Valor

Chapter 15

* TW : implications of child abuse/rape

Dame

The sound of the front door opening and closing makes me look up from the addition and subtraction practice sheets I'm working on. I know those voices–they're deep filled with a mix of humor and anger, which is confusing because nothing about them is funny.

Those men scare me, but Mama tells me to try my hardest to not let them know. The first time they came over I got so scared I wet my pants which they did not like. Now, I know that if I mess up I get hurt.

Mama and I live with two other women. They work for those men, or at least that's how Mama describes it. They come in at night which is when Mama works.

"Damian! Come out here!" I hear Mama yell from the living room. I don't want to go in there. I know that if I do bad things will happen, but if I don't other bad things will happen.

I put down my pencil and walk towards the living room in my pajamas. When I finally get there I see the men sitting around, drinking bottles of yellow and gold liquid and music playing with a low hum. Mama is on one of their laps, his hand resting between her legs.

As soon as I come in, they all look towards me, feral smiles on. They come almost every night, and every night I pray for it to end.

"Damian, you know the rules." Mama says while giggling and squirming on the man's lap.

I want to beg Mama to make them leave. I want to run back to the room we share and lock the door. I want her to see the tears that threaten to stain my cheeks, but none of that happens.

I have to listen.

I stutter out a low breath, trying to compose myself and keep the tears from spilling out of my blue eyes. With slow movements, I take off my pajama pants and t shirt, standing in the room of people in nothing but my underwear. My body is still riddled with bruises and burns from the previous nights.

The man I hate the most walks towards me like a predator. His steps are slow and deliberate as he watches me tense the closer he gets. I can't stop my body from shaking and the tears from falling now. It's too much for me, I don't want to do this.

When the man finally gets close enough he brings his large hand to cup my cheek and he uses his thumb to swipe the tears away, almost in a loving gesture.

There is anything but love in his body.

He must see my reaction because he smiles to himself, his eyes never leaving my own. With quick movements, He fists my long blonde locks and drags me back down the hall even as I kick and scream and beg him to stop.

The noise from the living room drowns out as we get further and further away. I want to cry for Mama, but I know she won't stop him. She never does.

He drags me into the room and tosses my tiny body on the bed, shoving my face into the mattress until my cries become muffled whimpers. I can hear the distinct sound of a belt buckle being undone, and in that moment I relax and leave my body, drifting off to dream of better things.

...

I never thought it was possibly to love someone until I met my brothers. It was probably the first time I ever felt cared for in my entire life.

There is nothing I won't do for them.

They all know how much I've been through, and it's them who knows how much my smiles and jokes are a way to feel the joy of the moment. I learned from very early on that there was a real possibility I wasn't going to survive the next day whether it be from my abusers or hunger.