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bedroom door was closed, and there was no light

coming from underneath. Behind that door

Matthew was sound asleep or pretending to be.

The sheets were torn off of their bed at each

corner and bunched up beneath my mother who

was curled up on her side in the center of it all.

Freeing my neck from his hand, Bobby heaved

me onto the bed. Debbie scuttled the few inches

to me and huddled her body on top of mine for

protection. Something hit her on the back, and

the force reverberated through my body.

“Get off that mufucka,” he warned.

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His massive chest heaved as he took a deep

breath and continued, “Aint no use, bitch. You

got it comin.”

The brush appeared in the big man’s hand, and

he hammered it across her head. She let loose her

embrace to shield her head from subsequent

blows. Bobby grabbed my shins and tore me from

my mother’s cover. Heaped onto the floor at the

foot of the bed, I stared up at Bobby. He pulled

my mother’s legs taut. Her feet appeared in my

face. They looked strikingly pink against his hard

brown skin. His hands wrapped easily around her

ankles; his forearms bulged from the effort of

dragging her into position. When her knees and

back were flat against the bed, he crawled on top

of her in a position I had seen many times.

I thought I would be watching them have sex

again. He called it “havin his old lady.” Instead of

mounting her, he crawled over her. His crotch

was on her face. This too I had seen many times,

but this time his clothes were on, and he was

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reaching for the nightstand next to the bed. He

opened the drawer with his right hand and

fumbled around in the drawer. Pulling out several

items, some he placed on the bed, others he

tossed aside onto the carpet. His left hand was

sorting through the items he had placed on the

bed. Over his arched back, I watched him stuff

something under a pillow that had been crammed

between the bare wall and the mattress.

Bobby rolled off of the bed. Undoing his belt he

walked to the door and flipped the switch on the

light. He moved the few steps back to the bed and

turned on the light that stood on the nightstand.

Long ago a red scarf had been thrown over the

top of the lamp, so the room was instantly bathed

in red light. I was still lumped on the floor while

Bobby manipulated my mother’s prostrate limbs.

This was all too familiar, and now I knew I would

be watching Bobby “have his old lady.”

“Put’yer face in it!” demanded the beast I had

met in the bathroom.

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He pointed to my mother’s pubic hair. I knew

more about sex then than I should have. Bobby

had made me watch him rape my mother many

times. I knew that I did not want to put my face

down there.

“Motherfucker” he snarled.

Then his teeth clenched tightly, “I said put yo

face in it and I mean put yo gotdamn face in‘at

shit NOW!” The words narrowly escaped his

mouth.

Debbie started to raise herself off of the bed in

objection. Bobby reached behind his back and

whipped his right hand over his head and came

down on Debbie’s head with such force that it

sounded like two rocks colliding. From his

clenched fist, his gun appeared. It was small and

black with a brown handle. It was a gun I had

seen often. Bobby liked to wield it when we broke

into houses. He wore it in his sock when we went

around the corner. He almost never left the house

without it.

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He put the gun in his left hand and cleared the

bloody hair from my mother’s face with his right.

The hair was caked and matted from the dried

blood and random hairs still clung to her face as if

they too wanted to escape Bobby’s grasp. The

long red hairs looked like scars across Debbie’s

stark white face. Bobby tightened his grip on the

hair still in his hand.

“Tell that little mufucka to do it or I’m aunna

fuckin do it and you don’ want me da fuckin do

it.”

I could hardly make out what she was saying

through the tears, and then she stammered out,

“B,b,b,baby, do as your daddy tells you.” She

sucked in her snot and tears with a loud snort and

continued, “Please do as your daddy tells you.”

He wasn’t my daddy, but he liked to be called

that, especially when he was beating me. Also, I

wasn’t defying him or attempting to not do as I

was told. I was in shock, and I was frozen in

place. I didn’t want to know what was going to

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happen. I did not want to put my face near my

mother. My body, scorched from the ice bath,

could not move from the floor.

Through his clenched teeth came the staggered

instruction, “Open yo fuckin mouf. Do it. Open

yo fuckin mouf, now!”

My lips parted, and the grimy gun barrel

slammed into my mouth. The steel crashed

against my teeth as my tongue pressed into the

opening of the barrel. Bobby’s finger was on the

trigger as he cocked the hammer down.

“Suck it mufucka, suck that shit down.” His spit

stung my face as he barked the order.

Turning to Debbie - writhing on the bed - he

sneered, “You like that, bitch? You better tell this

sonuvabitch to do as he’s told or he aint gonn’ be

alive no more.” He pounded his fist into her face

and she was instantly still.

Lying prone on the bed, she shrieked, “Please

baby, do it, just do as your told. Please baby.

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Pleeease!” Her last word came out as she choked

again on her tears.

She pled as if I had a choice. I had been beaten

raw in the deepest part of the night. I was

exhausted and weak. Disobedience was not my

goal. I sucked the gun barrel, as if it were candy I

was seldom afforded.

“You look just like your whore mother, you

faggot. You suck it so good maybe you should be

suckin my dick and teach her somethin.”

He turned his glaring eyes to Debbie, “What you

think about that bitch? You want our boy to show

you how to suck a man’s dick?”

It was more a threat than a question.

He turned back and watched me intently and I

could see his forearms sweating again as he slowly

slid the gun back and forth over my lips.

As I noticed his erection, he quickly pulled the

gun out of my mouth and set the weapon on the

dresser that stood behind me. He bent over the

slightest bit, putting his head near the top of the

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dresser. Placing a length of a straw in his nose, he

snorted something from the mirror that I knew

was up there. His head roared back while the

straw was dropped back to the mirror. He

squeezed his nose closed with one hand and spit

on the carpet. I wiped the saliva from my mouth,

trying to get rid of the powdery taste of the gun.

Then the gun was waving between my face and

my mother’s crotch while he said again, “Put’yer

face in it.”

I pushed myself to my feet and flopped my head

on my mother’s soft belly. My face stuck to her

sweating torso immediately. My skin screamed as

Bobby’s powerful hand peeled me from her

warmth and he jerked me into position. Thrown

between Debbie’s legs, my arms bent beneath my

bony chest as my shoulders were pinned against

her thighs. My nose burned as I stared between

my mother’s legs.

Bobby gripped the back of my head and hissed,

“Lick it boy.”

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She stunk of filth, sweat and urine. I obeyed.

“Yeah, mufucka. That’s my boy,” he gloated.

As he waved the gun back and forth, I trained my

stare on Bobby as I obeyed. My body was

comfortable and warm. Looking at Debbie he

stammered out,

“
Sprea’dat shit
bitch.
Let the boy
in
.” His voice was cool and he was high.

The tone of his voice told me that this was only

the beginning. Bobby’s rage was wild and

unpredictable, but once it began subtle cues

clearly delineated a cycle. He was only now

catching his stride. It was going to be a long

night.

Debbie’s fingernails gouged my flesh as her hands

appeared in my face. She was still scratching my

face when she pushed my head backward and out

of her way. Her knuckles were clammy against

my cheek. Smoothing back the pubic hair shot a

putrid odor directly into my nose. She splayed her

fingers and pressed her palms to the inside of her

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thighs. Bobby’s voice broke in, exacerbating my

horror.

“Yeah girl. You know how da do it,” he said,

smooth talking his old lady.

His head dipped forward to punctuate the words

that slurred toward me excitedly, “Now get on

‘nat shit
boy. Lick
that
shit. ‘At’s good shit.”

He stepped quickly behind me, snorted the

powder from the dresser, and stepped back beside

me with the gun pressed against the back of my

head. It was no longer cocked, but his finger

remained perched on the hammer.

“Lick it boy. Lick that pussy. She like to have her

pussy out and damn sure I aint eatin’at shit. You

gonn’ b’eating
dat shit
all night,
“ he said while licking white powder from the tips of his fingers,

“till I tell you ta stop. And when you done, you

gonn’ keep goin’. Ya hear me boy?” His ghastly

voice forced the question through clenched teeth.

I cowered in response.

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I didn’t dare say anything. He didn’t ever want to

hear my voice. Years before, Bobby had taught

me the rules to taking a beating and he corrected

my mistakes with more beatings. The rules to

taking a beating: stand up, stand still, hands to the

sides, never say a word unless told to speak,

crying makes it worse.

Debbie cried and squirmed as my mouth

awkwardly maneuvered around her most intimate

region. The smell wasn’t as bad anymore but my

nose continued to burn as I followed Bobby’s

instructions. Bobby had no patience. He liked to

give orders, and they were to be followed exactly

as he wanted, the first time. It was best not to

hesitate, and questioning was never an option.

While I chose to concentrate on Debbie’s crying

to occupy my mind, it had seemed to escape

Bobby’s attention until now. Feeling the release of

pressure on the back of my head, I looked up to

see Bobby flip the gun on his finger and smash

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the butt of the gun into my mother’s forehead

and begin to yell.

“Bitch you
know
you like it. You don’t stop crying

I’m gonn’ make
this
little mufucka cry.” He

pushed the gun from her face to mine and back

again. “Which it gonn’ be bitch?” he asked,

holding the butt of the gun inches from her face.

She sucked her lips trying to hold in her cries.

Satisfied by her stifled whimper, Bobby turned his

eyes to me. To avoid a thunderous blast from the

butt of the gun, I stuck my tongue out and

continued as before.

“Oh yeah boy, you likin’at shit aint ya?” he

roared on the verge of laughter.

“Bitch, this boy gonn’ be after that shit all the

time now baby. We gonn’ have a lot of fun wit’

dis mufucka now.” He sneered, waving his head

with a wicked grin.

”I aint gonn’ be able t’do
my
business with this

little fucker eatin all his momma all day.” Bobby

was enthusiastic and impressing himself when my

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mother let out a sharp, piercing scream. I thought

my mother had just died with my head trapped

between her legs. Her chest convulsed and she

began to breath heavily after Bobby suddenly fell

another blow with the butt of the gun to her

forehead. She was still alive.

“Shut yo mouf bitch.” He warned as his head

cocked to the side.

Suddenly the taste changed. I pulled away. Bobby

noticed my reaction, and smiled.

“Get up” he said while abruptly hoisting me onto

my feet.

“Bitch look at‘is boy’s dick,” he ordered while

pointing the gun at my five-year old penis.

”How the hell he gonna be fuckin you if you aint

got no dick hard. What tha fuck’s yo problem?

That boy done gone and made you cum and you

can’t even get him hard? Bitch you a sorry piece’a

ass.” He bent down slowly and wrapped a giant

fist in her matted hair, pulling her upper body off

216

of the bed. He swung the gun to her face and

then at me.

“Suck his dick,” he casually commanded.

“Suck ‘at little dick,” he repeated as he began to

sweat.

“You better get that little mufucka hard and if

you stop before it’s hard…” He wasn’t done

when Debbie suddenly came to life and clawed at

Bobby’s face throwing her legs in the air trying to

get away from his grasp.

“Nooohohohoh!” Her chest heaved as she pushed