“Who you?”
Brittany blinked at the cheeky question from a pretty little girl with a toffee-colored complexion and braided hair. Brittany might’ve corrected the child’s language if a surge of irritation and fatigue wasn’t wearing her down. Besides, the child was blocking Brittany’s entrance into her mother’s house.
“I’m Brittany,” she gritted, glaring at the little girl.
Suspicion entered the child’s dark eyes.
“Patrona, who’s that?”
Brittany heard her mother’s voice, somewhat gravelly, still quite intimidating.
“A girl, Ma. She say her name be Brittany.”
“Brittany, huh? It’s okay. Let her in.”
The latch was opened on the screen door and Brittany picked up her duffle bags. It shouldn’t have bothered her the girl had no idea she was Cora’s real daughter, a fact of which her mother seemed to keep hidden.
Patrona stepped aside and Brittany struggled with her luggage. By the time she completed her tasks, her mother was sitting on a rocking chair, the other children Cora fostered gathered around her. Patrona’s suspicion had turned into a scowl.
Brittany ignored the child. She drew in a deep breath and smiled at her mother. “Hi, Mama.”
“Bryson called and said you left. Wanted to visit me.”
“Y-yes. I haven’t seen you in two years and—”
“If you think you can come here to escape the chores Bryson gave you, think again. He said you have money.”
“Yes. And of course I’ll contribute. I’m going to look for a job. I was thinking about taking a year off from school and trying to decide what I want to do.”
Cora eyed Brittany. “I need help here, gal. First things first. I want whatever money you have. You being here is gonna take extra utilities, food, everything.” She held out her hand. “Before you go a step farther, give it up.”
Ignoring Patrona’s snicker, Brittany fumbled with the zipper on her purse then pulled out the money she had put in an inside pocket. She hadn’t put the cash Bryson had given her in her wallet with the other money from Trey. At least something was in her favor, she thought ruefully. If her mother had seen the four twenties Brittany had left from what Trey had given to her, Cora would’ve wanted that too.
Brittany’s heart sank as her mother snatched the money from her hand and counted.
“Is that all, Mama?” she asked with as much equanimity as possible. “I’m really tired. I’m going to save my things in my room.”
“You’re going to share the room with Patrona, Tameka and Danita.” Cora indicated each girl with a nod.
Patrona, the one who seemed the oldest, narrowed her eyes. Tameka looked to be eight or nine and Danita couldn’t have been more than five.
“Put your things away and don’t take too long. I’m taking Patrona to have her nails done. Since you’re here, you can watch the little ones.”
The “little ones” included two boys, the toddler and the other one somewhere between five and seven.
“I thought maybe I could talk to you, Mama.” During the plane ride, Brittany had done her best to avoid all thoughts of Trey and the way he’d pushed her out of his life. He’d let her and their relationship go so easily, as if she hadn’t mattered one bit to him. She’d been just another notch on his belt.
“We don’t need to talk. Bryson told me all about you disrespecting his house and sleeping with Treyshaun then just up and leaving. Shouldn’t have started something you couldn’t finish.”
Not responding, Brittany picked up her bags and rushed past her mother and the children.
Reaching her old room, she found it bathed in light from the globes on the whirring ceiling fan. It was much the same as she’d left it two years ago. The old wrought iron, full-sized bed with a faded pink comforter and the white walls with the paint peeling in one corner dominated the room. The scarred desk with the sturdy wooden chair still held the same nineteen-inch television Bryson had bought Brittany four years ago.
This was the room where her world had been shattered. The memories haunting her hit with full force and she buried her head in her hands.
Falling to the ground, Brittany shuddered, the cold wood slapping against her backside and reverberating through her body. A sob escaped her and that entire, painful night flooded back.
✽ ✽ ✽
Torn between solving some difficult math problems and watching her favorite football team during a Monday night game, Brittany scowled at the sound of the doorbell. Figures someone would come around at a pivotal moment in the game with three minutes left on the clock.
Dressed only in a little orange nightie with lace straps, she went to the door and peeked out through the glass. Seeing Karl standing there, she opened the door, not even thinking about taking a moment to find a robe. She wanted to get back to the game. Besides, she’d known Karl all her life.
“Hey, Brit,” he said when she opened the door.
“They’re not here,” she called over her shoulder as he entered the house. “They’re at the game. I thought you had a ticket too.”
Breathless with anticipation over the game’s outcome, she didn’t wait for Karl’s answer. Rushing back to her bedroom, she just assumed Karl would find something to eat, flip on the television in the living room and wait for Bryson to return. Perhaps Trey would still be with Bryson too. At the moment, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. Her disappointment Trey cancelled his plans to watch the game with her had dissipated hours ago.
“Brittany.”
Though surprised to find Karl had followed her, Brittany thought nothing of it. Her attention was focused on the TV and praying for her team to win. Praying, too, she could figure out the frigging geometry problem.
“I think there’s a beer in the fridge,” she said absently.
Suddenly his hands were on her, grabbing handfuls of her long hair and twisting her around. Brittany cried out, stunned by the pain in her head.
“Trey fuck you yet?”
His voice was low and mean; menace chilled the light-brown eyes she’d always thought so pretty.
“You’re crazy! Let go of me!” she demanded, struggling against his brutal grip. Drawing in air to scream, Brittany wondered if any of her neighbors would hear her. She prayed Bryson would return home. Her mother was working at her second job and wouldn’t be home ‘til morning.
The beginning of a scream built up but died a quick death when he breathed against her ear.
“I wouldn’t if I was you.”
“What—?” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Her thoughts were falling all over one another. “Stop. Please.”
He laughed, pressing his erection against her. “You got my cousin hot to fuck you.”
“Don’t do this. Please.” Tears were bubbling to the surface. Like Trey and Bryson, Karl was tall, his body overflowing with muscles from all the weightlifting.
He ignored her cries, pushing her to her knees, the cold, hardwood floor pressing against her delicate skin and the bones in her knees. Before she could say anything else, plead with him again, he was unzipping his pants and shoving his manhood into her mouth.
She gagged, her natural reflex against something so foreign invading her. He twisted her hair harder and began pumping hard and fast, until the back of her throat hurt and her lips ached. Until his seed spurted down her throat. He held her head in place a moment longer before wrenching her to her feet, still using her hair to maneuver her.
“Trey likes a woman to suck his cock. I see how much you enjoy giving head. He taught you well.”
Brittany was trembling now, praying this was a crazy nightmare. Karl hadn’t forced her to perform oral sex on him. Karl was Bryson’s friend and Trey’s cousin, the son of his father’s brother. He was so good. So even-tempered. So spiritual.
“You’re his whore. You have his nose wide open. You gave it to Trey, you can give it to me,” he said, his eyes glazing over, his penis jerking to life once again.
She acted then, roused from her stupor at the feel of his growing erection. She swiped her nails across his face, pushing hard against him, infusing that single chance to escape with all the anger and humiliation in her.
For one blessed moment, she was free, throwing him off-balance and surprising him. She made it almost to her bedroom door before he grabbed hold of her hair again. She fought but to no avail. Using his brute strength, he picked her up and threw her on the bed. Pinning her down, despite her wild fighting, he entered her with a vicious thrust, impaling himself deep inside her body. She screamed, pain and agony slicing through her.
“I bet you get wet for Trey. You think Trey better than me? You can’t get wet for me?”
At any moment, she thought she’d faint. He was tearing her in two. Tremors seized her legs, shock spreading through her veins.
“I want you wet.”
She didn’t know what he meant. She’d throw water all over herself if he’d only stop.
“Flaunting your ass in those little shorts,” he grunted, each word punctuated by a brutal heave into her.
Her hands were pinned over her head, her trembling legs stretched wide. She listened to his filthy rant, willing her mind to disconnect from her body. He exploded inside her then moved to her side, panting and sweating, and she curled into a ball. Long minutes later, he pushed her onto her stomach, spread her legs and took her from behind, destroying forever the Brittany she had been. After he came inside her again, he didn’t pause to catch his breath. He dragged her to her feet and gazed at her with cold disgust. Blood was on her sheets and dripping down her legs, mixing with his seed.
Standing was painful, walking even more so. She was bleeding and she didn’t know what to do.
She looked up at Karl, her mouth trembling.
“Go take a shower while I clean up the mess you made in here.”
Unable to move, she stared at him without blinking.
“Go, Brittany,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you.”
She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She was afraid her insides would fall out.
He wrapped his big hands around her neck and squeezed ever so slightly. “Your choice. Go. Take. A. Shower. Or—” He punctuated the unspoken insinuation by exerting a little more pressure to her throat.
“Sh-shower,” she whispered, her voice foreign and distant and hollow.
He let her go and she tripped forward to the bathroom. When she returned to her room, her sheets were changed and he was lounging on her desk chair and laughing at something on TV.
“I’m still bleeding.”
At her quiet, frightened words, his gaze founds hers and his eyes narrowed. He shot out of his chair like a bow from an arrow. “You crazy or something? Why the hell you took a shower with your nightgown on?”
Not only was her nightie still on but her hair was plastered to her head and face. She was dripping water all over the floor.
He tore the gown from her body with one hard yank and she flinched. She was completely naked now, she thought dimly as he jammed two fingers inside her sore and aching body.
He brushed his lips against hers. “You ever tell anyone about us making love and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” he breathed, wrapping his hands around her throat again and squeezing. “I’ll kill you. Maybe I should kill you anyway.” He tightened his hold and cut off her air. “Save Trey’s soul.”
Her eyes remained wide and unblinking, his words barely penetrating her shock and lack of oxygen.
He removed his hands and stars danced in front of Brittany’s eyes.
“Do you love me? I love you.”
Bending, Karl bit down on her nipple and she swayed. She’d thought she was incapable of feeling any additional pain. Hot tears burned her cheeks as he bit her other nipple then sucked her breasts, marking her skin. He raised his head.
“I asked if you love me?” he snarled, shaking her.
“Y-yes.”
“Say the words to me. Tell me what you tell Trey to have him so hot for you.”
Not knowing what words to say, she let out a desperate sob. She’d never told Trey anything.
“Tell me how much you love me.”
“I love you.”
“You don’t love anyone like you love me, do you?”
“N-no. I don’t love anyone like I love you,” she repeated around another sob.
He slanted his mouth over hers but she kept her lips shut. With a growl, he slapped her across her cheek.
“Open your fucking mouth.”
She complied and he stuck his tongue inside. Her stomach turned and she fought not to throw up. His thumb found a spot between her legs that was sending painful sensations through her being. She grabbed hold of his arms to anchor herself and he continued with his humiliating touch.
She was hurting and sore and swollen and still bleeding but whatever he was doing to her made her gasp, half in pleasure and half in pain, until something broke inside her and a feeling so powerful claimed her she went limp in his arms. Not understanding anything.
This time, when he took her he slid into her easier. She was damp between her legs and slick with blood. But he kept kissing her, kept forcing his tongue into her mouth. When he found his release inside her, he contemplated strangling her again by wrapping his hands around her throat.
“Pl-please,” she managed.
He smirked at her but released her and departed, and left her a broken shell of the happy sixteen-year-old she had been. She’d become emotionless.
For the next two days, she didn’t go to school. She didn’t even show her face. She heard Bryson and Trey. And Karl. But she was in so much pain, physically and emotionally. And though the blood had slowed to a trickle she still bled from Karl’s violent invasion.
She thought of telling Trey but she was so ashamed by all Karl’s humiliation, she couldn’t even open up to Trey. If she told Bryson, he’d murder Karl. She thought of going to Trey’s mother but Karl was her dead husband’s beloved nephew. Although they lived four doors apart, Brittany barely knew Mrs. Wilson. The woman might not believe Brittany, even though the evidence was there between her legs. In her pain and her blood.
Stephanie, her health and physical education teacher, who happened to be her best friend’s sister and the cheerleading coach, stopped by. Brittany had never missed a single day of high school and she’d told the woman a half-truth. Stephanie was only a year or two older than Brittany’s brother and she suspected the teacher was crushing on him.
She told Miss Peterson she’d slept with a boy for the first time and the bleeding still hadn’t stopped. The flow had nearly stopped, trickling at a bare minimum, but it wasn’t normal. She begged and pleaded with Stephanie not to tell Bryson or Trey, and Stephanie agreed, if Brittany went to the ER. She was torn and bruised and needed stitches. The nurses asked her all kinds of questions, including asking point-blank if she’d been sexually assaulted. She said she hadn’t been but they looked at her with suspicion. They requested the clothes she’d been wearing when she’d been on her date, asked for a very detailed history about any abuse or assault and looked over her with a strange light. They took tests to check for STDs. Brittany didn’t care if they believed her or not. She stuck to the story she told. Karl hadn’t beaten her, so they couldn’t prove it hadn’t been consensual sex. From her story, even the bruising around her neck was done with her consent.
“You mean autoerotic asphyxia?” Stephanie asked, appalled.
Brittany didn’t know the term. She’d just remembered a newspaper article about the practice. She nodded. “Yes.”
No longer able to meet their gazes, she turned away. Soon after, they released her with prescriptions for a pain medicine and an antibiotic for a urinary tract infection.
Ironically her class had just begun to learn about birth control in health class and she frantically tried to remember how the rhythm method worked and desperately awaited the arrival of her period.
For three weeks, she managed to avoid Bryson, Trey and Karl. But one evening—a Monday of all days—they were all home when she arrived from school to start preparing dinner.
Karl was sitting with Bryson and Trey as if he hadn’t destroyed her. Overwhelmed, she rushed to the bathroom and threw up then burst into tears, convinced she’d conceived Karl’s baby. The next day, she got off the bus two stops past her house and went to the drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. It was negative and she shook with her relief. Another two and half weeks passed before cramping heralded the arrival of her cycle.
Somehow she managed to pretend everything was fine, keeping her secret closely guarded. She pretended she was out, as much as possible, keeping her room in total darkness and sleeping with the covers over her head, curled up in her closet.
No one noticed. Not even Trey. She started utilizing the lock on the knob of her bedroom door. The second morning she missed school, Trey urged her to unlock the door. She refused. Trey threatened to break down her door. Panicked, she asked him to give her a moment. Making sure her hair covered the bruise on her cheek, she unlocked the door and let him in. She managed to fool Trey by keeping her head averted, her words brief as he grilled her as if she were a suspect in an interrogation room. If anyone would know something was wrong with her, it was Trey. He was her best friend in the entire world. Closer to her than Jamie. Closer than any of the other girls on the cheerleading squad.
He would know.
✽ ✽ ✽
Brittany sobbed into her hands. She’d managed to fool Trey and he’d gone away, and for the next three weeks, she’d evaded him. She’d found ways to cope and she’d survived and she’d graduated from high school and gone off to college.
Everything had been fine. She’d somehow kept her senses numb by pretending she didn’t care. That she wasn’t hurt to her very soul. That she wasn’t angry enough to want to kill Karl.
He’d stolen her spirit that night, but then Trey had come back into her life and made her feel again. Hope again. Live again.
Now he was gone, their relationship forever altered, her spirit once again shattered. Brittany didn’t know how she’d ever reclaim it.
Or if she even wanted to.