bedroom door was closed, and there was no light
coming from underneath. Behind that door
Matthew was sound asleep or pretending to be.
The sheets were torn off of their bed at each
corner and bunched up beneath my mother who
was curled up on her side in the center of it all.
Freeing my neck from his hand, Bobby heaved
me onto the bed. Debbie scuttled the few inches
to me and huddled her body on top of mine for
protection. Something hit her on the back, and
the force reverberated through my body.
“Get off that mufucka,” he warned.
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His massive chest heaved as he took a deep
breath and continued, “Aint no use, bitch. You
got it comin.”
The brush appeared in the big man’s hand, and
he hammered it across her head. She let loose her
embrace to shield her head from subsequent
blows. Bobby grabbed my shins and tore me from
my mother’s cover. Heaped onto the floor at the
foot of the bed, I stared up at Bobby. He pulled
my mother’s legs taut. Her feet appeared in my
face. They looked strikingly pink against his hard
brown skin. His hands wrapped easily around her
ankles; his forearms bulged from the effort of
dragging her into position. When her knees and
back were flat against the bed, he crawled on top
of her in a position I had seen many times.
I thought I would be watching them have sex
again. He called it “havin his old lady.” Instead of
mounting her, he crawled over her. His crotch
was on her face. This too I had seen many times,
but this time his clothes were on, and he was
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reaching for the nightstand next to the bed. He
opened the drawer with his right hand and
fumbled around in the drawer. Pulling out several
items, some he placed on the bed, others he
tossed aside onto the carpet. His left hand was
sorting through the items he had placed on the
bed. Over his arched back, I watched him stuff
something under a pillow that had been crammed
between the bare wall and the mattress.
Bobby rolled off of the bed. Undoing his belt he
walked to the door and flipped the switch on the
light. He moved the few steps back to the bed and
turned on the light that stood on the nightstand.
Long ago a red scarf had been thrown over the
top of the lamp, so the room was instantly bathed
in red light. I was still lumped on the floor while
Bobby manipulated my mother’s prostrate limbs.
This was all too familiar, and now I knew I would
be watching Bobby “have his old lady.”
“Put’yer face in it!” demanded the beast I had
met in the bathroom.
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He pointed to my mother’s pubic hair. I knew
more about sex then than I should have. Bobby
had made me watch him rape my mother many
times. I knew that I did not want to put my face
down there.
“Motherfucker” he snarled.
Then his teeth clenched tightly, “I said put yo
face in it and I mean put yo gotdamn face in‘at
shit NOW!” The words narrowly escaped his
mouth.
Debbie started to raise herself off of the bed in
objection. Bobby reached behind his back and
whipped his right hand over his head and came
down on Debbie’s head with such force that it
sounded like two rocks colliding. From his
clenched fist, his gun appeared. It was small and
black with a brown handle. It was a gun I had
seen often. Bobby liked to wield it when we broke
into houses. He wore it in his sock when we went
around the corner. He almost never left the house
without it.
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He put the gun in his left hand and cleared the
bloody hair from my mother’s face with his right.
The hair was caked and matted from the dried
blood and random hairs still clung to her face as if
they too wanted to escape Bobby’s grasp. The
long red hairs looked like scars across Debbie’s
stark white face. Bobby tightened his grip on the
hair still in his hand.
“Tell that little mufucka to do it or I’m aunna
fuckin do it and you don’ want me da fuckin do
it.”
I could hardly make out what she was saying
through the tears, and then she stammered out,
“B,b,b,baby, do as your daddy tells you.” She
sucked in her snot and tears with a loud snort and
continued, “Please do as your daddy tells you.”
He wasn’t my daddy, but he liked to be called
that, especially when he was beating me. Also, I
wasn’t defying him or attempting to not do as I
was told. I was in shock, and I was frozen in
place. I didn’t want to know what was going to
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happen. I did not want to put my face near my
mother. My body, scorched from the ice bath,
could not move from the floor.
Through his clenched teeth came the staggered
instruction, “Open yo fuckin mouf. Do it. Open
yo fuckin mouf, now!”
My lips parted, and the grimy gun barrel
slammed into my mouth. The steel crashed
against my teeth as my tongue pressed into the
opening of the barrel. Bobby’s finger was on the
trigger as he cocked the hammer down.
“Suck it mufucka, suck that shit down.” His spit
stung my face as he barked the order.
Turning to Debbie - writhing on the bed - he
sneered, “You like that, bitch? You better tell this
sonuvabitch to do as he’s told or he aint gonn’ be
alive no more.” He pounded his fist into her face
and she was instantly still.
Lying prone on the bed, she shrieked, “Please
baby, do it, just do as your told. Please baby.
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Pleeease!” Her last word came out as she choked
again on her tears.
She pled as if I had a choice. I had been beaten
raw in the deepest part of the night. I was
exhausted and weak. Disobedience was not my
goal. I sucked the gun barrel, as if it were candy I
was seldom afforded.
“You look just like your whore mother, you
faggot. You suck it so good maybe you should be
suckin my dick and teach her somethin.”
He turned his glaring eyes to Debbie, “What you
think about that bitch? You want our boy to show
you how to suck a man’s dick?”
It was more a threat than a question.
He turned back and watched me intently and I
could see his forearms sweating again as he slowly
slid the gun back and forth over my lips.
As I noticed his erection, he quickly pulled the
gun out of my mouth and set the weapon on the
dresser that stood behind me. He bent over the
slightest bit, putting his head near the top of the
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dresser. Placing a length of a straw in his nose, he
snorted something from the mirror that I knew
was up there. His head roared back while the
straw was dropped back to the mirror. He
squeezed his nose closed with one hand and spit
on the carpet. I wiped the saliva from my mouth,
trying to get rid of the powdery taste of the gun.
Then the gun was waving between my face and
my mother’s crotch while he said again, “Put’yer
face in it.”
I pushed myself to my feet and flopped my head
on my mother’s soft belly. My face stuck to her
sweating torso immediately. My skin screamed as
Bobby’s powerful hand peeled me from her
warmth and he jerked me into position. Thrown
between Debbie’s legs, my arms bent beneath my
bony chest as my shoulders were pinned against
her thighs. My nose burned as I stared between
my mother’s legs.
Bobby gripped the back of my head and hissed,
“Lick it boy.”
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She stunk of filth, sweat and urine. I obeyed.
“Yeah, mufucka. That’s my boy,” he gloated.
As he waved the gun back and forth, I trained my
stare on Bobby as I obeyed. My body was
comfortable and warm. Looking at Debbie he
stammered out,
“
Sprea’dat shit
bitch.
Let the boy
in
.” His voice was cool and he was high.
The tone of his voice told me that this was only
the beginning. Bobby’s rage was wild and
unpredictable, but once it began subtle cues
clearly delineated a cycle. He was only now
catching his stride. It was going to be a long
night.
Debbie’s fingernails gouged my flesh as her hands
appeared in my face. She was still scratching my
face when she pushed my head backward and out
of her way. Her knuckles were clammy against
my cheek. Smoothing back the pubic hair shot a
putrid odor directly into my nose. She splayed her
fingers and pressed her palms to the inside of her
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thighs. Bobby’s voice broke in, exacerbating my
horror.
“Yeah girl. You know how da do it,” he said,
smooth talking his old lady.
His head dipped forward to punctuate the words
that slurred toward me excitedly, “Now get on
‘nat shit
boy. Lick
that
shit. ‘At’s good shit.”
He stepped quickly behind me, snorted the
powder from the dresser, and stepped back beside
me with the gun pressed against the back of my
head. It was no longer cocked, but his finger
remained perched on the hammer.
“Lick it boy. Lick that pussy. She like to have her
pussy out and damn sure I aint eatin’at shit. You
gonn’ b’eating
dat shit
all night,
“ he said while licking white powder from the tips of his fingers,
“till I tell you ta stop. And when you done, you
gonn’ keep goin’. Ya hear me boy?” His ghastly
voice forced the question through clenched teeth.
I cowered in response.
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I didn’t dare say anything. He didn’t ever want to
hear my voice. Years before, Bobby had taught
me the rules to taking a beating and he corrected
my mistakes with more beatings. The rules to
taking a beating: stand up, stand still, hands to the
sides, never say a word unless told to speak,
crying makes it worse.
Debbie cried and squirmed as my mouth
awkwardly maneuvered around her most intimate
region. The smell wasn’t as bad anymore but my
nose continued to burn as I followed Bobby’s
instructions. Bobby had no patience. He liked to
give orders, and they were to be followed exactly
as he wanted, the first time. It was best not to
hesitate, and questioning was never an option.
While I chose to concentrate on Debbie’s crying
to occupy my mind, it had seemed to escape
Bobby’s attention until now. Feeling the release of
pressure on the back of my head, I looked up to
see Bobby flip the gun on his finger and smash
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the butt of the gun into my mother’s forehead
and begin to yell.
“Bitch you
know
you like it. You don’t stop crying
I’m gonn’ make
this
little mufucka cry.” He
pushed the gun from her face to mine and back
again. “Which it gonn’ be bitch?” he asked,
holding the butt of the gun inches from her face.
She sucked her lips trying to hold in her cries.
Satisfied by her stifled whimper, Bobby turned his
eyes to me. To avoid a thunderous blast from the
butt of the gun, I stuck my tongue out and
continued as before.
“Oh yeah boy, you likin’at shit aint ya?” he
roared on the verge of laughter.
“Bitch, this boy gonn’ be after that shit all the
time now baby. We gonn’ have a lot of fun wit’
dis mufucka now.” He sneered, waving his head
with a wicked grin.
”I aint gonn’ be able t’do
my
business with this
little fucker eatin all his momma all day.” Bobby
was enthusiastic and impressing himself when my
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mother let out a sharp, piercing scream. I thought
my mother had just died with my head trapped
between her legs. Her chest convulsed and she
began to breath heavily after Bobby suddenly fell
another blow with the butt of the gun to her
forehead. She was still alive.
“Shut yo mouf bitch.” He warned as his head
cocked to the side.
Suddenly the taste changed. I pulled away. Bobby
noticed my reaction, and smiled.
“Get up” he said while abruptly hoisting me onto
my feet.
“Bitch look at‘is boy’s dick,” he ordered while
pointing the gun at my five-year old penis.
”How the hell he gonna be fuckin you if you aint
got no dick hard. What tha fuck’s yo problem?
That boy done gone and made you cum and you
can’t even get him hard? Bitch you a sorry piece’a
ass.” He bent down slowly and wrapped a giant
fist in her matted hair, pulling her upper body off
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of the bed. He swung the gun to her face and
then at me.
“Suck his dick,” he casually commanded.
“Suck ‘at little dick,” he repeated as he began to
sweat.
“You better get that little mufucka hard and if
you stop before it’s hard…” He wasn’t done
when Debbie suddenly came to life and clawed at
Bobby’s face throwing her legs in the air trying to
get away from his grasp.
“Nooohohohoh!” Her chest heaved as she pushed