Catfish: The Untold Story.

Blake

Blake

Blake laid there in bed long after Jaye had fallen asleep, he was wide awake, his thoughts lingering on the past. His mother coming back into his life both shook and raddled him to the core. 'She must want something.' He thought rubbing his head. Every time he closed his eyes he would be taken back to a place he no longer wanted to visit. It was nearly five in the morning before he finally fell asleep as he listened to Jaye's soft breathing to drown out the thoughts.

"Blake baby...Blake!"

Jaye's voice cut into his mind snapping his eyes wide open. He looked around the room before realizing he was at home in his own bed safe and sound. "What is it baby?"

"Baby you were talking in your sleep, are you okay?"

Blake could hear the concern in her voice, he had freaked her out with whatever he had said. "I'm okay baby, I'm sorry to have woke you up."

"I was already awake baby, just listening to you breathing and then you started talking."

"I'm sorry baby."

"It's okay." She said moving her arms around him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Blake stiffened a little before snuggling into her. "It's just everything coming back from my past, thanks to my mother coming back around with the phone call yesterday."

Jaye kept quiet allowing him to continue if he wanted.

Blake sighed, "How much do you really want to know babe?"

She was quiet for a moment as she played with his hair, "However much you want to tell me baby."

"You know a little bit of it. The basics of what my parent did to me as a child."

She nodded, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"The first time is what really fucked me up. It's the time I remember most. I was up in my room playing with my cars on my bed. My parents were downstairs they had been arguing about money and bills and drugs and pills. Anyway, my dad called me downstairs and of course I went. Those days it didn't take much to set him off and I knew that. When I got down there my mother was sitting in the kitchen smoking a cigarette. She wouldn't even look my way. A man was standing by the door, my father roughly said that I was going to take a ride with his friend. That I was to be a good boy and listen to everything he said. I said I would be a good boy."

"I watched as the houses passed by, we turned down some roads that I had seen before, nothing new it was the same filthy neighborhood I spent my childhood in. The man wasn't dirty but he sure as fuck wasn't clean either. Dirt caked under his fingernails, he smelled of alcohol and bad body odor. Every time he would look my way he would smile at me and pat my leg. I would move it away but his hand kept landing there every time."

"We finally made it to his house, it was almost as big as mine. Two story, windows broken so boards were placed in places to keep the outside out. Walking in the house smelled of something I didn't know what it was but it made my nose wrinkle. There was trash everywhere, beer cans and bottles scattered on the floor, the kitchen was filled with dishes that had food caked on them. I remember looking around and instantly wishing I could go home. Nothing felt right and I knew I promised to be a good boy but I couldn't help it, tears started to well up in my eyes. The man walked over and sat on the dirty old couch, he patted the seat next to him, "Come here boy." He said, and I listened. He scooted closer to me, his hand resting on my knee again. He lit a funny smelling smoke. He blew it in my face. "Breathe it in." He said to me. So I did. It gave me a head rush I wasn't expecting. I didn't like it."

"Blake do you want to play a game?"

"I guess?"

His hand moved higher up my leg, I looked down at it and jumped off the couch.

"Blake do you want me to tell your daddy that you weren't a good boy?"

I stood away from him for a moment before I moved back towards him. He held out his hand and I followed him into the bedroom. When it was over I remember him tossing my clothes back to me, told me to hurry up and get dressed he had to get me back home. That he would be seeing me again real soon. I couldn't sit still in the car ride, I ran as fast as I could into the house and up to my room. I ran straight to my closet and hid in there for the rest of the night. I ended up falling asleep curled up in a ball. My mother came up the next day and got me, she gave me a bath and washed the blood off of me."

For the next few years I would get in the same shitty car and drive to the same shit house and do the same shit with the same man. Every time my father needed a fix I was his payment. Finally after a month, the man stopped coming around, my dad was pretty pissed off because he had been arrested I guess. My parents needed to find a new dealer. And they did. This time the guy that picked me up was older, but he smelled better, drove a way nicer car too.

"The whole car ride I watched out the window as the houses went by. We passed all the abandoned stores and houses that me and younger Jordan would play around when we met up to get away. The prostitutes under the highways were a distant memory. We pulled into a gated neighborhood, the houses were all huge. Bigger than anything I had ever seen. The grass was green and cut down to the perfect inch. The house we pulled up to was two of my houses put together. The drive way was marble with no oil stains. Big pillars in front of the house welcoming you into the door, for a kid who grew up poorer than dirt, I was in awe."

"I figured what was coming but I was wrong. The man's name was Doc. He told me to come on in and make myself at home. He asked if I needed anything and I shook my head no waiting for the hurt to come. But it never did. Instead he took me outback and showed me something, instead of hurting me he decided to train me. Train me to be a fighter, a damn good gun handler. By the time I was 8 years old I could hit a target that was over 400 feet away with an automatic rifle. I had told Doc about my friend Jordan and how he lived like me and Doc ended up getting him to join in on the fun. I loved going over there to shoot and play fight. Doc was like a father that I should have had. He told me that whenever I needed anything I could always count on him. Jordan too."

Blake stopped talking for a moment, Jaye moved her arms tighter around him not wanting him to see her tears that had formed in her eyes. Here was the man she loved telling her that he was abused as a child. His voice had started to turn cold, his eyes drifted off to the past. She knew she had to bring him back. To make reassure him that he was with her and safe. So she held him, she had no words that came to her mind, none that would help the situation. Nothing that could help him feel better about the past.

Blake snapped out of his train of thought and hugged Jaye tighter against him. "I got you Babyboy." She whispered into his ear.

He nodded knowing she was still processing everything he had just told her. He never wanted to tell anyone that, in fact the only person that knew about it was Jordan because not long after they found out the first man had been released and was now back on the streets, the two boys at 9 years old snuck into the man's house. They pour enough of the liquor on the floor and all over the man's body that when the match was lit, Blake looked into his eyes and asked, "Wanna play a game?" The man sat up yelling, "Nooooooo." But it was too late, Blake tossed the match down. The man burst into flames immediately. The boys ran from the room locking him inside, the rest of the house was catching on fire around them. They ran from the house running across the street into the neighboring abandon drug house. They moved up the stairs and looked out the second story window where they had a rifle ready just in case the man decided to run outside. He never made it out of the house. The boys left when they heard the sirens blaring from the approaching fire department. No one was in a hurry to put out the flames. The neighborhood was shot, many of the houses were already abandoned and falling down, others were used as drug houses for people to get high in or a dry night's sleep for the homeless.