boys. The knocking goes on and on. I don’t dare move. We
wait for it to stop. I say maybe I should see who it is. He says
don’t you move girl, don’t you fucking move. The knocking
stops. He says, now you get over here girl. The knocking starts
again. A deep male voice calls me by name. Oh, I say, it is
someone I know, if I don’t answer he will be worried and do
something, but I can go to the door and tell him to go away.
You do that, says Joe real quiet. You better get him away girl.
You better do that. Or I gonna get you good girl. You ain’t
keeping my boys and me out girl. I promise, I say, I will make
him go away. I promise I won’t say anything. The knocking
continues. I see the knife, I see the cross, I see the hairs on his
naked chest. OK girl you got two minutes then you be here. I
walk toward the door. It is a long, slow walk and I am afraid.
I open the door. It is W, someone N and I know only slightly, a
dealer, a tall, thin, dignified black man: very tall. I step just
slightly outside the door and whisper please help me: I point to
the dagger on the window ledge: I say there’s a man in there I
can’t get out he forced his way in please help me I beg you. I will
take care of it, he says with enormous quiet conviction. He walks
in. Joe is there undressed, on the mattress, the knife in his hand
on his belly. W says, what’s this I hear you fucking junkie you
trying to take my woman from me, I’m gonna fucking kill you.
He says this very quietly but with a deep resonance in his voice.
Joe begins to shake. Hey man I didn’t know she was your girl
man hey I didn’t mean you no shit man. He fumbles with his pants.
He fumbles with his shirt. He starts sweating bad. Hey man if I
know she was your girl man hey I wouldn’t touch man it was just
a joke man. W says, don’t I know you from somewhere man? Joe
says, yeah man, I buy some smack from you but times is hard
man. W says well you come to see me man if you need anything
but I don’t want my woman here bothered. You understand, W
says with quiet seriousness and authority, this is my woman. You
treat her with respect man you understand she belongs to me.
Hey man I didn’t mean nothing by it man.
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Joe fumbles and sweats. They talk smack. Joe is sloppy and
scared, W is austere and serious. W shows Joe to the door.
Then he comes back.
I thank him. It isn’t enough. He tears into me. He bites my
clitoris and bites it and bites it until I wish I was dead. He
fucks. He bites my clitoris more, over and over, for hours, I
want to die. The pain is shooting through my brain. I am
chewed and bitten and maimed. I am bleeding. He leaves. I
hurt so bad I can’t even crawl. He leaves the front door wide
open.
*
From now on N and I never sleep at the same time: one of us
is always awake with a knife in her hand. We lie down on the
narrow mattress together, never alone, and one sleeps and one
stays awake, knife in hand, knife clutched, ready to use. She
sleeps a few hours, I listen to every sound: knife in my hand.
The sweat is cold now always: no matter how the summer
heat boils and steams and hangs like fire in the air. I sleep a
few hours, wake up in a cold sweat, always to find her wide
awake, eyes wide open, alert, watching the room: anything
moves, it dies. I count on her. I count on the knife. I think I
can use it on myself, if there are too many of them.
*
We know they will come back. I knew Joe would turn me over
to the others when he was done that night or some other. We
know we can’t keep them out. They know. We wait. We don’t
sleep very much at all.
*
I am staggeringly hurt: body and mind.
*
N and I are inside, sitting on the mattress. She is writing in her
notebook. I am staring at the wall. I can walk now. There is a
knock on the door. It is W. He is invited in. I don’t talk. I sit.
N sits. He stands, very tall, then sits. He brings out some grass.
He is soft-spoken and courteous. He rolls a joint. We smoke.
He and N exchange pleasantries. We smoke. I don’t talk. He
speaks directly to me. I stare. I haven’t been talking much but now
I don’t talk at all. He saved me. I can’t think of anything to
say. I think I say thank you. We smoke. My body is slowly
getting numb, hard to move, nearly immobile. Each arm, each
70
leg, is very heavy, like a ton of wet sand. I can’t move. I don’t
talk. We smoke. They talk. They talk about witchcraft, the
occult, drugs. I don’t follow it. He talks to her. I hear it. He
excludes me but refers to me. He talks only to her. You young
women need my protection. I could come here once or twice a
week, get you young women a real bed, you shouldn’t be
sleeping on this mattress on the floor, so you really both sleep
here do you? and you and I could have some real fun with
her, we can do things of real depth, different things, unusual
things that call on deep energies, there are many things you
and I could do with her. I don’t look at him but I know I am
her. I can’t talk. I can’t move. My brain is some dead slug.
Everything is heavy, like a ton of wet sand. My muscles don’t
move. My legs don’t work. I remember crawling after he
chewed me up, and the pain. We could do many things with
her, he says, and there are mysteries we could discover together,
she is the perfect instrument for us to discover these mysteries,
she is so pliant, there are so many subtleties. He talks about a
big bed, and I think he wants to watch N hurt me: he is saying
they will do it to me, he is saying he will give us regular money
every week, he is talking about a big bed and tying me up, I
can’t feel anything but the pain between my legs hanging somewhere in the center of my dead brain: telling me to run, run: but I can barely move: I concentrate every living ounce of will
and energy on moving, one leg at a time, the other leg, slowly,
to get up. It takes nearly forever. I stand up. My mouth moves.
A sound comes out, loud. No. It sounds like a whisper. I walk,
a ton of wet sand inching along a desert, into the kitchen,
collapsing on the table. N says: you heard her. He says he will
leave the grass and come back some other time. The offer still
holds. N can call him anytime. But he will come back anyway.
She should think about it.