don’t know how long I stood there, but I know it
had to have been the middle of the night because
my body did not want to be awake. As a kid, I
always wanted to be awake when morning came.
Just as I was about to fall over asleep, I was
knocked to the floor by a heavy hand to the side
of my head. I knew better than to fall asleep, but
my body couldn’t help it. I had not heard the
door open. I had not heard Bobby enter the
191
room. I knew better than to fall asleep when he
had told me to get up.
I planted my hands on the ground and tried to
raise myself up to present myself again. I tried to
wake myself in my head. It had been only seconds
but it felt like hours in those few moments my
worn out body was allowed to rest on the floor.
My head was ringing, and my knees were weak. I
had just propped up on my hands and knees
when a forceful kick hammered into my chest.
My five-year-old body sailed easily to the back of
the room. For a few more seconds, I rested an
eternity. I could hear Bobby yelling at me but he
had knocked the wind out of me so I couldn’t pay
full attention to his words. In the now spinning
room I heard his growl through the blinding light.
“Wha’da fuck you think yer doin? You think you
funny bitch? Wha da fuck game ya think we’re
playin motherfucker? Get that suit off and get yer
ass in the shower NOW!” He raised his right arm
and pointed to the adjacent bathroom.
192
Frantically rushing to get out of the suit, I
crouched, trembling and realizing I hadn’t taken
off my shoes, and that they were too large to pull
the pants over. I wasn’t moving fast enough, and
I knew it. Rushing forward in one giant step,
Bobby reminded me with a punch to the top of
my head. “Hurry the fuck up, I aint got all night!”
and I sprawled out on the floor from the impact.
Matthew was still asleep or pretending to be to
keep himself out of harm’s way.
With a single tremendous yank on my elastic
waistband, Bobby had not only pulled me off of
the ground, he had also pulled my underwear off
by tearing them under my weight. Standing in my
socks was good enough for him, and he pul ed me
out of the room, I slid into the bathroom along
the cold linoleum.
Two rough, calloused hands lifted me abruptly
from the floor and planted me into the half-filled
tub. I lost my breath the instant my socked feet
hit the freezing cold water. Silently, I fought to
193
catch my breath, though I knew even then that
death would not come so easily. Standing there
shivering and breathless in the icy water, I didn’t
realize that Bobby had left the room. Before I
knew what was happening, I heard my mother
screaming from inside the room.
Fully awakened by the cold water, I opened my
eyes and saw my naked mother slammed onto the
toilet just inside the bathroom door. She had
come in dragged by her hair, which was wrapped
tightly in one of Bobby’s giant fists, the other fist
firmly wielding a large wooden hairbrush popular
in the 1970’s. He slapped the backside of the
brush against her forehead and began yelling.
“Bitch, you betta shut yo fuckin mouth. I’m not
letting this filthy motherfucker in my bed without
a bath. You gonna sit here an when we’re done
you goin to bed too.” With that he gave her one
more smack with the brush before leaving the
room. With blood streaming from her head, my
shuddering mother rushed to me and wrapped
194
her arms around me. Her trembling arms made
me tremble even more. I wanted her to get away
from me before we were caught.
Luckily, whatever Bobby was doing outside that
door was making a lot of noise, and we both
heard him coming our way. She let go and
through chattering teeth said, ”I love you. I wish I
could help you.” I pushed her away as soon as I
felt her grip loosen. She sat down on the toilet
and mouthed, “I love you” over and over while
trying to fight back her tears.
Suddenly the kitchen trashcan appeared in the
doorway. Having seen all that I had seen in my
five years on earth, I shouldn’t have been
surprised, but I was. The dirty trashcan in the
little bathroom quickly turned the electrically
charged air rancid. As soon as I noticed the
bulging bottom of the plastic can, the room went
dark, and ice rained down over my body. It stung
and burned my already cold skin. The trashcan
195
covered my body and held buoyant on the water,
as I sat crying in the now ice-filled tub.
“Get up motherfucker. I didn’t tell you to
si’down.” The can was lifted from the tub. The
glaring light made me wince. Bobby’s warm, dry
hand gripped my neck and yanked me to a
standing position. His hand smelled of tobacco,
sulfur, and trash. I could only concentrate on the
cold, still freezing my body. The water in the tub
was turning red from the blood that dripped from
my baby fat skin, ripped open by ice. I tried to
fold my arms to warm up, but my arms were stiff
when I tried to bend them, and my hands seemed
to burn my arm when I touched them. I noticed
my chubby arms were turning purple when my
mother grabbed me. Pain shot through me like a
shock, and I screamed in her face. My limbs were
becoming frost nipped; I couldn’t hold back from
the pain. She slapped me hard across the face and
began to cry even harder than she already had
been. I stared at her confused, and suddenly
196
alone. Now she and Bobby were attacking me,
and I had nowhere to hide, as I stood naked
except for my socks in a bathtub full of blood-
stained ice water.
I heard the click of a lighter from the kitchen. A
cough and a loud fist on the counter followed.
Living with Bobby had sharpened my senses. I
had to be aware of everything he was doing at all
times when he was in the house. Not only was I
supposed to predict when he would need me, so I
could be standing in front of him at any moment,
but knowing where he was and what he was
doing was good for my health and safety. So I
listened for him at all times, especially times like
this. He was getting high in the kitchen, but I
didn’t know what it was he was smoking to
determine what mood he would be in.
I heard the kitchen faucet running now, and he
was fumbling around in a manic rage. I knew
then that I was in trouble. Drawers and doors
were slamming every few seconds, and the water
197
I was standing in was only getting colder, as I lost
more and more blood. Debbie was lost in her
own pain, as she looked at me from the toilet seat.
Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her heels
balanced her on the toilet. She was as naked and
frozen with fear and pain as I was. Her hair was
wet and matted against her face in the front, but
the back stood up in a large hump from having
been pulled repeatedly by Bobby before I was
woken up.
Bobby liked to hurt Debbie, and hurting me was
his favorite way of hurting her. That’s all there
was to it. Since the day she had met him Bobby
had owned my mother. Somehow on this night
my mother had made Bobby mad, and now I was
paying the price.
Bobby appeared in the doorway, just as he had
before. The trashcan was in his arms but this time
I knew what to expect. Immediately Debbie
began screaming and pulling on Bobby’s arm
with all of her strength. She was not very strong
198
to begin with. For years Debbie had been
addicted to drugs, heroin being her drug of
choice. She said she cut back when she was three
months pregnant with me. Once I was out of her
body, she was hooked again. During the six years
I lived with her - and for years afterward - my
mother Debbie was a hardcore junkie. Perched
on the toilet with glassy red eyes, she began to
beg. Bobby liked it when she begged. He made
her beg for everything.
“Please not again, please hit me,” she screeched
in vain.
Without a word Bobby raised his arms, which
were again wrapped around the trashcan. Debbie
lost her grip. With a flip of his enormous wrists
the trashcan rained down ice and water on me.
Gasping for breath, my mouth filled with trashy
iced water, I began to choke. The water and ice
combination drenched my nearly frozen body
and burned like fire pouring over me. The water
dulled the ice, but it pelted the already open cuts
199
and stung like needles through the fire. Engulfed
in pain and suffocating, I fell to my knees into the
ice water. Bobby seized the moment as if it had
been choreographed. Without turning around he
threw the trashcan behind him and out the door.
It hit the hallway wall and was then reflected
toward the kitchen. Cowering on the toilet
Debbie tucked her knees closer to her face and
wrapped her arms around them as a shield
against the airborne trashcan.
I was still in the middle of a cough to clear my
throat when Bobby’s enormous hand covered the
back of my head. My face slammed into the ice
water forcing more water into my throat. Panic
was immediate, and my frozen limbs began to
flail. Bobby pulled me out of the water and
planted a piercing elbow into my back. The force
of the elbow blow had me nearly bent in half
backward in the tub. He put his face against
mine. His breath was disgusting, metallic and hot.
200
“Boy, you aint gonna die so quick ya son of a
bitch. I got plans for you tonight. Ain’dat right
bitch?” Bobby said as he turned around to face
my mother.
Debbie whimpered but did not move.
With my soaking wet hair in his left hand, he
reached up to the sink and grabbed the brush
again with his right. The brush cracked against
the top of Debbie’s head over and over. “Answer
me bitch!”
Crack!
“We gonna have some fun”
Crack!
“Aint we?”
Crack!
He shoved the words from his mouth, as he
pounded the brush against my mother’s head.
He was nearly breathless now from all of the
activity. I could hear his heart hammering as he
leaned in close to me. He must have been
burning speed in the kitchen. His ashy brown skin
201
was aglow with sweat and excitement. Again he
forced me under the water.
My face and shoulders were smashed against the
bottom of the tub. My feet flew into the air.
Anchored like a tripod beneath the water, I
grabbed for Bobby’s wrist with both hands.
Frantic and cold, I hyperventilated and swallowed
more water. My hands and feet flew in all
directions, trying to escape from the weight on
the back of my head. Lifeless, my legs collapsed
into the water. I had no more fight left in me, and
I went limp. For a few seconds, I felt no pain but
instead felt comfort and calm.
The icy water settled Bobby’s mania. He pulled
my head from the water and held my face to his.
He wasn’t sweating any more, and he looked
relaxed and sinister.
Smiling he said, “Dry y’ass off, now!”
He draped me over the side of the tub with a
force that evacuated blood and water from my
mouth to the floor.
202
I didn’t watch as Bobby dragged my mother from
the bathroom. I was told to dry off, and that’s
what I did. Though I knew something else was
about to happen, it felt good to be alone and dry.
Even if the towel felt like sandpaper on my body,
it was much warmer out of the tub than in it. The
towel was navigated gently around each of the
cuts I could see. Tending to my own wounds had
become common practice, and I was gentle with
myself. Upon inspection, my skin was ripped,
purple, and more fragile than usual. I felt no pity
for my situation, but as I stood there I wished for
death. Every night and every day, I hoped that
that day would bring my death. I knew that death
would be the only escape from the torture and
pain.
My dissociation to the grave was hastily
terminated by Bobby’s hulking frame entering the
bathroom. Reaching out with a massive hand
aimed at my throat, Bobby was the most
terrifying thing I had ever seen. At that moment,
203
I was seeing him for the first time. At that
moment, I was looking at a new man, a more
vicious and volatile creature than the one I had
lived with for the last several years.
Excitedly he said, “Le’s go mufucka. I got
somethin for you.”
Wrenching me off the floor, Bobby flung my
body around effortlessly. My head smacked the
doorframe, as he heaved me into the hall. My