Chapter 2

Smoke didn‘ t take everything from me that night. I still managed to own a tiny piece of joy. Sometimes I had to dig deep to find it.

Although Smoke wore the evidence that proved he had violated me, Aunt Hope still refused to believe it. She couldn‘t face what Smoke did to me because accepting it would mean that her man wasn‘t who she thought he was. Instead of confronting the obvious she ignored it and she worked even harder to please Smoke. She cooked, cleaned, worked, even ironed his draws and jumped whenever he coughed.

No matter how many times Aunt Hope changed her hair dos, how much weight so lost on Weight Watchers, the Bahamian Diet or Slim Fast, or how good she cooked or screwed Smoke, he was still the same sorry ass loser and her conscious wouldn‘t let

her forget or ignore the truth. For almost two years, she was in a constant battle of denying or accepting. Eventually, denying it ate her away and left her with a crumbled and decaying soul.

―Storm,‖ Aunt Hope yelled from the kitchen. ―Didn‘t I tell you to clean up the damn kitchen?‖
―I‘m coming,‖ I answered sleepily. ―Gimme five minutes.‖

―Five minutes? No. Bring your ass here right now…right this second, Storm! I‘m tired of repeating myself over and over again with you.‖

I sucked my teeth and released a heavy sigh. ―But I‘m tired.‖
―And don‘t be in there talkin‘ under your breath either. Don‘t let me have to come in there and smack the shit out of yourass.‖
What she got bionic ears now? ―I ain‘t say nothing,‖ I answered back.
―Just get your ass in here and clean this kitchen!‖
I got up from the bed and put my slippers on. I gotta make a move soon, I thought.

* * *

― You can throw them pots and pans around all you want but you betta not break a fuckin‘ thing or it‘s gonna me and you tonight.‖

―It‘s me and you every night,‖ I mumbled. Aunt Hope put her crack pipe down; got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. ―What you just say?‖

―Nothing,‖ I answered back nervously.
―No, bitch,‖ Aunt Hope began ramming her index finger on my temple. You said something…I‘m tired of your ass thinking you grown. There is only one queen in this fuckin‘ palace and that‘s me! You think you so bad then you know what you can do…you can get the hell out my fuckin‘ house. That‘s what!‖
I had grown tired of the daily threats and tired of screwing nasty old men to support her and Smoke‘s crack habit but it wasn‘t time to leave yet. I was only thirteen years old and fucking for free. I had to plan.

―I‘m sorry,‖ I lied hesitantly. It wasn‘t because I didn‘t know how to lie. It was what followed after it.

―You damn right you sorry…a sorry lazy ass. That‘s what you are. No wonder Lisa left you. You drove the poor woman crazy. She was fine before she had you. Your momma was beautiful and smart ass shit. Yes she was. I mean how many black woman morticians you know? None. That‘s how many. She was all of that…a good Christian woman with a beautiful future ahead of her. ‗Til she met your sorry ass father and that was all she wrote. She got knocked up with you and when you was born all you did was cry. Tank had to feed her drugs to keep the poor woman from goin‘ crazy.

―You cried for two years straight. You know that? I ain‘ t never seen a baby like you in my life…cry, cry, cry. That‘s all you did.‖ Aunt Hope walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa. She had told me this story more times than I could remember. Yet every time Aunt Hope told it, the words spoke to my heart as if it were the very first time. Every since I told her that Smoke had raped me, Aunt Hope became a stranger to me. Smoke acted like a bitch, and I was the enemy to them both.

Aunt Hope took the plastic bag off of her hair and unbuttoned her jeans. ―Smoke did I ever tell you, Storm cried so much I wouldn‘t even shake a man‘s hand…too scared I would get pregnant and end up having a child like Storm. You know that‘s why I ain‘t never have no kids…because of Storm.‖ They both laughed. Aunt Hope picked up the lighter and began smoking.

The phone began to ring.
―Storm answer the phone! I don‘t understand why you gotta let it ring four or five times before you pick it up anyway. Any other

kid would be happy and running to answer the phone.‖ ―Hello. Yes, hold on.‖ My palms instantly became sweaty. Rells was a drug kingpin. When Aunt Hope and Smoke ran up their tab

and didn‘t have the money to pay it off they offered Rells free reign of my body. I turned my attention to Aunt

Hope. ―It‘s Rells.‖
―Rells?‖ Aunt Hope asked.
―Yes,‖ I answered handing her the telephone. Aunt Hope covered the mouthpiece and whispered.

―You know what he probably calling for…so go on and get yourself ready. ‗Cause I ain‘t got no money.‖
―But…but, I‘m tired and I got a test tomorrow.‖ ―No buts,‖ she snapped. ―Hand me that phone and go on and get out my face.‖
* * *

I knew it was time to plan my escape from hell. The flicker of joy I had managed to keep had allowed me to continue daydreaming about one day being a famous singer…the next Monica. The longer I stayed there, the longer it would take me to become a star.

There was one thing that Smoke, Bill, Dollar Bill, Mousie, Rells and the rest of the men I was forced to have sex with had in common...they never looked me in the eye. Deep down inside they were just like the boys my age…insecure but always trying to act powerful. They enjoyed my fear. The more I cried, the harder they would hump on me. If there was anything I had learned lately from Aunt Hope was she knew how to make you feel ashamed and powerless. If I tried to stand up for myself, she would bring me right down with her hurtful words and attack on Momma.

I had a plan, this time when Rells humped on me, I humped back. He stopped immediately. Then he slighted lifted himself off of me and looked me in the eyes. I put my hands on his butt, pulled him back toward me, and slowly moved again…this time I moaned. With everything in me, I pretended to enjoy the thickness of the unwanted flesh that was inside of me. Then I tightly closed my eyes and fantasized about LL Cool J. I opened my legs as wide as I could, then I began to sing his name, ―Rellllls.‖ Without saying a word, Rells abruptly withdrew his shriveled penis out of me; pulled up his draws, and then his sweatpants. When Rells reached the door; he dug in his pocket took something out and threw it on top of the milk crate.

I got up; picked up the crisped $50 dollar bill and smiled. I had messed up his head and finally got paid.