Rarely, He would sound so proud, “When we picked you up the lights and sirens were blaring and Cop surrounded them and helped me take you away from there.” Their Cop shoulder is broad and strong beneath starched and pressed uniform fabric. Cop holds me securely with repect to my injuries, no errant hand or finger is released to probe my cunt or anus. High upon his breast, i have no fear of being dropped, broken, beaten. There are no crosses here to witness another sacrifice upon.
“Where did you take me to, then?” I ask, while a red memory returns with orange and brown details. In a motel room with a dirty comforter and a cold yellow bathroom. Its dangerous there, but the blue on the TV is socializing as he leaves me alone and afraid of him ever coming back. After having used me very like the others did, done in the first and second years of my life, I knew nothing but this way to belong them. The others he had come to with Cop overwhelming their away with me then.
On a bridge low over a little river i am taken up in his arms with a pretty younger mother. They are married now and i am their little prize for sharing. The little river below echoes mother’s ranting faith that her abuse of me would be a fair compromise before the eyes of her Lord. In happy Disney’s world, her God still echoes, warnings of what these people mean to symbolize. Goofy idols and living dolls stay safe in behind thick fuzzy costumerry. She is already like a friend to me. Her chain is this, a yellow gold and when she holds me, close and free, i tangle my fingers in it and snap the links. Her eyes go wild in fear of the loss that never comes to blows or fits of rage. And no one seems to care for that broken status symbol either way, i find it ten years later stashed in her mostly empty jewelry box and search out her makeup instead. I am carried away from that bridge and never return.
His watery eyes flash red and acknowledged that memory of his pleasure taken with Cop’s blessing. “We took you to my parent’s house, don’t you remember? That first night we spent in motel nearby. Then we went back to Florida and I picked up little Debbie and we went up to my parents house in Maryland. We lived there, for about a year or a couple months,” i don’t know, but recall how they were assembled. There standing like furniture, a presentation of someone else’s idea of a family room.
They wait, witholding their fleshy hands from me. A Black happy dog is brutally attendant in his excitement, at greeting me his twelve in. tail first whips the metal railing. Each new, “thwack!” a promise for my face, still at the level of his tail. No one picks me up and one does feel that this dog should beat my baby face with its metal hardened tail. That would teach me about being a member of this family. I wait in pain not yet realized. They restrain the black dog with hands thick in fear of the pain they remember from this morning. They part the sea of sick men and bent women who only dare to lightly pet my thickly padded shoulder. They all would come to know me as their own family whore. I would belong there among the sick men and bent women. Not all would pet me like the bony fluffy cat that drooled at the slightest touch. Some would have it on the laps and clinging desperately to the steeply sloped shoulders. Others would only acknowledge the thing it was and the shame it brought to care so little for another’s life.
“They and we put you in the spare room off grandma’s bedroom. “ Then i woke from a dream of being brought up and held again securely in their loving embrace, as i rolled off the high bed in the dark hallway room only once. Hitting hard on the thinly padded carpet. In the morning there was a fat spread of farm foods. I explored the master’s bedroom, pretending rejection of silk sheets and impractically cream colored comfortable pillow covers and duvets. I marveled at the luxurious excessive surfaces soft with a china doll nestled in with her eyes opened between so many different pillows dressing the bed. In the bathroom, my grandpa met me. Only, at first, mocking my impertinent snooping and i knew i should fear being caught there again. But i remembered how the stooped window women cowed his name and felt that in the night in my hall room he would have me however he liked no matter for the parentage or my presumption of a safe space.
Sonny was ignoring me now, as he rambled away through his pleasurable professional ascent. Emerald golf courses and well set tees were blanketing my recollection with divots replaced by carts and drunken idiots at play in the sun. “until I could find an apartment and that job with that guy’s firm I worked at so miserably until I started my own business.” So failing to that memory, I recal slipping on icy wet cowgirl boots in the flourescent hallway with a heavy door and a metal elevator to his high rise release. She is desperate to catch me before i fall to crying at the pain. She is afraid of the sound of my pain and his anger. She is not like the others. who used to like to hear my crying wails until the mother made me into silence. I remember standing by her side as she cried crumpled on the island carpet floor. Comforting with my dollsized hands her thin neck and bony shoulder as she reviled my touch and the sick display of perversion that he terrorzed her with. A sea of hard laminate surrounding us and he is recommending that we play a noisy game before us. But i don’t like how she and i jump with real fear when the, Operation dummies boundaries are pressed against. Only incidentally in an effort to remove the plastic body part he never seems to need returned to him. I think that if we just dont replace the plastic organ, then she won’t have to fear his anger anymore, when i can’t retreive it with my clumsy little hands without such a scary failure as that buzzing. That must be why she cant stand my soothing dollsized hands touching her as i do try to help her feel better about what others do to us inside.