21 Boys Will Be

B****** Wrecked Me

I can't exactly remember when it started. All I knew is that you were bigger. Bigger than me. Older than me. There was something about you that always put me in a bad mood. Even when we were really young, I couldn't stand you. Hell, we were eight when this started and I still couldn't place what was so off-putting about you. I still remember. Breath for breath.

I remember how it happened the first time. It seemed innocent enough. You felt along my body. Downstairs while the rest of them were talking upstairs. We used to play down here with your big sister. She was older now, and our imaginary games didn't seem grown enough for her anymore. I missed her. But, you wanted to play downstairs with me. And I didn't have much else to do. But I never knew this is what you planned.

I can't even remember what started it all. But before I could think, you kissed me. And then you grabbed me. And I remember wanting to scream. But nothing escaped. This felt wrong. All wrong. I told you this. How I felt. And you brushed me off

"If you tell, they won't believe. I'll say it was you. Then you'll get in trouble. You're always in trouble."

Harsh words from a once great friend broke my fragile self-image. You weren't much older than me. But you had an idea that didn't know about. That was the first time.

The next time started the same way, but it got more intense. This time you found your way inside my pants. I pushed you away, I started to cry.

"Stop being a baby. This doesn't even hurt. Don't make me tell."

I quieted and allowed him to continue. How sick that sounds now. I allowed him. But I did. I didn't protest. When he had his fun, he grab my hand and took it into his. He guided my hand along until I reached his zipper. I started pulling back, and he grabbed me harder. Then, the sound of my saving grace. Three foot steps, and he had let me go and we returned to the cards. It was my mom. Time to go home. For once, I was happy to see her.

Next time was Christmas. I was 10. Things like this always happened in the basement. We were playing pool and you teasingly ran the cue along my pant line. I hated the feeling that rose in my stomach. I didn't know what you wanted. You unzipped your pants and pulled out your penis. It was bigger than before. More frightening. Because I'd been doing some looking, and I knew what you had been planning.

And I wanted to cry. Then and there I wanted to scream. You approached me until I was pinned against the wall. You grabbed my hand and instructed me to stroke it. I wanted to tear it off. But all I could hear was,

"Don't make me tell. You'll get in trouble."

Soon enough he pushed me down onto my knees. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but he kept pushing it against my face. I finally broke. The first thing I thought was to bite it off, the next thought stopped my action,

"He'll tell. And you'll get in trouble."

So I continued, until I couldn't breathe. Until he let me stop.

It was summertime, and I had to stay at your house overnight. I was 12. I threw a fit, but that just made my mom mad at me. She left me there. I stayed upstairs for as long as I could. Then your sister invited me downstairs to her room. We sat and talked in there for awhile, and I relaxed. Soon enough I found out that your sister was staying at a friends house.

I was to sleep in her bed that night. Right next to your room. That evening, with my siblings asleep in the downstairs living room floor, you snuck into her room. You woke me up, and I felt my gut twist and turn. You led me to my room. I tried to protest, but you continued to quiet me.

Once we were in your room, you turned on a flashlight and we sat on your bed. You showed me nude magazines that you caught your dad tossing out. You pointed to her breast and then grabbed mine. Barely existent. You lifted my shirt and sucked on my nipples before complaining,

"Your nipples are too big. And your tits aren't big enough"

You roll me over and threw my pants below my knees. You grabbed my ass and slapped it before shoving another picture in my face,

"And your ass isn't nice and firm like hers"

He rolled me over again. Going over every ounce of my body and ruining what self confidence I had left. He grabbed the small amount of belly I had and sneered,

"This should be tight and like hers" shoving another girl into my face.

He then walked his fingers down to my pubic hair and pulled one out.

"There shouldn't be any hair here. You're disgusting"

He went further down and rubbed. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. He threw a magazine with a woman of bigger breasts near me. He placed it over my face. He paused before moving it just below my eyes.

"I can't get over how sexy your eyes are"

He rubbed and inserted his fingers with one hand while jacking off with the other. I was in so much pain. I started to cry, but I tried not to let him see. He got off soon enough. And thankfully, he took me back to his sister's room after that. Once he left, I waited until I was sure he was sleeping. Then I cried. And when I thought I was getting too loud, I crawled out the downstairs window and into the backyard.

I can't remember how long I sat there and cried. I had this shake that I couldn't get rid of. I sat until the grass soaked clear though my pants. Until I didn't think I could cry anymore. From there, I crawled back into the window and met sleep with heavy head.

It wasn't until the next Christmas that all my fears were realized. Once again, we were in the basement. But this time, we were alone on purpose. Your sister was upstairs with the "adults" and you and I were downstairs sharing the hide-a-bed. It was barely 9:00 and I begged to sleep up stairs. Or go to sleep later. My mom refused.

This time, it all happened so fast. No longer than it took for my mom to go all the way up the stairs, did it take you to grab my waistband and drop it to my knees. I tried to roll onto my stomach, hoping it would deter you. But it didn't. Instead, you lifted my hips. And you broke me. Completely. And I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just took it. But it wasn't the same as before. The fear was gone. It was just numb.

Like it wasn't happening to me. It was just, happening. Like watching a movie. A scary movie. I could feel my heart racing and myself becoming unbearably sore, but it was like I was trying to convince myself it wasn't happening. I was so assured by the idea that it was happening, but it wasn't happening to me.

I was so numb to it all, that by the time I realized what had happened, he was next to me, asleep. It's as if I blocked it all out. I sat up, and my back ached. My head, among other things, throbbed.

That's the night I met Sadie.

"Hey kid. You okay?" I heard a voice whisper. I looked around, but no one was in the room. I was scared, but exhausted. I walked over to the reclining chair, threw a blanket over myself, and fell asleep.

In my sleep, I had a dream. One that I would soon realize wasn't much of a dream at all. You see, I had an imaginary friend named Charlie. And I talked to her all the time. And another named Janie, and I played with her in my dreams, and a lot when I was very young. But this time, I was in a room and one more person sat down to play. She introduced herself as Sadie. She didn't say much, but she seemed content with where she was. When the dream began to fade, she looked up at me and said,

"Glad you're okay, kid."

And with her smile, I woke up.

Eventually, I did tell someone. And telling someone led to telling my mom. And then my dad. But the worst part was, they didn't believe me. Not in the slightest. But, to cover themselves, he and I are no longer allowed in a room alone together. Ever. Even worse they tried to flip it on me and say that if anything did happen, it was my fault. Because I could have screamed. I could have fought. And I tried to explain why I couldn't and all my mom said was,

"Well that's a shitty excuse."

And that's the last time we ever talked about it. But I remember it. And it comes for me in my dreams sometimes. But when it does, Sadie is always right there. In control. And I'm there too. But it's numb. Like it's not happening to me. Just like before. And I'm thankful for that. 

1 Boy Will Be