m&ms: Torn Up Panties

Late 1980’s: My babysitter’s 17 year old son has a weird stare that my innocent 9 year old eyes do not understand. Times are difficult. Mom comes home to a messy house, and a torn up marriage. She is always in a bad mood picking up behind us. Now, there is always food in the fridge, and we have money to buy from the ice cream truck. We watch lots of cartoons, especially on weekends and in the summer because this neighborhood is ghetto, and fill with violence and drug abuse. Mom has restricted us to go outside; it is dangerous. Sometimes, I try to make breakfast for my little sisters. Brenda is now 6yrs old, and Iris is 5. We pretty much get along, except when we fight for the type of cereal we want. I get out a large Tupperware salad bowl (the extra large one). I pour out 3/4’s of a large Lucky Charms, and a liter and half of Pasteurized Milk. I put three metal medium size serving spoons, and voilà! Other day’s we improvise some pancakes. Brenda and Iris get the batter ready while I heat the pan. The fighting begins when Brenda tries to copy Donald Duck’s flip the pancake in high mid air. We all try, and fail. Ten minutes later, there are more than six semi-raw pancakes stuck to the top of the kitchen ceiling! Mom’s gonna be mad, but we keep it quiet.

There are people in and out of our lives and house. My uncles stay to live in time gaps of 4 to 6 months. My dad is constantly sending money to Mexico. He sends three vehicles within 5 years. Weekends are always a blast. Our garage has taken a second purpose: a bar and party room. Every weekend brings music, dancing, alcohol, and friends. Along with that, physical and verbal abuse. Dad is worst every time. Mom looks tire, angry, and sad. Her skin is so light that bruising is inevitable. She has a friend at work, that has invited her several time to her house. Mom says she is Christian. We are too. I guess. Well, on Sundays’ we go to Mass, and buy churros. Plus, I barely did my First Communion.

He…[babysitter’s son] has been coming over during her work hours more often. She’s gone to run errands, and has asked him to keep and eye on us. I have a weird feeling in the gut of my stomach. Something does not feel right. I wished mom was here. Brenda and Iris are asleep. I am sitting on the sofa working on homework. He sits next to and asks what I am doing. Suddenly, he draws closer to me. My heart is pounding. I am confuse by his actions. I don’t know what to do! He sweeps his juvenile hand down my long black hair down to my lower back. I pull away softly. My heart is pounding harder. He forcebly gets my body closer to his, and motions me to stay silent. I don’t know why I am frozen. Why am I not running away? Somebody help me please. His hands are now exploring the inside of my dress. I remember that my panties are torn. He tugs on my panties. He knows I am scare. He tries one more time to touch even more. I gasp with terror. He places his warm hand over my lips, and whispers a moan into my ear. What is he doing? I don’t understand. Someone is HERE! Thank God! He tells me to say nothing or he would deny it all. I run into the bathroom. I sob secretly, and I am terrified to come out. Mommy, where are you? [sob]. What happened? Help!

Mom has to work late and dad never came home. I cry myself to sleep. This was neither the first nor the last of this monstrous act. The others were worst for they were my relatives. Still, I said nothing. A peculiar fear had overtaken my life. I trusted no one. Not my friends, not my cousins, not my uncles, not even my own father. Stupid torn up panties. Torn up life. Torn up heart.

New Year’s comes along quick. It’s been months since the first incident, and since I got my first period. Mom and dad have been fighting more and more. The New Year’s party was a great success. I guess. That morning Dad makes me pick up all the glass beer bottles, and put the in a plastic bag. He is still drunk. They are fighting. He hits my mom so hard that she lands on the floor. Her forehead is bleeding.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Charis
    Jun 26, 2008 @ 19:37:43

    😦 I’m so sorry kingsview
    The Lord wants to heal all those memories.
    HE loves you ever so much.
    Ask Him, “where were you, Jesus, when that happened?”

    Reply

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