Jimmy is alone

Johnny Parker was a really good looking kid. When he was little he had known it. He saw it in the eyes of the women, in their smiles and their demeanor. With his mother and grandmother then with the neighbors as well as his aunts and cousins.
It was one of her who deflowered him.
He was fourteen, she was thirty-two.
She was the wife of his older brother. They had two children aged ten and six. His uncle drank a lot, a lot, too much. He was abandoning his companion who was still young and beautiful at that time.
He was becoming a handsome teenager, it was summer, it was hot. Her parents had gone shopping. Her aunt had decided to come and spend the afternoon with her two cousins. He played with them and laughed at their inexperience. She had called from afar to come help him, her voice hoarse, plaintive, surprisingly tight. Nevertheless, he had left for the house, leaving the children to have fun under the old tree. At the time, he had ignored the tone of her voice. She was not on the first floor of the house. A noise indicated that she was up there.