the gift

1993

friday night, 12:09am:
"here, you finish it. i hate when it gets down to the very end." i hand the last of the joint to amelia and finish off the rest of my rum and coke. she walks me to the door and we hug our drunken goodbyes.

3:47am
the ringing of the telephone slices deeply into my sleep.

"....hello?"

"it happened", the flat voice on the other end of the line whispers.

"amelia? what the he...what happened?"

"my ex-boyfriend, the one i told you was stalking me. he raped me tonight. he must have waited for you to leave." her voice sounds offhanded.

"what?! holy shit amelia! i'll be right down."

"no. don't bother. the police were already here. they took me to the er. i told the cops it was him, that he'd been calling, threatening....they went to his apartment. know what they found? over a hundred pictures of me, all over his walls. he admitted to it....i had to have six stitches because...did i tell you he stuck a knife in me? down there?" she asks casually.

"FUCK amelia! how did i sleep through all that? my windows are wide open! i don't underst..."

"when i called, i asked them not to use their sirens. i was embarassed... neve?"

i struggle to find a voice, "yes?"

i wish you hadn't left."

agonizing guilt burns my soul, leaving it's mark.
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thursday morning, 9:07am:
"i'm pregnant. it's his, from that night. i'm not having it", she tells me abruptly.

"shit, ok. what can i do? do you want me to drive you, or sho..."

she cuts me off mid-sentence, "no. i'm going to planned parenthood tomorrow morning and they're going to give me ru-486, that will get rid of it. i can walk, i want to go alone."

i don't want to be pushy, so i say goodbye and hang up the phone. but a question tickles the back of my mind, as lightly as a butterfly's wings. i brush it away.
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friday morning, 11:31am
"planned parenthood, may i help you?" the voice on the other end inquires.

"um, yeah. my friend amelia is there, getting the morning after pill. she said she was going to walk home, but i want to come pick her up. is she ready?"

"ma'am, we are not allowed to give out private information, but i can tell you that we don't give out ru-486. nobody does, it's not even legal in the u.s. yet."

feeling confused, i thank her and hang up. amelia must have gotten mixed up somehow.

she comes down later, looking pale.

"i'm bleeding. they said i would for a few days, until it's all over."

slowly, a horrible thought snakes it's way from my head to the pit of my stomach. it curls up and settles in.

"you mean you went to planned parenthood today? for that pill?"

"yeah, i just got back."
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monday morning, 8:36am
"bloomington police department, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"um, hi. i live at 330 washington and i heard there was a rape here last week. did you catch the guy?"

"ma'am, there have been no sexual assaults in that area. none at all."

i suddenly feel very cold.
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monday morning, 8:51am
"st. joseph's hospital, emergency department. how may i direct your call?"

"hi. i'm calling from lighthouse recovery center. one of our clients came back late from a pass last friday and said she'd been raped. i'm calling to verify. her name is amelia woodhouse."

"no rapes have come through here in over a month. and it looks like amelia hasn't been here since last october, for eye surgery."

numbly, i hang up.

the first time i met amelia, she'd been wearing gauze over her left eye.

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2011
monday afternoon, 3:36pm

"hey neve! remember me? it's amelia, from bloomington. it's been forever, right?"

gently, i click on 'not now'.

because 17 years later i am gifted with the understanding that her lies had been crafted to arouse the most base of emotions. shock. fear. anger. guilt. shame.

she then feasted on these emotions, fattening herself until she believed she was invincible.

she would have to look elsewhere for her next meal.
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this was a prompt from the red dress club, to write about a middle of the night phone call from a person in my past. i chose to switch it up a bit, and switch facebook for the phone call and have the middle of the night phone call happen in the past.

because that's how it really happened.

beautiful/dirty/sexy/tease

This week's prompt was to write about a treasure that was stolen from you or your character, and what you did about it.
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*warning* the following post is extremely graphic and discusses child sexual abuse in detail. if this is an issue for you, now's the time to jump off the train. i'm serious.

and if any creeps are reading this hoping to get off, i hope you die tonight.

ok.

1971~
my parents are going out to dinner, and they ask our next-door neighbor to babysit me. he insists that i call him *grandpa* al. i already have a grandpa but i like to please.

because my life is already fucked up and i don't need any more problems.

i wake up. my pink flannel nightgown is shoved up to my neck, my knees are spread apart and my underpants are around my ankles. the dog is licking my.....wait. we don't have a dog. i look down at my privates and scream.

*grandpa* al is eating me alive, he must be a zombie. i scream and i scream and none of his shushing shushes me. i'm hysterical and i won't shut up.

because *grandpa* al is performing oral sex on me.

i am four years old.

he pulls up my underpants and tugs down my nightgown. he tells me he came into my bedroom because i was having a nightmare. he says i shouldn't tell my parents about my nightmare, because they'll think i'm a dirty girl.

this begins what will be 8 years of constant sexual abuse, at the hands of my parents trusted neighbor, *grandpa* al.

because once i turn 12, *grandpa* al is no longer interested. i am far too old for him.

he comes over to our trailer at least 2-3 times a week. he eats my mother's cooking and gives my parents gifts on their anniversary and on holidays. he becomes their best friend.

he always wears a motherfucking tie to our trailer. so i can sit on his lap and tie it while my mother cooks, or does the dishes. while she works, he sticks his finger in my vagina and wiggles it around.

he's the reason i know how to tie a tie.

he offers to watch me after school. he gets out styrofoam plates, plastic spoons and coffee mate powder. he pours a pile on each of our plates and we have a tea party. then he undresses me and makes me perform oral sex on him.

i am 5 years old.

he and his wife (oh yes, he's married) own a traveling trailer that they park in the trailer court. many times he takes the key and leads me to the trailer. inside, it is cramped and musty, and in the cupboard are styrofoam plates and cups, plastic spoons and coffee mate creamer. he makes me do a striptease for him while he pretends to be a customer. he calls me a "cocktease" and i'm confused. the word sounds bad but his voice makes it sound good. he gives me a dollar but takes it back before we leave the trailer.

to this day i fucking refuse to eat or drink from styrofoam and i WILL NOT use powdered coffee mate.

i am 6 years old.

he likes it when i strip for him, he pushes my hand down so i can feel his cock. it's stiff and hard and that scares me. i don't understand how something can be soft and squishy and then change it's form. i'm afraid of it, afraid of him. and i'm confused. he says he loves me, and that i'm beautiful. he says i'm sexy, and that my "titties" are so lovely. he sucks on them, and i don't understand why.

to this day, i abhor the word "titties" and refuse to let it be used in my presence. my ex-husband used to love this word. he called chicken breasts "chicken titties", even though he knew why i detested that word.

i am 7 years old.

i become dependent on his "love" for me, the kind words and lack of beatings. i knock on his door one rainy afternoon and his religious zealot of a wife answers the door. her name is leona and she dyes her hair jet black. she doesn't give gifts at christmas and refuses to hand out candy at halloween, saying it's the devil's holiday. she says everybody is going to hell and that god hates us because we're sinners.

i ask if *grandpa* al can come out and play, and she says he cannot because he's in his underwear. i innocently say "that's ok, i've seen him in his underwear before", not realizing that's not normal. she slams the door in my face, and i wonder why she is so angry.

i am 8 years old.

he comes over for dinner one night, we are having spaghetti and meat sauce. while my mother is in the bathroom, he leans over our table and asks me if i've told my parents any of our secrets, and i promise i haven't. he tells me that i'd better not, because if i do, my parents will know that i'm a bad girl who does bad things and they'll stop loving me, and i believe him.

 to this day, i still believe him.

he tells me that everything he does to me is my fault, because i'm so sexy, and such a tease. then he tells me that nobody will ever believe me, and that they will lock me up for being a liar and a bad girl. my mother comes back from the bathroom. i look down at my plate and pray she doesn't know i'm a bad girl.

i am 9 years old.

we are in the travel trailer. he is wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and i am naked. he tells me that he will be sad when i start getting my period, because then we will have to stop being sexy. then he lays me down on the bed and tries to penetrate me with his penis, but he can't. i scream and cry and he promises he won't do it again. i bleed a little that night and i wonder if i'm getting my period. i pray that i am.

i am 10 years old.

he comes by less and less. on the one hand i am glad, because i really don't like what he does to my body. on the other hand, i wonder if i have done something wrong, something to make him angry at me. this only feeds into my desire to please at all costs.

i am 11 years old.

we are alone in my living room, and my mother is outside grilling hamburgers. there is nobody to stop him, and yet he doesn't move toward me. i stand next to him and ask if he is angry at me. he says "no", but doesn't look at me. i am uncertain, because for 7 years i have been described in terms such as "sexy" and "tease" and and "beautiful" and "dirty". in fact, i often get "beautiful" and "dirty" confused in my mind.

what am i now? how do i define myself, and how did i become unloveable?

i am 12 years old.

i spend the next 30 years searching for the answer without truly knowing the question.