I was 5 years old when the abuse started. It was my second pair of foster parents since I got put in the system after my parents died. Apparently, none of my relatives thought I was worth the hassle of adopting or even being put into their lives, so after taking care of me for a few years, I was back in the system. I remember being the only black child in a house full of white kids in Alabama. I never knew I was different until then. The kids would call me all kinds of names like "Blackie" and "Charcoal" because of my skin. One kid thought my hair was fake because it was so long, so he took some gum and smeared it on the back of my head. The woman of the house, Bessie, thought she should put her cigarettes out on my skin because she "wanted to see if they showed up on nigger skin." The man of the house, Ronnie, was an alcoholic and druggie, a deadly combination to be in the presence of someone, who had a disgusting habit on preying on the young.
I found that little secret out one day when I came home early from school and saw him laying naked on the couch with the next door neighbor's 16 year old son who was snorting coke. When he got caught by me, he gave me the beating of a lifetime and I ended up in the hospital for 2 months with fractured ribs, internal bleeding, and a broken arm from "falling down the stairs." Funny how two little steps in the our house could cause all that damage right and no one even bat an eye. You would think they police of the town would look into something like that, but who would ever think the heroic sheriff of the town would do something like that to his foster child?
Even after landing in the hospital 12 more times, I had to live in that personal hell hole for almost 5 years until Bessie tested positive for HIV and they got a divorce. Ronnie would have the staff erase the evidence of me ever being there unless it was a routine checkup, which even then they fabricated. They only cared about taking care of me when it came to appearing at social gathering for re-elections, but after a while it got harder and harder to cover the burns and bruises. Then Bessie hired a makeup artist to cover up my "clumsiness," so I could wear the dresses they bought to convince the town they were amazing parents to this poor Black child abandoned by her birth parents, at least that's the story they told everyone.
After that, I got adopted by my beautiful mother. But one person I missed from that purgatory was Elliot. He made it all worth it. He was four years older and my absolute best friend, still another foster kid in hell there for about 2 years. When that mean kid put gum in my hair, he put peanut butter in my hair and got it out with me only losing a few strands. Every time I got punished or burnt, Elliot would be there waiting with bandages and hugs for me. He would sacrifice himself a lot to try to get me out of Bessie and Ronnie's wrath and end up with black eyes. Then it would be my turn to fix him up. Ronnie would try to do weird things to him at night when he thought everyone was sleeping, so I let him sleep in my room with me with the door locked and we would play our Light game. You flashed the flash light in our secret language to make sure no one could know what we talked about. The most important ones were easy to remember because it helped us when trouble was about to happen. One flash meant they were outside our door, so we couldn't talk for a while, two flashes meant one of us were hurt, and three flashes meant I'll be waiting for you in the attic. The attic was our safe haven because Ronnie was too fat to climb up the ladder and Bessie never moved a muscle because it would mess with her Botox.
When our batteries ran out, it became the Knock game. When I was 10, some of Elliot's distant family came and adopted him. We were on the steps of the house with his luggage waiting for his aunt and uncle to arrive. Tears were streaming down my face as I hugged him tight to me. He stroked my coils and rubbed my back. His soft smile and dimple poked out at me as if to say "everything's okay" when I knew in my heart I would never see him again. The last words Elliot said to me would be my only will for survival in that household. "It's alright, Liyah. We're gonna meet again and next time, I'll be strong enough to protect you better than ever. Don't forget me, okay?"
I looked up and out the window at the red skyline and beautiful lights as I remembered my dream from last night. Well not really a dream, but a distant memory from my past life. I truly missed Elliot and wondered if his family really took care of him like he deserved.
I felt arms wrap around me and I look up at Alekzander. His almost onyx colored hair was blowing softly in the wind and his eyes were looking off into the city.
"What're out here thinking about so hard, my love?" The corners of his mouth turned up as he looked at me with his mischievous eyes.
"I swear I see smoke coming out your ears," he kissed the side of my head and then softly pressing his lips against mine.
"I'm just thinking about how far I've come from being a scared little girl to finding out I have these powers."
I said leaning on the balcony.
"I remember what you've told me about your past, but I know there's more to it than you're saying," I heard his voice rumbling through my back.
I looked down and sighed.
"I'm not going to force you to do anything you're not comfortable with and whenever you're ready to tell me everything, just know I'll be here alright?"
I smiled and looked into the compacted blues of the sea called his eyes.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" I said turning towards him fully leaning my back against the smooth marble of the balcony.
"Yes, but tell me again in case of memory loss," he smirked and reaches his hand behind my neck, pulling me forward into a heated kiss.
We hear a loud cough from the bedroom and looked over to see his mother standing at the entrance. I jumped away faster than Usain Bolt.
"Um, sorry Mrs. de Nocturno! We didn't see you there," I said while fixing the hair Alekzander just messed up. Like seriously, I know he did my hair for me, but that doesn't mean he can mess it up all the time.
"Is that sass I hear babygirl?" I hear Alek say in my head.
"Yes indeed it is because it takes 2 hours to do all this hair boo," I send a quick look towards him and see him lift an eyebrow and just nod.
"Hmm.... alright I'm going to remember that baby," Alekzander said with a look of what I can only interpret as the look of every sexual position going across his mind like a menu at a restaurant that he was gonna use to try and knock me up.
"Darling, didn't I tell you to call me eithe Anastasia or Mom," Anastasia said with a pout, "Mrs. de Nocturno makes me remember how old I am. I mean the last time I heard it was when we were raiding Mesopotamia for their gold- actually no, the last time was when we were helping the French resistance!" She said with a clap of her hands.
I feel my head cock all the way to the right because I just remembered how long this woman has been alive to see the first discovered human civilization on the planet.
"Ah! Before I get carried away, I came by to remind you and Alekzander to go shopping for the evening ball tonight. The theme is masquerade!" She squealed like a thirteen year old getting her ears pierced.
"Sorry mom," I laugh and watched her face light up. "An evening ball?" I questioned.
She nodded excitedly. "I know the theme is a bit over used, but if I created it, why shouldn't I use it?! I mean I show up in Venice to an ball wearing a mask to cover my blemish one time, you hear me? ONE TIME! And now EVERYONE does it!" She put her hands up in the air in anguish.
I just blankly stare at her. I mean what else do you do when you hear the reason why people since the 15th century have been wearing masks to parties is because one woman was having a break out.
Anastasia let out a breathe and smiled at me with her eyes crinkling.
"Anyways, let me know when you go out to look because I want to help you shop for dresses! Well as the Italians stole from me say: arri ve derci!"
As quickly as she appeared, she disappeared like a ghost in a blink of an eye.
I turned and looked at Alek.
"You're mother is one of the most amazing people I have ever met," I said with a look of awe.
Alekzander laughed and walked over into the closet to put on clothes.
"Yeah she is at first, but after she tells the same story about pranking Christopher Columbus into thinking he found India for the millionth time, it gets kind of boring."
He walked out dressed like a model for Urban Outfitters mixed with an ad for Dior Men in a grey fitted sweater, black ripped jeans, and some nice shoes that I'm sure cost over $600.
He walked over to me and held out his hand.
"You ready to be the belle of the ball?"
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Word count: 1728
YOU ARE READING
The Incubus Inside Me
ParanormalI guess you can call him the man of my dreams.... or the man of my wet dreams. Aaliyah Jones didn't know what to expect when the man of her dreams became the man of her reality. All she knew was that he wasn't human... and he had a big d*ck.
