Before I was Planted
In the middle of the night, in the complete darkness, he would do things to her. He would do things to her that any person with half of a heart, would never do. He was her older sister’s man, but instead he acted like a stranger. He acted like someone who hated her, someone who wanted to destroy every fiber of her being. As he forced things in places that didn’t fit at first but he would poke and prod, push and pull, bite and rip while she cried and screamed in the complete darkness, but no one heard her. The routine was the same every day. He would enter into her family’s home as if he was there to do good, but his intentions were the extreme opposite. As he walked inside and wiped his dirty soles on the welcome mat, she wished there was a place for him to clean the dirt that formed over his soul and besides, he wasn’t welcome. In the room lit by one lamp without a shade music blasts, jokes are told, and laughter erupts as some family and friends sit at the table playing their favorite card game. When they noticed who walks in, everyone becomes quiet and they greet him with, “You got what we need,” he grins with one gold tooth amidst his other teeth, “of course.” He would drop vodka and heroine on the table and they would grab for it like kids in the candy store grabbing for their favorite lollipops. He would watch them get high or in reality sink to the lowest of the low, knowing that he would soon get his fix, his dose of her. She could hear the whole scene from her room and she had seen this play before so she knows what’s next and how it will end. (Action) He notices that the drugs have taken its toll on her family and this is the perfect time to get what he came for. He looks around and makes sure that her family is in a daze and then he gets up and begins walking to her room. He walks over some of her family members who lay on the floor intoxicated and tiptoes to make sure no one awakes. His scent reaches her room before he does; a smell of vodka and other drugs she didn’t know the names of. She knew this moment was coming but no amount of mental preparation would get her ready for what was about to happen. He opens the door and calls her name in a whispering tone, in a loving tone but she knows that this has nothing to do with love. In the complete darkness she can hear him unbuttoning his shirt and it hitting the floor. She then hears him unbuckling his pants and it hitting the floor she cries as he whispers her name again. She acts like she’s sleep but she knows from previous experiences that this bear doesn’t fall for its prey playing dead. He snatches her covers away and gets into her bed. His body is cold and smells like a mixture of funk, smoke, and vodka and in the complete darkness she depends on her sense of smell and hearing. She doesn’t fight him but it does something to his ego to restrain her. He forces his tongue down her mouth as if she enjoys it but he knows it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with him. He rips off her underwear and yanks her legs open while holding down her arms and viciously inserts his piece of flesh that God gave him to create future generations not destroy present ones. He raped her, he raped her so much that what didn’t fit before fits perfectly now. She doesn’t even scream anymore because she feels it’s just a waste of energy. So she reserves her energy to fight the demons in her head that try to make her believe that it’s her fault. She needs the energy so she can fight the demons in her head trying to make her believe that it’s normal, that this atrocity is okay. She needs her energy to answer questions like, why don’t my brothers, cousins, mother and father come to my rescue? Don’t they love me? Don’t they care if their baby is being destroyed physically, spiritually, and mentally? He would tell her that this is okay, that her sister didn’t mind. “But I mind,” she thought, she screamed. And when he was done he left. But his
vodka scent remained. The marks on her wrist, thighs, arms and neck remained, his vodka scent saliva and his semen remained. Her blood on the sheets remained. She bled before bleeding became normal. His spirit remained. His spirit resembled the complete darkness, the darkness that surrounded her while he committed this crime. His spirit resembled the alcohol and drugs that he placed on the table that served as his toll money to get across this bridge. His spirit resembled the state of her siblings and parents who were in such a deep trance where they couldn’t hear their baby crying for help. She never met the devil but she swore that it had to be him. He continued this play, this monologue because she was only an object not looked at as a person only a tool to remove his tension of being a drug dealer, a drug user and a pimp. He continued to ease his tension into her night after night, week after week, year after year until the reason that action was created took its natural course. Can an action so ugly create something beautiful? Is it possible that something filthy and something pure can combine to create one of God’s greatest creations? I guess so if dirt and water can produce some of the greatest flowers the world has ever seen. She was my Grandmother and He was my grandfather (different from the man I call granddaddy today) and that mixture of filth and pureness created one of the greatest Rose’s ever seen. That Rose is my mother.