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the room and raise his favorite son into his arms

and abandon me in the darkness of the bedroom.

This was my birthday present.

Matthew and I were the same age for one day.

Each year on my birthday, Bobby would toss

Matthew and I into our bedroom and warn us

that only one of us was allowed to emerge. The

other was to be beaten until he could not get up.

Each year I lost. Each year Matthew was

rewarded. I lost because I was not used to fighting

back. I was accustomed to Bobby’s daily beatings.

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Any sign of defense only brought a more

aggressive beating.

This was my fifth birthday, November 10th, 1978.

As I stood facing my brother, he was no less than

six inches taller than me. Lean and strong in

contrast to my cherubic soft form, he had been

nurtured by Bobby to be a fighter and a thief. He

roared toward me to earn yet another victory. As

he lunged forward, I stepped out of his way, and

he stumbled over some of the toys on the floor

behind me. With his face down on the floor, I

took my chance and jumped on him and

pounded my tiny fists into every area of his back

and head that I could reach. He squirmed and

attempted to roll over. I lost my balance and fell

forward, covering his body with my own. Our

heads collided before Matthew’s head hit the

floor. I sat up, higher now on his back and

grabbed his hair. In a wild frenzy I smashed his

face into the hard concrete floor. With my knees

pinned on his back, he could not roll over, and I

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could not stop myself from smashing his face over

and over again. My rage had taken over, and I

was lost in the new feeling of triumph.

“Ge’off, ge’off,” I heard Matthew yelp. I ignored

his pleas for release but allowed him to roll over.

His face was red and beginning to bruise. His

forehead and mouth were streaming blood. I

balled my fists together and pounded them down

onto his sculptured face like a hammer. His head

bounced a last time before he spit blood onto my

shirt. My energy was gone, but I brought my fists

down in a flurry of connecting blows to each side

of his face. I had never fought so much before

and soon I had no energy to continue the combat.

I stood up and kicked him in his ribs. He rolled

over to avoid another kick but I kicked him in the

back. A tooth fell out of his mouth in a pool of

blood as he began to scream. His scream was

loud and strangled with blood. I heard the door

open behind me then quickly slam shut. Bobby

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said something I could not hear through the door

but I could hear him laughing.

Reinvigorated by Bobby’s laughter, I jumped

back on Matthew and pounded my tiny soft fists

at any surface of his body I could reach. His

blood excited and disgusted me at the same time.

I knew if I left Matthew conscious he would get

up and pounce on me before I left the room.

Matthew wasn’t moving. He had stopped

struggling and screaming. I could feel him

breathing beneath me but I could not stop my

attack. I had been attacked so many times by

Bobby, Debbie, Matthew, and all of the

neighborhood kids, and all of those beatings

produced an anger I had never known until I sat

on top of Matthew and watched the blood pour

from his mouth. His face was swollen to resemble

my own. Bobby’s words of encouragement to

Matthew rang in my head. I knew I had won, and

it felt good. For the first time I felt good, and
I

wanted to be rewarded.

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I was sweating as I stood up and looked down at

my brother, prone and motionless on the floor. I

felt that I had finally become the son Bobby had

always wanted, another fighter, and another

strong protégé, to be paraded about in front of

the endless parties of friends as he did with

Matthew. I kicked Matthew one last time before I

walked backward to the door, making sure he was

not getting up. He did not move as I clicked the

light off and opened the door and emerged

victoriously, clomping breathlessly into the short

hall toward the living room.

“Damn boy, you good. That was fast. Come on

and have a seat,” Bobby said without turning

away from the television. I stumbled into the

living room and presented myself before Bobby

and Debbie, my clothes covered in Matthew’s

blood. Bobby’s hand came up and slapped the

side of my face before I ever noticed his hand

move.

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“What the fuck you doin’ out here boy?” Bobby

bellowed.

“Where tha fuck’s yo brotha?” he screamed as I

tried to raise myself from the floor quickly, but

the kick came and knocked me on my back, as he

yelled, “Don’t get all that gotdamn blood on my

floor, get the fuck up boy. What the fuck you doin

out that room?”

We got up at the same time. Bobby raised himself

from the couch as I scurried across the living

room floor trying to avoid being hit. Bobby

moved quickly toward the bedroom while yelling

back that I had better not have hurt his son.

Debbie moved from the couch and smiled at me

without saying a word. I scuttled back away from

her, but she caught me easily and drew me up

into her arms.

“I love you baby, I’m so sorry. Happy birthday.

I’ll get you a present soon, I promise.” She smiled

slightly and with her face close to mine she began

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to cry and repeated, “I’m sorry.” I knew there

would be no present.

Before I could say a word, Bobby exploded into

the room holding Matthew’s limp body.

“Get a gotdamn washrag. Get this boy cleaned

up. What tha fuck you think you doin’ hittin’

your gotdamn brother like this? I’ma kick yo ass!”

He gently placed Matthew on the couch as

Debbie scampered to the adjoining kitchen,

returning quickly with a wet rag and began

dabbing Matthew’s face. The same rage welled

up inside me as Matthew’s limp body was so

tenderly laid out on the couch. On this same

night each year previously I had been left alone in

the dark to wake up in the morning covered in

blood and bruises which I had to clean myself

while the rest of the family celebrated Matthew’s

birthday.

When he saw Debbie dutifully cleaning Matthew,

Bobby unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of

his pants. The familiar crack brought me to

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attention across the small living room. I stood by

the television where Debbie had left me, and now

I realized I was cornered. The belt swung down

and slashed me across the face. I fell to my knees

and covered my face with my hands. The belt

continued to rain down again and again until

blood from my hands streamed into my eyes and

mouth. Semiconscious, I bled out onto the floor.

Bobby reached down and lifted me by one arm

and dragged me to the couch where Matthew was

recovering and seemed to be gaining

consciousness. Debbie had his mouth open and

was applying an ice-filled baggie to the space in

his mouth where his tooth had been.

“So you big now? You gonna beat yo brother like

you got something? Show me what da fuck you

got. Come and gimme some of that, big man!”

Bobby was yelling at the top of his voice.

Debbie looked up from tending Matthew, “Baby

you told them to fi-”. Before the word was out her

mouth, Bobby’s mighty arm had slung the belt

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down across her back. “Bitch, this don’t concern

you.” Bobby wheeled around and slashed my face

with an up-handed whip of his belt.

“You like that shit, make you feel big don’t it?”

Blood poured onto the floor though it went

unnoticed in Bobby’s fury. My hair was sticking

to my eyes and forehead. I couldn’t see clearly,

but I saw Matthew moving on the couch. Bobby

saw him too. His attention turned quickly, as if I

had never been there.

“How you doin boy?” Bobby spoke gently as his

rage transformed into concern, though he still

clutched the belt firmly in his hand.

“Awight,” replied Matthew, now sitting up on the

couch. “My mouf ‘urts,” he mumbled shakily.

“What the fuck you doin lettin’ dis asshole hit you

like this? Yo face all red and ya got a toof

knocked out. What the fuck is this boy? I taught

you better than this. Gonna let this asshole kick

yo ass?”

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Matthew tried to explain but his voice only made

Bobby laugh and it was impossible to hear what

Matthew was saying.

“Get me a beer bitch, and get some for the boys

too. Shit I guess they earned that shit this time.”

He was speaking to Debbie but he spun around

and stared at me as if seeing me for the first time

since bringing Matthew out of the bedroom.

“SO, you a badass now?” Bobby barked with a

half-smile.

I stood frozen having not been given permission

to speak. For a brief moment I felt a spark of

pride through the stinging pain tearing through

my body. Debbie handed me a bottle of beer.

The cold glass felt good against my swollen

hands. I switched the bottle from hand to hand as

I wiped the blood from my hands onto my pants

so I could hold the beer. I took a drink and felt

the liquid sting the open cuts in my mouth.

“Well boy, I’m talking to you, answer me.”

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“No. I was doing what you told me to do. I didn’t

mean to hurt him.”

“BULLSHIT!” his voice boomed inside the tiny

apartment and the beer slipped from my hands as

I shook. I caught the bottle as it slid down my

legs. Bobby approached and bent down, putting

his face in mine.

“When you hit someone you hit them to hurt

them. You always mean to hurt someone you hit,

that’s why you hit them. That’s why you always

lose when those boys out there kick yo ass, and

that’s why you lose when yo brother kicks yo ass.

You’re too much uva pussy to hit anyone.” He

took a long pull from his beer and reached for the

joint Debbie was smoking. She handed it to him

and he took a drag. Then he handed the joint to

me.

“I guess you not a pussy tonight now are ya? Ya

little prick.” He turned again to Matthew as I

grabbed the burning joint from his giant

fingertips.

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I set my bottle on the floor and held the joint in

my lips. After my hands were dry and free of

blood, I balanced the joint in my mouth and took

a quick drag and then another. The smoke

burned but it was familiar and pleasant. I

coughed a little as I reached for my beer. I walked

to the couch and handed the joint to Debbie. She

looked at me with pride as she reached out her

thin fragile fingers. Her dirty fingernails caressed

the back of my hand and a chill ran through my

body. I was so unaccustomed to my mother’s

delicate touch.

“Give that shit back, he earned it,” Bobby

commanded. Debbie’s trance-like gaze was

broken and she looked up at Bobby from the

couch. She put her feet on the floor and leaned

forward to hand the joint back to me. I took the

burning joint from her outstretched fingers and

raised it to my lips without looking at her again.

Before I could taste the warming smoke, Bobby’s

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hand had smacked the side of my head, rushing

me away from the living room.

“Now get the fuck outta here. I can’t stand

lookin’ at you.” Bobby snarled without looking at

me. His attention was fully trained on Matthew. I

was too stunned to move, and Bobby did not

notice that I was still in the room.

“Drink up boy; you feel better in a minute.”

Bobby was cooing at Matthew. He tilted

Matthew’s beer, making foam run down his chin.

“My mouf ‘urts,” Matthew said again.

“Boy, I don’t wanna hear that shit outch yo mouf

ever again. I don’t care how bad you beat you

don’t ever say you hurt. You hear me? Aint no

son a mines gonna be talking ‘bout bein’ hurt.

That some pussy ass shit and you aint no pussy

ass nigga like yo brother. Ya hear me boy?”

Matthew nodded. He brought the beer to his

mouth again.

Bobby slapped Matthew’s leg and stared down

sternly, “You will not lose to that boy again, ya

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hear me?” Without giving Matthew a chance to

respond, he moved his giant hand to Matthew’s

back and pushed him off of the couch.

“It’s probably time for your birthday now, get

ya’self another beer, and get that joint from yo

brother. Good night boy.”

Bobby fell onto the couch as Matthew walked

triumphantly to the kitchen. As he walked around

the far side of the couch, I limped off into our