TWT = The Writer’s Toolbox (a creative writing/inspiration spark for anyone.)
*This story is mostly unedited and I am typing straight from my notebook. It’s not the best.*
My grandfather lied to my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family. They were fighting again. It happens every night since their daughter, my mother, died. I don’t understand what the big deal is… My grandpa has been lying about his health, I know he is dying, but he doesn’t want grandma to know. They have been together for a long time. When my mother died, my grandpa was put in the hospital for a week. His heart is getting worse, it needs to work harder to pump his blood. It was by chance that I head that diagnosis. He told the doctor not to tell my grandmother. He doesn’t know that I heard everything. When I walked in to talk to him, he asked if I listened to the conversation. I lied and said I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t want him to worry about what I know or don’t know.
Grandma was yelling louder than normal. I could hear the words clearly.
“You are obviously not fine. You’re thinner and paler! How could you say that you are okay!?”
“Calm down, our granddaughter is downstairs… she can hear you..” His voice was quiet and shaky.
“She has a right to know! You and I are her guardians now. You should not lie to all of us that care about you!” A loud thud hit the ceiling of the basement, and I ran upstairs feeling worried.
“Um..” They stared at me.
“What?” I snapped the silence with a harsh tone then left the room.
On the following Friday, we packed our bags and planned our escape. My boyfriend and I are running away together. He knows my life story, and all of the troubles. I came up with the plan to leave one day and he snapped his fingers and helped make it happen. We headed South of Detroit. It was large and suffocating, and eventually we would hit something new and refreshing. A place where we could both start new. We didn’t know what was out there, but we did know that Detroit was getting to our heads. My boyfriend had a job, and he was older too. He worked in a corporate office with my mother. It was a ridiculous job and too much happened there. After I proposed my idea to leave my boyfriend started spitting out words.
“I met this guy while on my way to work… He was crazy, so crazy… but what he said to me made so much sense. ‘If you don’t take chances,’ said the guy-he was wearing stripped pajamas by the way- ‘If you don’t take chances, you might as well not be alive.’ That’s what he said.” He breathed with excitement. “But, baby, when you came up to me with this run-away proposal, it was a chance that I… We, need to take.”
Here we are, taking advice from a guy in stripped pajamas. We followed his words. This decision is chance at a new life for the both of us. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to leave the home. My boyfriend told me of his troubles, he said he wanted to leave as well and has been saving up for a while. He just has been waiting for a good time to leave and I guess when I suggested leaving, it was the perfect time for him. Men, they were all the same, I decided. They never really decide for themselves and I know I don’t love him anymore, not like I used to. He used to be amazing and sweet, but I never knew he was saving money. I never knew he was planning on leaving. It makes me think that one day I would wake up and he’d be gone. This feeling I have makes me lose faith in him and our relationship. It started out too weak anyway. He is using me to get out and not to be alone, and I am using him for a place to stay and I just don’t have a car. I could never leave by myself and that’s why I told him in the first place. I have no one else to talk too, I have no job, no reliable friends or money. I just have this backpack full of clothes and this man I call my boyfriend. I can’t do anything without him right now. I’d be nowhere if it weren’t for him. My love for him was pointless. I started to lose my faith in him when his friends were over. I started thinking about their actions, especially when I saw his best friend Herb defrost the refrigerator. His friends were strange and I never got what the deal was with Herb. I didn’t like them. That day, they were doing drugs. My boyfriend was excluded because of his work and their random drug testing. They were also gamblers and alcoholics.
That night, they were drinking, everyone was apart from myself. I was underage and not looking for some fun. I spent most of my time at his apartment because my house was uncomfortable, it was one of the perks of dating an older man. These guys have been friends since high school, they’ve never grown apart. He acts different around his friends and I don’t understand why he purposely avoids me when they are around. He is no longer the guy I know. Every time I get to know him more, he becomes someone different. This night was different than every other night they were over. They seemed a little more rowdy and a little more clingy. His friends clung to me while my boyfriends eyes clung to the video game.
“Babe, could you come here.” I would ask a lot. He wouldn’t really listen.
“I’m busy hun, hang out with the guys. They are fun, I’m sure you’ll like to play some games with them.” He jerked his hands up with the controller. “They are my friends.” He put emphasis on ‘my’ which means I have no choice.
His friends crowded around me and started to touch my and cling to me. It was uncomfortable and my boyfriend wouldn’t even notice.
“Hey…” Herb slurred his words in my face. “You are too pretty to date him, date me instead.”
I shook my head and pulled away from him but he grabbed my arm and snaked his hand around my waist.
“Hey!” He wobbled. “Don’ walk away from me when I am talking to you.” He brought his face to my cheek and sniffed. He hummed and then walked towards the couch.
His friends held me down as he grabbed a wireless headset and handed it to my boyfriend. “These make you feel like you are in the game, wear them!” He yelled.
“Dude, thanks.” He put them on. “They are awesome. See babe, they are great people. Thinking of others.” He turned back to the game without even looking in this direction. He’s an admirable boyfriend, not.
Herb comes back and starts ripping at my clothes. His eyes were hungry and his friends help to keep me quiet. They all touched and kissed my body. I cried and held back my screams. That night, I remember watching the rusty weather-vane outside the window spinning rapidly. The storm outside rumbled and pieces of it flew off to hit the window. The thing slammed against the window every so often and I hoped it would break the glass so my boyfriend could look back here and see what was happening before his eyes. It never happened, instead the thing broke and fell off. Leaving the music and my whimpering. What was worse, they guys that were raping me took turns. They didn’t have anything but their hands to use as a gag so they for a pencil and tied it to my face and I was forced to bite down on the stick. The chewed-on pencil was weak already. I tried not to bite down on it, for fear of jabbing the broken wood into my mouth. I had to stifle my screams and cries so I could slowly go along with this torture. Each guys thrust made me want to bite harder, but reluctantly I resisted and tried to scream. Neither worked. It was like, this chewed pencil was like my body and if I bite down, I break my own body. My body must remain unbreakable. My mind must remain stable and firm. This will just be nothing. The thing that got to me most at that time was the smell of this guys T-shirt. It was the smell of the T-shirt from the time he went to the B-52’s concert with my boyfriend. They had the strange taste in music, and they didn’t understand anything. The smell was grotesque and it filled my nostrils as they slammed into me. It made me want to puke but, I was unable to. The smell was mixed with sweat and sex, which made it intolerable. Of course my boyfriend didn’t notice. He can’t smell anything. He can’t even notice anything.
The memory faded and another one came to mind as we set foot into a hotel. It was the day when my mother took me to her work. She was talking with him, the idiot who works at corporate is what I always thought. That guy would always hit on my mother, every time I came in with her, he’d be hitting on her straight away. Until one day, my mother was in a meeting and I was wandering around. He took me somewhere and fed me a bunch of bullshit lines that made my heart melt. Every time, he’d feed me these sweet words, then he would fuck me and take out his sexual frustration out on me. I didn’t know what it meant at the time. It was messed up.
“Amanda,” He would grunt and tell me how amazing my legs were. I know he was thinking of my mother. I was her daughter and I guess fucking this guy was one way to be wild and free. I just wanted to be free from everything, including myself. I think it’s really funny that he knew my name from my mother. I never once told him my name, he never told me his, I learned from his name tag.
The memories faded and I stared into his face. He doesn’t know me at all, and I don’t know him. We are just two people who fucked. I was raped by his friends, and he doesn’t know or probably care. He’d say it was in the past. What an idiot. I left the room and entered this bar down the street. I saw a bunch of women enter earlier and I followed later on. It was a strip club and it was step two to becoming a wild and free woman. I got the application and left to head home.
“Where were you?” He asked.
I shrugged. “You know what’s funny, you never told me your name.” He stared at me and the application from the bar that was in my bag of clothes. He stared at me walking out of the room and leaving his side. He never ran after.