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don’t know how long I stood there, but I know it

had to have been the middle of the night because

my body did not want to be awake. As a kid, I

always wanted to be awake when morning came.

Just as I was about to fall over asleep, I was

knocked to the floor by a heavy hand to the side

of my head. I knew better than to fall asleep, but

my body couldn’t help it. I had not heard the

door open. I had not heard Bobby enter the

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room. I knew better than to fall asleep when he

had told me to get up.

I planted my hands on the ground and tried to

raise myself up to present myself again. I tried to

wake myself in my head. It had been only seconds

but it felt like hours in those few moments my

worn out body was allowed to rest on the floor.

My head was ringing, and my knees were weak. I

had just propped up on my hands and knees

when a forceful kick hammered into my chest.

My five-year-old body sailed easily to the back of

the room. For a few more seconds, I rested an

eternity. I could hear Bobby yelling at me but he

had knocked the wind out of me so I couldn’t pay

full attention to his words. In the now spinning

room I heard his growl through the blinding light.

“Wha’da fuck you think yer doin? You think you

funny bitch? Wha da fuck game ya think we’re

playin motherfucker? Get that suit off and get yer

ass in the shower NOW!” He raised his right arm

and pointed to the adjacent bathroom.

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Frantically rushing to get out of the suit, I

crouched, trembling and realizing I hadn’t taken

off my shoes, and that they were too large to pull

the pants over. I wasn’t moving fast enough, and

I knew it. Rushing forward in one giant step,

Bobby reminded me with a punch to the top of

my head. “Hurry the fuck up, I aint got all night!”

and I sprawled out on the floor from the impact.

Matthew was still asleep or pretending to be to

keep himself out of harm’s way.

With a single tremendous yank on my elastic

waistband, Bobby had not only pulled me off of

the ground, he had also pulled my underwear off

by tearing them under my weight. Standing in my

socks was good enough for him, and he pul ed me

out of the room, I slid into the bathroom along

the cold linoleum.

Two rough, calloused hands lifted me abruptly

from the floor and planted me into the half-filled

tub. I lost my breath the instant my socked feet

hit the freezing cold water. Silently, I fought to

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catch my breath, though I knew even then that

death would not come so easily. Standing there

shivering and breathless in the icy water, I didn’t

realize that Bobby had left the room. Before I

knew what was happening, I heard my mother

screaming from inside the room.

Fully awakened by the cold water, I opened my

eyes and saw my naked mother slammed onto the

toilet just inside the bathroom door. She had

come in dragged by her hair, which was wrapped

tightly in one of Bobby’s giant fists, the other fist

firmly wielding a large wooden hairbrush popular

in the 1970’s. He slapped the backside of the

brush against her forehead and began yelling.

“Bitch, you betta shut yo fuckin mouth. I’m not

letting this filthy motherfucker in my bed without

a bath. You gonna sit here an when we’re done

you goin to bed too.” With that he gave her one

more smack with the brush before leaving the

room. With blood streaming from her head, my

shuddering mother rushed to me and wrapped

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her arms around me. Her trembling arms made

me tremble even more. I wanted her to get away

from me before we were caught.

Luckily, whatever Bobby was doing outside that

door was making a lot of noise, and we both

heard him coming our way. She let go and

through chattering teeth said, ”I love you. I wish I

could help you.” I pushed her away as soon as I

felt her grip loosen. She sat down on the toilet

and mouthed, “I love you” over and over while

trying to fight back her tears.

Suddenly the kitchen trashcan appeared in the

doorway. Having seen all that I had seen in my

five years on earth, I shouldn’t have been

surprised, but I was. The dirty trashcan in the

little bathroom quickly turned the electrically

charged air rancid. As soon as I noticed the

bulging bottom of the plastic can, the room went

dark, and ice rained down over my body. It stung

and burned my already cold skin. The trashcan

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covered my body and held buoyant on the water,

as I sat crying in the now ice-filled tub.

“Get up motherfucker. I didn’t tell you to

si’down.” The can was lifted from the tub. The

glaring light made me wince. Bobby’s warm, dry

hand gripped my neck and yanked me to a

standing position. His hand smelled of tobacco,

sulfur, and trash. I could only concentrate on the

cold, still freezing my body. The water in the tub

was turning red from the blood that dripped from

my baby fat skin, ripped open by ice. I tried to

fold my arms to warm up, but my arms were stiff

when I tried to bend them, and my hands seemed

to burn my arm when I touched them. I noticed

my chubby arms were turning purple when my

mother grabbed me. Pain shot through me like a

shock, and I screamed in her face. My limbs were

becoming frost nipped; I couldn’t hold back from

the pain. She slapped me hard across the face and

began to cry even harder than she already had

been. I stared at her confused, and suddenly

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alone. Now she and Bobby were attacking me,

and I had nowhere to hide, as I stood naked

except for my socks in a bathtub full of blood-

stained ice water.

I heard the click of a lighter from the kitchen. A

cough and a loud fist on the counter followed.

Living with Bobby had sharpened my senses. I

had to be aware of everything he was doing at all

times when he was in the house. Not only was I

supposed to predict when he would need me, so I

could be standing in front of him at any moment,

but knowing where he was and what he was

doing was good for my health and safety. So I

listened for him at all times, especially times like

this. He was getting high in the kitchen, but I

didn’t know what it was he was smoking to

determine what mood he would be in.

I heard the kitchen faucet running now, and he

was fumbling around in a manic rage. I knew

then that I was in trouble. Drawers and doors

were slamming every few seconds, and the water

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I was standing in was only getting colder, as I lost

more and more blood. Debbie was lost in her

own pain, as she looked at me from the toilet seat.

Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her heels

balanced her on the toilet. She was as naked and

frozen with fear and pain as I was. Her hair was

wet and matted against her face in the front, but

the back stood up in a large hump from having

been pulled repeatedly by Bobby before I was

woken up.

Bobby liked to hurt Debbie, and hurting me was

his favorite way of hurting her. That’s all there

was to it. Since the day she had met him Bobby

had owned my mother. Somehow on this night

my mother had made Bobby mad, and now I was

paying the price.

Bobby appeared in the doorway, just as he had

before. The trashcan was in his arms but this time

I knew what to expect. Immediately Debbie

began screaming and pulling on Bobby’s arm

with all of her strength. She was not very strong

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to begin with. For years Debbie had been

addicted to drugs, heroin being her drug of

choice. She said she cut back when she was three

months pregnant with me. Once I was out of her

body, she was hooked again. During the six years

I lived with her - and for years afterward - my

mother Debbie was a hardcore junkie. Perched

on the toilet with glassy red eyes, she began to

beg. Bobby liked it when she begged. He made

her beg for everything.

“Please not again, please hit me,” she screeched

in vain.

Without a word Bobby raised his arms, which

were again wrapped around the trashcan. Debbie

lost her grip. With a flip of his enormous wrists

the trashcan rained down ice and water on me.

Gasping for breath, my mouth filled with trashy

iced water, I began to choke. The water and ice

combination drenched my nearly frozen body

and burned like fire pouring over me. The water

dulled the ice, but it pelted the already open cuts

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and stung like needles through the fire. Engulfed

in pain and suffocating, I fell to my knees into the

ice water. Bobby seized the moment as if it had

been choreographed. Without turning around he

threw the trashcan behind him and out the door.

It hit the hallway wall and was then reflected

toward the kitchen. Cowering on the toilet

Debbie tucked her knees closer to her face and

wrapped her arms around them as a shield

against the airborne trashcan.

I was still in the middle of a cough to clear my

throat when Bobby’s enormous hand covered the

back of my head. My face slammed into the ice

water forcing more water into my throat. Panic

was immediate, and my frozen limbs began to

flail. Bobby pulled me out of the water and

planted a piercing elbow into my back. The force

of the elbow blow had me nearly bent in half

backward in the tub. He put his face against

mine. His breath was disgusting, metallic and hot.

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“Boy, you aint gonna die so quick ya son of a

bitch. I got plans for you tonight. Ain’dat right

bitch?” Bobby said as he turned around to face

my mother.

Debbie whimpered but did not move.

With my soaking wet hair in his left hand, he

reached up to the sink and grabbed the brush

again with his right. The brush cracked against

the top of Debbie’s head over and over. “Answer

me bitch!”

Crack!

“We gonna have some fun”

Crack!

“Aint we?”

Crack!

He shoved the words from his mouth, as he

pounded the brush against my mother’s head.

He was nearly breathless now from all of the

activity. I could hear his heart hammering as he

leaned in close to me. He must have been

burning speed in the kitchen. His ashy brown skin

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was aglow with sweat and excitement. Again he

forced me under the water.

My face and shoulders were smashed against the

bottom of the tub. My feet flew into the air.

Anchored like a tripod beneath the water, I

grabbed for Bobby’s wrist with both hands.

Frantic and cold, I hyperventilated and swallowed

more water. My hands and feet flew in all

directions, trying to escape from the weight on

the back of my head. Lifeless, my legs collapsed

into the water. I had no more fight left in me, and

I went limp. For a few seconds, I felt no pain but

instead felt comfort and calm.

The icy water settled Bobby’s mania. He pulled

my head from the water and held my face to his.

He wasn’t sweating any more, and he looked

relaxed and sinister.

Smiling he said, “Dry y’ass off, now!”

He draped me over the side of the tub with a

force that evacuated blood and water from my

mouth to the floor.

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I didn’t watch as Bobby dragged my mother from

the bathroom. I was told to dry off, and that’s

what I did. Though I knew something else was

about to happen, it felt good to be alone and dry.

Even if the towel felt like sandpaper on my body,

it was much warmer out of the tub than in it. The

towel was navigated gently around each of the

cuts I could see. Tending to my own wounds had

become common practice, and I was gentle with

myself. Upon inspection, my skin was ripped,

purple, and more fragile than usual. I felt no pity

for my situation, but as I stood there I wished for

death. Every night and every day, I hoped that

that day would bring my death. I knew that death

would be the only escape from the torture and

pain.

My dissociation to the grave was hastily

terminated by Bobby’s hulking frame entering the

bathroom. Reaching out with a massive hand

aimed at my throat, Bobby was the most

terrifying thing I had ever seen. At that moment,

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I was seeing him for the first time. At that

moment, I was looking at a new man, a more

vicious and volatile creature than the one I had

lived with for the last several years.

Excitedly he said, “Le’s go mufucka. I got

somethin for you.”

Wrenching me off the floor, Bobby flung my

body around effortlessly. My head smacked the

doorframe, as he heaved me into the hall. My