I somehow turned into a menace. The sweet little girl who was battling all kinds of mental issues because of what had been done prior to being relocated, it all took a toll on me.
I hated the fact that my grandmother worked for white people, who I believe were younger than her, if only by a little bit or older by a few years. To me, they were fully capable of caring for themselves. It wasn’t embarrassing, having my grandmother work for white people but I just didn’t understand it. I thought of blacks cleaning white people’s homes as slavery. How could this be? My grandmother didn’t deserve this. Was this my fault? Did she work here to make ends meet because I was here? And although they were very good to her, I hated the entire idea of it.
I started to rebel and sneak out with my new best friend Quita. I used my grandmothers credit card to buy clothes for Quita and I, skipped school, drank Smirnoff and smoked black and mild’s with my cousin and I stole stuff from Walmart, Belk’s, whenever.
Side note: I have grown to hate Walmart as an adult and I am a faithful Target shopper.
I remember one day my twin cousins were supposed to come to our house and Quita was supposed to meet me there as well after school. My cousins friend Brock came to the house, beating my cousins there, and asked my grandmother if it were okay to wait. She said yes as we all knew one another’s family and she was leaving anyway so she didn’t mind.
As I waited in my grandmothers room, which was claimed as my room during the day, I hear Brock open the door to my room, which led to my grandmothers room.
I jumped up and walked over to him and told him he wasn’t allowed back here and to wait for the boys in the front room. All I kept thinking was, where in the hell is Quita? While he was very tall and scrawny looking, he was very strong; and forceful. He backed me up against my bed, the hard steel rail from my foot-board hurting the mess out of my back.
He started, or tried, to kiss on me and I kept telling him to stop and pushed him off of me but it didn’t work, at all. I despised him and his hazel contacts and was utterly disgusted at the look he had in his eyes. He still didn’t stop though. My virgin self and his unruly eagerness made me think I was being punished for something I had done once before, maybe? I was a freshman and he a senior. Also, he was dating a very close friend of mine.
I didn’t understand. Why were his hands in my pants? Why was I frozen? How did my body go so limp yet so stiff at the same time? Why was I bent over? Why was I bleeding? I had so many questions. I’ve lied about this story so many times, not ever wanting to let the truth out because the thought of what actually happened to me makes me sick to my stomach. And throughout the whole time he violated me worse than I had ever been violated before, all I kept wondering was, where in the hell is Quita?