything and he says no, it was self-defense. He then asks me where I’m from. I tell him and he nods and says they will get me back to Denver and I can’t leave the hospital till they get me a ticket. I lay back after he leaves and think about what I’d done. I killed a man….
I’m wandering the streets of Manhattan, looking in the shops and the people going by. I’m stopped by a rack of clothing coming out of a shop, the colors stuttering past my eyes as suddenly as a flock of birds erupting from the grass. A man puts his hand on my arm before I fall backward onto the concrete. I laugh and take my arm from his hand with a “thank ya Sir” and he looks at me, surprised. “You’re not from here are you, young lady?” He asks “That obvious, is it? Am I that out of place?” I laugh. He shakes his head and smiles “Nah, I just don’t hear that accent here very often. Southern, isn’t it?” I giggle and nod “Yup, from Texas, Y’all. I just done left my hat back at the ranch with the horses ass… I mean my dad” He laughs and we stand there talking for a while about general stuff. Why I’m there and such. I make up a story about my mom and dad being off to a theater or something and he sees right through it. He takes my hand and we walk a ways from the bustling street to a quieter side street before I realize what he’s doing.
He stops before a door and looks me over “you want to go inside?” I look at the grungy building and shrug “um.. I suppose.. This your apartment or something?” He laughs “Or something” and opens he door. A tiny lobby inside, dark stairs leading up from a glass window. He hands the man some money and gets a key then takes my hand and leads me upstairs. The smells are awful, the walls are dirty and covered in graffiti. The door he opens is splintered but lockable. I stand outside the door and look at the tiny room, barely big enough for the bed inside and the sink. There’s no bathroom. I look at him and ask “um… what is this?”
He grabs my hair and pulls me inside, tossing me on the bed and locking the door. I lay on the bed with a wry grin. “Feisty are you?” He laughs then looks at me seriously “How old are you?” “Seventeen” I say as I strip off my shirt “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be an adult. You’re a bit older than I normally go for but you look younger so that’s all good. Now, we’re going to play like I’m your daddy and you’ve been a very bad girl.” Immediately I’m crying and begging him not to spank me. It’s obviously very much what he wants and we play like that for a while. He spanks me with his belt then fucks me hard, choking me as he cums, his hands thick and hard around my throat. I start to struggle, thinking he’s really going to kill me. My heart thundering in my chest as I orgasm myself, my body bursting wildly just as he releases my throat and falls on me, gasping and shuddering. I lay there, gasping and shaking, feeling his weight on me, stealing my breath. He catches his breath and lifts up on one elbow, looking at me while his cock shrinks “very nice… yeah, that was good, baby girl. I think I’ll see you again, if you’re around sometime.” I’m laying there, still trying to catch my breath as he climbs off and gets dressed. He takes out his wallet and tosses me some money “Get yourself something nice and sexy. You did good.” I wait till he leaves to get dressed, picking up the money as I gather my clothes. I reek of sex and sweat but I really don’t care. I just want to get out of here and get some air. I’m finding it difficult to catch my breath and the room is getting smaller.
I’m gasping, gulping air as I burst through the door to the outside, leaning over a drain and puking. I feel panicked and dirty, sick to my stomach from something. My mind flashes on him putting money on my nightstand and another wave of nausea flows over me. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of memories that wash over me, a tidal wave of horror from my past. I hear concerned voices behind me, a hand touches my back and I scream before bolting into traffic and onto the sidewalk on the other side. Everywhere I look, I see him and his friends, touching me, raping me. I feel them grabbing me roughly and strike out, my fists landing on someone. I’m scratching and biting people, terrified for my life.
I listen to them talking in hushed voices, feeling pain everywhere. I slowly try to move my arms and find my left wrist attached to the gurney as I open my eyes. I can tell I’m in a hospital. The lights are bright and I’m squinting painfully when the nurse comes in to check on me. “Oh, you’re awake, good. How do you feel sweety?” I yawn and smile at her “I’m OK… can you tell me what I’m here for? Oh and why I’m handcuffed to the bed?” She smiles back at me gently and says “I’ll get the doctor for you hun, you just relax and we’ll be right back”
She brings back a woman that looks very young . She comes to my side and takes my free hand in hers, checking my pulse as she looks into my eyes with a kind smile “you’re looking a world better than you did when they brought you in. How do you feel?” “I’m sore but… what happened anyway? Why am I in here?” I ask “You’ve had a breakdown from all appearances. We didn’t find any illegal drugs in your system so it wasn’t drug induced hallucinations.. I should start with questions.. What do you remember?” She watches me intently and I’m wondering if she’s a shrink or something. “Well, I got sick, like throwing up, then… I don’t know… um…. “ I looked at her, unsure. “I… I thought someone was hurting me.. I was really scared…. “ I start to cry and she slips her arm over my shoulder, hugging me gently as she speaks softly “It’s ok, you’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here. Would you like a soda?” I nod and she sends the nurse away to get it. She pulls her arm off me and looks at my black eyes “You were hit, it seems, a few days ago. Have you been seen for this?” She asked. I shook my head and she started feeling my nose and cheeks. She asked me a few other questions as she looked me over, including if I’d told the police. I quickly said no, that I didn’t want to talk to them. She patted my hand and smiled “OK, no police as far as that is concerned but they are here to ask you some questions about something else, if it’s OK.” “will you stay with me?” I asked nervously. “Sure, if you like” I sighed as she called them in.
The police were curt and vicious in their questions. It seemed to me that they didn’t believe that I was having a breakdown. One officer came in about ten minutes into the questioning, face and hand bandaged. They told me that I’d bitten him to the point that I drew blood and it took four stitches to close. I’d scratched his face but, apparently, not too bad. The interview lasted a half hour then the doctor told them they had enough when they tried to get me to tell them I was faking amnesia to get out of being arrested. Bless her heart, she was great. An hour after they left my room, the wounded officer came back in, looking concerned. “Don’t worry about this, kid. I’ve had worse. You just get better, OK?” I nod and lay down on my side, curled in fetal position when he leaves.
The doctor comes in and talks to me some more than unlocks the cuff. She tells me I can get dressed and she’ll be right back with discharge papers and some meds she wants me to take. I get dressed and realize my top is torn so I tie it around my chest like I used to back home. She comes in and asks me if my parents have been notified and are coming to get me. I say yes and she gives me the papers, telling me how often to take the medicine. As she’s leaving, I have to ask “How old are you?” She grins and says “I feel a million sometimes” With a laugh, she opens the door and watches me walk toward the door. Dr. Z was the nicest doctor I’d ever met.
I walk outside and look around, realize I have no clue where I am, and hurry back inside. I ask the nearest nurse and she says “Queens” then, she runs off hurriedly “Queens…. Where the fuck is THAT?” I ask aloud to no one in particular. A guard standing nearby looks me over and asks where I need to go. I ask him how to get back to Manhattan and he says “Ya gotta take tha subways, dontcha know” I look at him with confusion then sigh before turning back toward the door “whatever THAT is…” He laughs and I walk back outside. Holding the key to my room in my hand, I look around and try to figure out what to do. What the hell was a subway anyway?