No Childhood

Delilah

I woke up dressed in a small nightgown, in a bed. My legs were sore and my head was aching. As I remembered events from yesterday, I tried to move, but the pain in my legs made it hard for me to do so. I stared at the wall, as tears began to roll down my cheeks. Why me? I thought. Why do I have take responsibility for my mother's actions? Suddenly, Andre burst into the room and walked over to the bed. I scooted to the far end of the bed, in attempt to get away from him.

"Get up," He ordered, pulling me off the bed. I fell to the floor, unable to keep my balance.

"I... can't," I mumbled. He grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Don't touch me," I demanded, pulling away from him. I slipped out of his grip and I stumbled the ground. He shook his head, as he grabbed my arm, and began to drag me. I tried to get to my feet, but it was helpless. I couldn't keep up. The journey down the stairs was excruciatingly painful. My legs slammed against every dusty, wooden step. Once we got into the cell corridor, I got concerned looks from other prisoners, as I was dragged past their cells.

After he pulled into the cell, he locked and left it. I slowly pulled myself onto the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress. I quietly cried into it, until I drifted off to sleep.

***

Andre pushed me against the wall, as his sweaty hands roamed my body. I couldn't manage to get him off of me. One of his hands were restraining mine and his body was pressing me up against the wall, so I couldn't move. Every time I was able to get a hand free, he imprisoned it in his grip again.

"Help!" I screamed, struggling in his grip. "Somebody, please." I screeched. No matter how much I screamed, no one seemed to hear me. Andre just laughed evilly at my pleading and continued his despicable task.

I was pulled out of my nightmare, by the squeaking of a rusty cell. My body was drenched in sweat and my heart was racing. By now, it was pretty dark outside, and in, so I couldn't see that well, but I heard a groan from someone hitting the floor in a cell. Living like this is terrible. There were no meals, painful torture, and cold nights. I couldn't believe Tre had been here for a month. I could barely take two days of this.

"Are you okay?" Tre asked, interrupting my thoughts. "Bad dream?" I ignored his questions and turned towards the wall. I groaned in pain, as I moved my sore legs. He must've got the message, because he stayed completely quiet for a while.

"Who did it?" He eventually asked, breaking the silence. Tears began rolling down my cheeks when I thought about it.

"Andre," I replied in a shaky, cracking voice. I sniffed quietly, letting tears roll down my face and onto the bed. Just saying his name made me want to regurgitate.

"I'm sorry," He said, sympathetically. "Did he use anything?" He asked seriously.

"I don't know, I was unconscious." I replied. "But don't want to think about it, or him anymore," I told him.

"I understand," He replied. Tre and I didn't talk to each other for the rest of the night. I wished for sleep, but I was scared that the nightmare would repeat itself. I stared at the ceiling most of the night, listening to the cries and snores around me.

When morning came, a man came and took Tre. Hours later he returned with bruises and a black eye. I felt bad, but I didn't say anything. I figured he wanted to rest. Eventually, I heard him snoring in that uncomfortable bed. I waited and waited, but no one came to get me. Part of  me was relieved, but the other part was scared.

"What's you name?" Tre suddenly asked, ripping me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed that he'd woken up. I looked at him, but didn't respond. "Did you hear me?" He asked.

"I don't want to tell my name to anyone who is in this gang," I replied harshly.

"I'm not in with the gang, and I never was," He argued.

"Your brother is part of it. You think he is just going to let them kill you?" I asked. Tre sighed.

"Honestly, I don't know," He admitted. "X and I aren't on the best terms and we haven't been for years." He explained. "Besides, what makes you think I want to join this gang, or any gang?" He asked a little annoyed.

"Because of your brother and you do or did drugs." I answered honestly.

"First, I'm nothing like these savages. I wouldn't be about to live with myself if I tortured people, and raped women. Second, I only got caught up in drugs, because I was dared by one of my 'friends' and I ended up getting addicted. I regret all of it," He said shamefully.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah," He said and sighed. "I didn't know it would end up going this far." We stayed silent for a few moments.

"Delilah," I suddenly said, breaking our silence.

"Huh?" He asked confused.

"My name," I responded.

"Oh,- like from the bible?" He asked.

"Yeah​," I answered, "I guess, but I don't think that was my mother's choice." I added.

"What makes you say that?" He asked. A lot of upsetting memories flowed though my mind.

"She isn't really the religious type," I replied, not wanting to say to much. My mother never went to church. She didn't pray anymore, unless she needed money to buy alcohol or drugs. Her faith was lost about five or six years ago, after my grandmother passed away. After her funeral, she began to act out and hang around new people. No one has been able to get through to her since.

"Night Delilah," He said. I mentally smiled. I thought it was actually nice to hear someone say my name, even though I've only been hear a few days. It made me feel a little comfortable, even in that forsaken environment.

"Night Tre." I said, yawning and closing my eyes.

"Oh and Delilah?" He said.

"Huh," I replied, with my eyes closed.

"Remember, always turn right." He  mumbled, tiredly. I didn't understand what he meant. I didn't even think I'd heard him correctly, but I shook it off and tried to sleep again. He probably didn't even know what he was saying.