Why I Hate Me - Part II
THE FOLLOWING ENTRY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND SOME OF ITS TEXT MIGHT BE FOUND OFFENSIVE OR UPSETTING TO THOSE WITH DELICATE SENSIBILITIES OR STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT SEXUAL CONTENT OR VIOLENCE.
Reflections on last night's entry ...
I think the last entry really does give a sampling of where the girl you are getting ready to read about is coming from. As recycling said in this comment, these are not necessarily bad things done by a bad person, but they are the reasons I hate me. They are sources of guilt, pain, remorse and sorrow. They are the most undesirable parts of me.
Besides, I have not shared many of these things with anybody in any real detail and I feel that, in order to be a good writer, I need to explore emotions and thoughts that have not been explored in a very long time.
Tonight I'm sure my writing style will have changed as this entry is long winded and a bit more reflective. It's also something that I know my husband has suspected, but never knew for sure -- unless I told him while drunk and don't remember.
So, if you'll bare with me -
1994 - I Fall In Love
After Shelly, the popular girl from last night's entry, graduated in May 1994, we really didn't speak much. Strike that. We didn't speak at all. It was as if I didn't exist to her and I didn't really care. I had used her much as she had used me and that was that. Mutually parasitic relationships were par for the course in my world at the time and I didn't care if I ever saw her again.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from her one evening in mid September asking if I wanted to work at the haunted house again this year. She explained that she was working for the guy who owned the venture as a part time sales person / secretary and that he had asked if I was working there again so she offered to call me to find out. Having no other job and with no where to go following a messy arrest of Kevin a month earlier, I replied in the affirmative.
She said she'd pick me up at 6 on Thursday evening to attend an actor's meeting because, of course, she was going to work there, as well. I explained that I had a vehicle and that I didn't need a ride, but she poo-pooed the idea, saying that it was silly for us to ride separately. Honestly, I think she was needing her popular girl fix as she had started college that fall and was finding she was a very, very small fish in a fairly average-sized pond. I acquiesced as it didn't matter that much to me. Besides that, she said she would pay for gas and my Dodge Ram used a lot of gas. So she was more than welcome to drive!
After rushing home from volleyball practice, which let out at 5, I prepared for the meeting. I was one of those girls who could not leave the house without full make-up on. It didn't matter if I was going to jog around the block or attend a formal dinner, I had the same make-up and hair. Perfect ... or as nearly so as I could get. This meant I had my routine down to a super fast, extra efficient one that took only minutes. Not bad for a full face of make-up and a head of curls! Needless to say, I was ready when Shelly pulled up a little after 5:30. I hopped in and we were off.
Twenty-five minutes later, we were sitting in a sunny spot on some dying grass that blanketed a slope near the haunted house listening to the owner of said house say things like "Hey GANG, ya' know what'd be REALLY cool?" and "You gotta be ENTHUSIASTIC! You gotta be ENERGY!" He was such an asshole.
Shelly sat there, completely entranced by what he was saying. He kept looking at her when he talked and, I swear I saw him wink at her. I guess now would be the time to talk about Shelly a little bit. She was a moderately attractive girl with a nose that was a bit too sharp and a tad long, a fairly plain face and an averaged sized body - except for her breasts. I mean, this girl was set up like a Gellotti and her cone had two extra big scoops. This made her very popular with men, especially older gentlemen who were married or going through their midlife crises. So, I wouldn't be surprised if the two had some sort of relationship going on, but I was never privy to that information.
In the middle of the owner's speech, three guys behind us started laughing. As the smart-assed comments floated from the back of the group, I couldn't help but snicker myself as the thoughts were mirroring my own. Midway through a comment, Shelly turned towards them and yelled "Shut up!" The whole group turned to stare at her and I ducked my head. "Bitch," was the reply. and I turned to look at them. There was a heavy-set blonde kid with a wide nose, a few patches of acne and a small puckered mouth. Next to him was a tall kid with long brown hair that could, if styled right, be mistaken for a mullet. The third was a smallish guy with dark hair and tanned skin. He was dressed well and really did not fit in with the other two, but they were obviously a group.
The meeting went on and, within 30 minutes, we were on our way to St. Joseph and Shelly's newest lover's apartment. As we pulled up in front of a really crumby house in South St. Joseph, I realized "his apartment" was a basement bedroom in his parents' house. His name was Tim and he was a fucking loser. He had a purple Monte Carlo SS and beaded plastic curtains as a door to his bathroom. The whole apartment smelled of pot and something rotten and all he wanted to do was make fart jokes and lear at naked women on his television.
After a couple of hours listening to he and Shelly fuck on the couch in the corner while talking to Tim's friend Bob, it was time to go. Thankfully, I got into Shelly's car and road home with her. Of course she filled my ears with tales of her new life and how great it all was. As we pulled into my driveway, she made a startling comment. "I'm in love with Bob," she said. I looked at her puzzled. What the fuck do I care? I said something about having a real problem and getting out of the car.
Two weeks later, we started working at the haunted house again. Shelly was still seeing Tim and talked about dumping him constantly. One night, she asked if I would take care of Bob for an evening so that she could have time alone with Tim to break it off. I agreed, thinking that we'd go out after work or something, because she had gotten the two of them jobs there, as well. That night, she drove but then asked Bob to drive me home. Not what I had in mind, but okay - I wasn't really that interested in the guy and he was a bit of an asshole, so off we went. On the way, he made a pit stop on King Hill. (For those of you unfamiliar, King Hill is the equivalent of "Lover's Lane" in all those stupid 50's movies.) I don't know what he was expecting, but I'll tell you he didn't get it! After 30 minutes of listening to him attempt small talk and generally bumbling around I asked if he could take me home. I think he must have been used to escorting girls who were into giving it up to his special brand of smoothness, but he didn't have anything I wanted and I wasn't attracted, so why the fuck would I bless him with anything? He said he would take me home, but first he needed to pick up a friend. We pulled up in front of a crumbling, decrepit apartment house where Bob honked his horn a few times and, to my surprise, out came the tall guy from the meeting a few weeks earlier. Hot on his tail was the short guy, also from the meeting. They both ran out to the rusty cream-colored van and jumped in the back.
"Where's tits," the short one said, looking at me. Bob told them Shelly was with Tim and we drove off. Soon, we were in front of Tim's house, Shelly's car was there and the lights were off. The tall one, I now knew him as Sean, shook his head as Bob and J.D., obviously the shorter one, ran to the door. He made some sort of comment about their stupidity that, at the time, really charmed me, but I couldn't remember now to save my soul. He obviously wasn't in to me very much, but I thought he was great. I think infatuation is the term I was looking for. He wasn't the smartest person in the world, but he wasn't a complete idiot, either. He was funny, marginally handsome and somewhat gentlemanly. Plus, he wasn't attracted to me at all, so I had to have him. Soon Shelly was tapping on my window and signaling that I should get in her car. I did, but a plan had already begun to hatch.
The next night at work, the owner of the haunted house moved me to the second area of the facility, a haunted ghost town, after I pointed out that there were no girls working out there and that he needed more female energy and a bunch of other shit. This moved me closer to my prey. I walked out to the ghost town and joined the group where Sean was standing he was talking to a kid who looked surprisingly like Robert Plant from The Cure, dreads and all, J.D. and the chubby Blonde, who later I found out to be named Bill. I soon found out that Bill was Sean's best friend. After about 30 minutes of preparation time, something that was spent smoking cigarettes and bullshitting, we were notified that it was time to start our work night. Sean, who had not said more than 10 words to me went his direction and I went mine ... but his friend was drawn to me like a bee to the brightest, most alluring flower in the garden. It probably didn't hurt that I was the only flower in the garden at the time, but after a few double entendres, and some smart-assed comments. I had him hooked. He swapped stations with another worker to be in my area, he gave me his Maglite for my lame dollar store flashlight and kept giving me cigarettes whenever I would reach for my own. But he was sooo totally not my type. Still, he was best friends with Sean and if you're family, you're family, right?
So, I got close with Bill and Bob and J.D. and therefore, I got close to Sean. I was one of the boys, but I had tits and lips and, if you looked at me in the right light, I was sorta pretty. I could cook and I could swear. I could make bombs out of gunpowder and Christmas bulbs. I was an excellent shoplifter and I was fairly open about sexuality. I cracked jokes and played tackle football with them in the park. Still, Sean was not interested ... But Bill was. Eventually, he asked me out and, having nearly given up on Sean, I agreed. Hey, as I always told my mother after her divorce, you don't have to like them, it's free dinner and a show. But it wasn't. It was an evening driving around St. Joseph looking for something to do. Eventually we stopped the car and just talked. Not very many people had ever asked much about me and I was soon telling him all about me. Everything he asked I answered and, for once, someone was genuinely interested in the words coming out of my mouth. Before I really knew what was happening, I was making out with this not very handsome scrub in the front seat of my truck. It was painfully apparent that he was a virgin and had probably not kissed very many girls. After some heavy petting and some more talk, I took him home and then left for Union Star.
When I came back over a couple days later, all of the guys were giving me shit about being Bill's girlfriend. SHIT! This was not supposed to happen. Still, he wasn't that bad and Sean wasn't available, obviously. So, that's how it goes that I became involved with Bill Glenwick and his fucked up family.
1995 - I Become a Doormat
Bill and I continued to be involved for the next several months, becoming closer and closer. Eventually I deflowered the boy, and have to say that, to this day, it was the best sex I ever had! I can't say that he was very proficient at it, he was actually quite a selfish lover, but for some reason it was just so damned exciting. He wasn't my first, but he was the most interesting in his experimentation and he was very strong.
But that was part of the downfall of our relationship, he was very strong, both physically and mentally. As he got older and his home life got more and more fucked up, he became more and more demanding ... and if he didn't get his way, he became loud and insulting. If he still didn't get his way, he became violent. The first time there was anything remiss, I walked out. Fuck him right? I don't need that shit. But two weeks of no one talking to me and having no social life made it very easy to forgive him as he cried on my back steps that early Saturday morning.
Following that incident, it was a good six months before anything happened again. His brother, the only one of the four Glenwick children to graduate from high school and the only one that had any hint of a future had been in a car accident and died. Bill came to my house to tell me and I started sobbing while he told me that his brother had been killed. I was very close to John. I loved him like, well, a friend, a brother and a lover. You see, at John's birthday party that year, Bill had decided to leave with a few of his friends, I suspect to go smoke pot. They were gone for several hours, and by the time they got back everyone else had left. John and I were sitting in Bill's room talking and all seemed normal. A few rumors floated around that we had slept together that night but none were substantiated.
A few days after John's death, a boy that had been a marginal friend of the group named Jason came to the family home to offer his condolences. He and Bill went outside to talk. After about 30 minutes, Bill asks me to come into the garage. I step out and then POP, right into my face above the nose a fist comes at me. I see Jason walk out the side door of the garage and we are alone. I scream out at him that I don't understand. He hits me on the shoulder, like a child throwing a tantrum. I fall on the floor. My nose bleeds. I cry. At that point, a kid we called Bucky came out, grabbed me and ran out the outside garage door. He walked me to his car, sat me inside and locked the doors. Bill came storming out. He ran for the car, but Bucky wouldn't let him near it. He then got inside and drove away. I can remember looking out the front window as we backed away and seeing Bill throw himself on the ground and start kicking his legs and pinioning his arms, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He rolled in the mud as the rain poured down. After a few blocks, Bucky stopped the car and turned to look at me. He was an odd boy with strawberry blonde hair and buck teeth, hence the name. He moved my hair and looked at me closely. He said something about it not being that bad and then he looked out the front of the car and said, did you sleep with John? I was taken aback by the question. "You don't have to tell me .. it's just that Jason said that you had ... and ..." it was here that he trailed off. Then he said, "It's okay if you did. Bill's been sleeping with Angel Heart for about three months now."
I was floored. I asked if that was what all of that was about. He said that Jason had said he saw me having sex with John. I was appalled. I didn't say anything else after that. He dropped me off at home and I went inside alone. I left Bill that nest day and we had a three month hiatus. I dated another boy, a bit of a loser who thought I was wonderful, but, by Halloween, Bill and I were back together.
This time Bill was different. He had now dropped all of his old friends and hung out exclusively with Jason. The two were inseparable and Bill's attitude had changed. He was no longer nice to me ... and my self esteem was completely gone by January of that year. Then, the unthinkable happened. Bill had done a lot of things to me. He had told me he didn't love me. He tried to run me over with his truck. He fucked around on me. He stole my money. But, one night, while hanging out and drinking beer with a few of his friends, I can remember sitting there one minute talking to his cousin, Joe, while we played cigarette chicken for money. The next minute I can remember being held down on the floor of the living room. The whole thing is very surreal and only flashes of the most demeaning portions of that event stick in my mind. They flitter past like confetti and I can only grab them for a second before the next bit falls down. I think the worst part of the whole thing is being forced to perform fellatio on Jason while someone, I think it's Bill, is going at it from behind. Then Jason grabs my head and twists it painfully up to look at him and says, "You aren't even keeping me hard, bitch." Then he smacks my face and jams my head down on his penis so hard I can't breathe.
I woke up the next morning laying on Joe's bed. I am bloody. I am bruised. I feel disgusting. Joe is sitting on the floor in front of the door and, when he sees me, he starts crying. He says he's sorry. That he didn't know. That he made them stop. He is crying like a little boy. A scared little boy.
I try to tell him it's okay, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Just little squeaks. I stand up painfully and touch the top of his head. I try to find my clothes amongst the sleeping people in the front room, but can only find pieces. I go into Joe's closet, take some clothes and start walking to Bill's house, where I had lived since being kicked out of my mother's house a few weeks earlier. Soon, Joe drove up and offered to take me there. I got in and he dropped me off at the curb. I walked inside and walked past his sister and her child, Bill's mother and his father. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. I locked the door and stared into my face. Who was this girl looking at me? My face had purple marks o it and the corner of my mouth was tore. There was cum in my hair and a chip in my tooth. I tell myself it's okay. I take a quick shower. I put on clothes and then I lie on the couch in Bill's room and I don't move. I just lie there with an empty hollow expression and try not to think. Soon, I hear the door open and then Bill's voice. Jackie, his sister, asks what happened to me. He tells her to shut up. She does. I lie there. I don't move.
A few days following, it was Valentine's Day, that was the day my best friend slept with Bill while I sat listening in the next room. I cried. I got beat up. A month later, it was my birthday. I paid to take everyone out to dinner and then my ankle was broken when Bill threw me down some stairs. Finally, a couple months after that, Bill took me to my senior prom, where I only got to stay 30 minutes before he made me leave to go to an after prom party, where I got the utter shit beaten out of me so badly I didn't recognize myself in the mirror. I woke up the next morning and a someone who had been there said, "I thought they killed you, but then I heard you breathing."
That was the end of it. I made him take me home and I never looked back. I graduated salutatorian of my class a few weeks later, with a black eye from that night still slightly visible, and had a full ride to the local college. I started seeing the hapless loser again. Things were starting to take hold. I was becoming something. I was putting who I was behind me. Bill left the state and I was free. I started to find me and I liked who I was.
But fate has a way of shitting in your bowl of happiness at the most inopportune moments.
BTW, I'm only up to age 18.
Reflections on last night's entry ...
I think the last entry really does give a sampling of where the girl you are getting ready to read about is coming from. As recycling said in this comment, these are not necessarily bad things done by a bad person, but they are the reasons I hate me. They are sources of guilt, pain, remorse and sorrow. They are the most undesirable parts of me.
Besides, I have not shared many of these things with anybody in any real detail and I feel that, in order to be a good writer, I need to explore emotions and thoughts that have not been explored in a very long time.
Tonight I'm sure my writing style will have changed as this entry is long winded and a bit more reflective. It's also something that I know my husband has suspected, but never knew for sure -- unless I told him while drunk and don't remember.
So, if you'll bare with me -
1994 - I Fall In Love
After Shelly, the popular girl from last night's entry, graduated in May 1994, we really didn't speak much. Strike that. We didn't speak at all. It was as if I didn't exist to her and I didn't really care. I had used her much as she had used me and that was that. Mutually parasitic relationships were par for the course in my world at the time and I didn't care if I ever saw her again.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from her one evening in mid September asking if I wanted to work at the haunted house again this year. She explained that she was working for the guy who owned the venture as a part time sales person / secretary and that he had asked if I was working there again so she offered to call me to find out. Having no other job and with no where to go following a messy arrest of Kevin a month earlier, I replied in the affirmative.
She said she'd pick me up at 6 on Thursday evening to attend an actor's meeting because, of course, she was going to work there, as well. I explained that I had a vehicle and that I didn't need a ride, but she poo-pooed the idea, saying that it was silly for us to ride separately. Honestly, I think she was needing her popular girl fix as she had started college that fall and was finding she was a very, very small fish in a fairly average-sized pond. I acquiesced as it didn't matter that much to me. Besides that, she said she would pay for gas and my Dodge Ram used a lot of gas. So she was more than welcome to drive!
After rushing home from volleyball practice, which let out at 5, I prepared for the meeting. I was one of those girls who could not leave the house without full make-up on. It didn't matter if I was going to jog around the block or attend a formal dinner, I had the same make-up and hair. Perfect ... or as nearly so as I could get. This meant I had my routine down to a super fast, extra efficient one that took only minutes. Not bad for a full face of make-up and a head of curls! Needless to say, I was ready when Shelly pulled up a little after 5:30. I hopped in and we were off.
Twenty-five minutes later, we were sitting in a sunny spot on some dying grass that blanketed a slope near the haunted house listening to the owner of said house say things like "Hey GANG, ya' know what'd be REALLY cool?" and "You gotta be ENTHUSIASTIC! You gotta be ENERGY!" He was such an asshole.
Shelly sat there, completely entranced by what he was saying. He kept looking at her when he talked and, I swear I saw him wink at her. I guess now would be the time to talk about Shelly a little bit. She was a moderately attractive girl with a nose that was a bit too sharp and a tad long, a fairly plain face and an averaged sized body - except for her breasts. I mean, this girl was set up like a Gellotti and her cone had two extra big scoops. This made her very popular with men, especially older gentlemen who were married or going through their midlife crises. So, I wouldn't be surprised if the two had some sort of relationship going on, but I was never privy to that information.
In the middle of the owner's speech, three guys behind us started laughing. As the smart-assed comments floated from the back of the group, I couldn't help but snicker myself as the thoughts were mirroring my own. Midway through a comment, Shelly turned towards them and yelled "Shut up!" The whole group turned to stare at her and I ducked my head. "Bitch," was the reply. and I turned to look at them. There was a heavy-set blonde kid with a wide nose, a few patches of acne and a small puckered mouth. Next to him was a tall kid with long brown hair that could, if styled right, be mistaken for a mullet. The third was a smallish guy with dark hair and tanned skin. He was dressed well and really did not fit in with the other two, but they were obviously a group.
The meeting went on and, within 30 minutes, we were on our way to St. Joseph and Shelly's newest lover's apartment. As we pulled up in front of a really crumby house in South St. Joseph, I realized "his apartment" was a basement bedroom in his parents' house. His name was Tim and he was a fucking loser. He had a purple Monte Carlo SS and beaded plastic curtains as a door to his bathroom. The whole apartment smelled of pot and something rotten and all he wanted to do was make fart jokes and lear at naked women on his television.
After a couple of hours listening to he and Shelly fuck on the couch in the corner while talking to Tim's friend Bob, it was time to go. Thankfully, I got into Shelly's car and road home with her. Of course she filled my ears with tales of her new life and how great it all was. As we pulled into my driveway, she made a startling comment. "I'm in love with Bob," she said. I looked at her puzzled. What the fuck do I care? I said something about having a real problem and getting out of the car.
Two weeks later, we started working at the haunted house again. Shelly was still seeing Tim and talked about dumping him constantly. One night, she asked if I would take care of Bob for an evening so that she could have time alone with Tim to break it off. I agreed, thinking that we'd go out after work or something, because she had gotten the two of them jobs there, as well. That night, she drove but then asked Bob to drive me home. Not what I had in mind, but okay - I wasn't really that interested in the guy and he was a bit of an asshole, so off we went. On the way, he made a pit stop on King Hill. (For those of you unfamiliar, King Hill is the equivalent of "Lover's Lane" in all those stupid 50's movies.) I don't know what he was expecting, but I'll tell you he didn't get it! After 30 minutes of listening to him attempt small talk and generally bumbling around I asked if he could take me home. I think he must have been used to escorting girls who were into giving it up to his special brand of smoothness, but he didn't have anything I wanted and I wasn't attracted, so why the fuck would I bless him with anything? He said he would take me home, but first he needed to pick up a friend. We pulled up in front of a crumbling, decrepit apartment house where Bob honked his horn a few times and, to my surprise, out came the tall guy from the meeting a few weeks earlier. Hot on his tail was the short guy, also from the meeting. They both ran out to the rusty cream-colored van and jumped in the back.
"Where's tits," the short one said, looking at me. Bob told them Shelly was with Tim and we drove off. Soon, we were in front of Tim's house, Shelly's car was there and the lights were off. The tall one, I now knew him as Sean, shook his head as Bob and J.D., obviously the shorter one, ran to the door. He made some sort of comment about their stupidity that, at the time, really charmed me, but I couldn't remember now to save my soul. He obviously wasn't in to me very much, but I thought he was great. I think infatuation is the term I was looking for. He wasn't the smartest person in the world, but he wasn't a complete idiot, either. He was funny, marginally handsome and somewhat gentlemanly. Plus, he wasn't attracted to me at all, so I had to have him. Soon Shelly was tapping on my window and signaling that I should get in her car. I did, but a plan had already begun to hatch.
The next night at work, the owner of the haunted house moved me to the second area of the facility, a haunted ghost town, after I pointed out that there were no girls working out there and that he needed more female energy and a bunch of other shit. This moved me closer to my prey. I walked out to the ghost town and joined the group where Sean was standing he was talking to a kid who looked surprisingly like Robert Plant from The Cure, dreads and all, J.D. and the chubby Blonde, who later I found out to be named Bill. I soon found out that Bill was Sean's best friend. After about 30 minutes of preparation time, something that was spent smoking cigarettes and bullshitting, we were notified that it was time to start our work night. Sean, who had not said more than 10 words to me went his direction and I went mine ... but his friend was drawn to me like a bee to the brightest, most alluring flower in the garden. It probably didn't hurt that I was the only flower in the garden at the time, but after a few double entendres, and some smart-assed comments. I had him hooked. He swapped stations with another worker to be in my area, he gave me his Maglite for my lame dollar store flashlight and kept giving me cigarettes whenever I would reach for my own. But he was sooo totally not my type. Still, he was best friends with Sean and if you're family, you're family, right?
So, I got close with Bill and Bob and J.D. and therefore, I got close to Sean. I was one of the boys, but I had tits and lips and, if you looked at me in the right light, I was sorta pretty. I could cook and I could swear. I could make bombs out of gunpowder and Christmas bulbs. I was an excellent shoplifter and I was fairly open about sexuality. I cracked jokes and played tackle football with them in the park. Still, Sean was not interested ... But Bill was. Eventually, he asked me out and, having nearly given up on Sean, I agreed. Hey, as I always told my mother after her divorce, you don't have to like them, it's free dinner and a show. But it wasn't. It was an evening driving around St. Joseph looking for something to do. Eventually we stopped the car and just talked. Not very many people had ever asked much about me and I was soon telling him all about me. Everything he asked I answered and, for once, someone was genuinely interested in the words coming out of my mouth. Before I really knew what was happening, I was making out with this not very handsome scrub in the front seat of my truck. It was painfully apparent that he was a virgin and had probably not kissed very many girls. After some heavy petting and some more talk, I took him home and then left for Union Star.
When I came back over a couple days later, all of the guys were giving me shit about being Bill's girlfriend. SHIT! This was not supposed to happen. Still, he wasn't that bad and Sean wasn't available, obviously. So, that's how it goes that I became involved with Bill Glenwick and his fucked up family.
1995 - I Become a Doormat
Bill and I continued to be involved for the next several months, becoming closer and closer. Eventually I deflowered the boy, and have to say that, to this day, it was the best sex I ever had! I can't say that he was very proficient at it, he was actually quite a selfish lover, but for some reason it was just so damned exciting. He wasn't my first, but he was the most interesting in his experimentation and he was very strong.
But that was part of the downfall of our relationship, he was very strong, both physically and mentally. As he got older and his home life got more and more fucked up, he became more and more demanding ... and if he didn't get his way, he became loud and insulting. If he still didn't get his way, he became violent. The first time there was anything remiss, I walked out. Fuck him right? I don't need that shit. But two weeks of no one talking to me and having no social life made it very easy to forgive him as he cried on my back steps that early Saturday morning.
Following that incident, it was a good six months before anything happened again. His brother, the only one of the four Glenwick children to graduate from high school and the only one that had any hint of a future had been in a car accident and died. Bill came to my house to tell me and I started sobbing while he told me that his brother had been killed. I was very close to John. I loved him like, well, a friend, a brother and a lover. You see, at John's birthday party that year, Bill had decided to leave with a few of his friends, I suspect to go smoke pot. They were gone for several hours, and by the time they got back everyone else had left. John and I were sitting in Bill's room talking and all seemed normal. A few rumors floated around that we had slept together that night but none were substantiated.
A few days after John's death, a boy that had been a marginal friend of the group named Jason came to the family home to offer his condolences. He and Bill went outside to talk. After about 30 minutes, Bill asks me to come into the garage. I step out and then POP, right into my face above the nose a fist comes at me. I see Jason walk out the side door of the garage and we are alone. I scream out at him that I don't understand. He hits me on the shoulder, like a child throwing a tantrum. I fall on the floor. My nose bleeds. I cry. At that point, a kid we called Bucky came out, grabbed me and ran out the outside garage door. He walked me to his car, sat me inside and locked the doors. Bill came storming out. He ran for the car, but Bucky wouldn't let him near it. He then got inside and drove away. I can remember looking out the front window as we backed away and seeing Bill throw himself on the ground and start kicking his legs and pinioning his arms, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He rolled in the mud as the rain poured down. After a few blocks, Bucky stopped the car and turned to look at me. He was an odd boy with strawberry blonde hair and buck teeth, hence the name. He moved my hair and looked at me closely. He said something about it not being that bad and then he looked out the front of the car and said, did you sleep with John? I was taken aback by the question. "You don't have to tell me .. it's just that Jason said that you had ... and ..." it was here that he trailed off. Then he said, "It's okay if you did. Bill's been sleeping with Angel Heart for about three months now."
I was floored. I asked if that was what all of that was about. He said that Jason had said he saw me having sex with John. I was appalled. I didn't say anything else after that. He dropped me off at home and I went inside alone. I left Bill that nest day and we had a three month hiatus. I dated another boy, a bit of a loser who thought I was wonderful, but, by Halloween, Bill and I were back together.
This time Bill was different. He had now dropped all of his old friends and hung out exclusively with Jason. The two were inseparable and Bill's attitude had changed. He was no longer nice to me ... and my self esteem was completely gone by January of that year. Then, the unthinkable happened. Bill had done a lot of things to me. He had told me he didn't love me. He tried to run me over with his truck. He fucked around on me. He stole my money. But, one night, while hanging out and drinking beer with a few of his friends, I can remember sitting there one minute talking to his cousin, Joe, while we played cigarette chicken for money. The next minute I can remember being held down on the floor of the living room. The whole thing is very surreal and only flashes of the most demeaning portions of that event stick in my mind. They flitter past like confetti and I can only grab them for a second before the next bit falls down. I think the worst part of the whole thing is being forced to perform fellatio on Jason while someone, I think it's Bill, is going at it from behind. Then Jason grabs my head and twists it painfully up to look at him and says, "You aren't even keeping me hard, bitch." Then he smacks my face and jams my head down on his penis so hard I can't breathe.
I woke up the next morning laying on Joe's bed. I am bloody. I am bruised. I feel disgusting. Joe is sitting on the floor in front of the door and, when he sees me, he starts crying. He says he's sorry. That he didn't know. That he made them stop. He is crying like a little boy. A scared little boy.
I try to tell him it's okay, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Just little squeaks. I stand up painfully and touch the top of his head. I try to find my clothes amongst the sleeping people in the front room, but can only find pieces. I go into Joe's closet, take some clothes and start walking to Bill's house, where I had lived since being kicked out of my mother's house a few weeks earlier. Soon, Joe drove up and offered to take me there. I got in and he dropped me off at the curb. I walked inside and walked past his sister and her child, Bill's mother and his father. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. I locked the door and stared into my face. Who was this girl looking at me? My face had purple marks o it and the corner of my mouth was tore. There was cum in my hair and a chip in my tooth. I tell myself it's okay. I take a quick shower. I put on clothes and then I lie on the couch in Bill's room and I don't move. I just lie there with an empty hollow expression and try not to think. Soon, I hear the door open and then Bill's voice. Jackie, his sister, asks what happened to me. He tells her to shut up. She does. I lie there. I don't move.
A few days following, it was Valentine's Day, that was the day my best friend slept with Bill while I sat listening in the next room. I cried. I got beat up. A month later, it was my birthday. I paid to take everyone out to dinner and then my ankle was broken when Bill threw me down some stairs. Finally, a couple months after that, Bill took me to my senior prom, where I only got to stay 30 minutes before he made me leave to go to an after prom party, where I got the utter shit beaten out of me so badly I didn't recognize myself in the mirror. I woke up the next morning and a someone who had been there said, "I thought they killed you, but then I heard you breathing."
That was the end of it. I made him take me home and I never looked back. I graduated salutatorian of my class a few weeks later, with a black eye from that night still slightly visible, and had a full ride to the local college. I started seeing the hapless loser again. Things were starting to take hold. I was becoming something. I was putting who I was behind me. Bill left the state and I was free. I started to find me and I liked who I was.
But fate has a way of shitting in your bowl of happiness at the most inopportune moments.
BTW, I'm only up to age 18.