Stripping Asjiah I (3 page)

I should’ve stayed there and asked her what was I supposed to do when my uncle used to come over and beat on my brother? What was I supposed to do when he would pound his face to a bloody pulp? Aside from nursing his wounds, putting ice on his black eyes, cleaning his cuts, or telling him to tilt his head back so his nose would stop bleeding, I was helpless. I thought if I tried to intervene, tried to help him, my uncle would beat me too so I did nothing. The sound of his screams still haunt me to this day. I should’ve asked her if that’s the proper way to “discipline” a child.

Maybe I should’ve asked her if it’s okay that my brother’s girlfriend’s mother is a crack head so she doesn’t care if he’s banging her 15 year old daughter. He needed somewhere to stay to get away from the abuse and she needed someone to help her get high so fair exchange isn’t robbery right?

I used to keep Angel’s window unlocked so he could come back in when he had nowhere else to go. Those are the nights I waited for. Nights when he would climb through the window like spider man carrying a bottle of Green Apple Boone’s Farm and we’d sit, watch cartoons and reminisce about the old days.

My grandmother didn’t say anything when we got in the car. I’m sure my expression said it all. I wanted to reach across the backseat and punch her in her fucking head. Here we were trying to cope with a traumatic experience and she took us to see a head doctor. Had we talked to her she probably would’ve prescribed all these antidepressants and other medications to put us on but I wasn’t about to take anybody’s pills. That’s all I need is to be walking around here like some doped up zombie.

I didn’t need someone to sit across from me with a notebook nodding their head saying it’ll be okay because that’s bullshit. Nor did I need someone lying to me, I could’ve done that myself free of charge.

What I needed was someone to keep it one hundred and tell me that some days I won’t be able to breathe, that sometimes I’ll think I see her, smell her, hear her voice, but it will all be an illusion. I needed someone to tell me that I may even contemplate suicide because the pain will be too much to bear, but of course no one had the balls to do that so they continue to feed me this bullshit.

My grandmother has treated us like aliens ever since we moved here, like we asked for all of this to happen. They boxed up all our

Stripping Asjiah

things; statues and paintings that my father brought back from Korea, Italy, Japan, and Germany, tossed it all in a fucking box and moved us half way across the world. I felt like she could’ve fought a little harder to make sure all of our things were brought here with us instead of being left to rot in some storage facility. All of our pictures, my mother’s jewelry, her clothes, handbags, where was all of that stuff at now? The entire situation was mishandled but no one seems to care because it wasn’t happening to them. We were left with nothing. Life as we knew it was over.

I can’t remember her sitting down and talking to us about how we were feeling, asking us if there was anything she could do, or trying to make sure we were okay. Instead she got foster kids who she treats better than her own family. She didn’t even come visit us while we were in California so I don’t know how I expected living with her to be any different. It took my mother dying for her to finally come out there and she acts as if it was an inconvenience.

I would’ve thought that by me being a girl she would’ve tried to comfort me the most but instead she looked at me like I’m the one who killed her. I’m a constant reminder of my father, his mirror image, a reflection of the man who killed her daughter and she hates me for it. I get straight A’s in school, I’m editor of the newspaper, I play sports, I don’t do drugs, yet all of that means nothing because I’m my father’s twin and every time she looks at me she sees him. Is that my fault?

She locks me in this house and treats me as if I’m a prisoner. I can barely walk down the street to the store. Hell, I just got off punishment yesterday for sneaking out of the house to be with CJ. I had to wake up at the crack of fucking dawn and clean the house from top to bottom for two months straight. Wash the dishes, feed her Rugrats, let my dog out, feed him, bleach and sweep the basement, and do any other miscellaneous shit she could come up with. She even had me clean the washer and dryer! Who does that? How the fuck do you clean the washer and dryer?

But like I said; it’s bullshit. And for the record, the pain doesn’t go away. If anything it intensifies. One day you have the perfect family and the next your dad is being carted off to jail while your mother is being buried. That really fucks with your head as a little kid. You never get used to it.

Instead you find a way to deal with it and your method of coping may fuck you up even more. For example, I’ve been telling lies since all this shit happened. I tell my teachers my parents can’t attend my conferences because they’re out of town on business. I tell my friends my mom is overseas with my dad in Italy and me and my brother are staying with my grandmother. I’ve learned how to lie so well I sometimes confuse the stories I tell with my own reality. I know it sounds crazy but it’s easier to live in the world I’ve created in my mind verses the hell I’ve been thrown into. Keeping up this constant façade is hard work, I just want it to be over, and sometimes I just want to die…

“For homework I want you to read chapter 7 starting with Caesar’s decline and be ready to discuss it during class tomorrow.” Mrs. Jefferson put down the chalk and sat back down at her desk.

The shuffle of book bags and pieces of paper filled the room as the students pushed their chairs in and began exiting the classroom.
“Asjiah! A’! Hello…are you in there?” Keyshia grabbed her book bag and walked towards the door.
“Earth to Asjiah.”
“Huh?” I looked up to find most of the kids had already left the classroom.
“Didn’t you hear the bell ring?” Keyshia stood in the doorway flirting with the boys as they walked by. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just zoned out for a second.” Adjusting my baby doll dress I got up from the cramped desk.
“What do you write in there anyway?”

I closed my journal and grabbed my books placing my paper on Mrs. Jefferson’s desk before walking out the classroom. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Are you sure you’re okay A’? You seem a little distracted.” “Yeah, I’m just a little tired.”

I wanted to talk to her, to vent and let her know what had been going on but I decided not to. Once people know everything about you they look at you differently, like you have a sticker on your forehead that says “fragile, handle with care” and I don’t need that. I wasn’t in the mood for her pity.

“I’ll get with you later.” I closed my locker and headed towards the gym so I could change for cheer leading practice.

ChApTER TWO

From the moment Cash saw his niece walking up the street he had ill intentions. Puberty had blessed her at the ripe young age of 14 and every day he watched as her adolescent body transformed into that of a woman. Her once skinny frame had filled out perfectly in the form of a curvaceous 17 year old. Her cup size had to be around a 32C. A tight small waist gave way to a perfect round, apple-shaped ass. His lust for her was insatiable, undeniable, often he would find himself fantasizing of what it would be like to wrap his hands in her long black curls while he bent her over and fucked her from the back. Many nights he beat his dick to the thought of what it would feel like to part her thick, cream colored thighs as he slid into her pussy. What did she taste like? He wanted her to love him, for her to look up at him with admiration in her eyes while his body intermingled with hers. She had such pretty blue eyes. The same blue eyes that stared at his sister as her life slipped away. As she came closer to the house he grew anxious, all these years of wanting, waiting, it would all soon come to an end.

ASJIAH
“What’s good A’?”

Looking at this nigga I knew he was drunk. If I didn’t smell the liquor on his breath, the empty bottles of Bacardi Gold that lay sprawled out around his feet were a dead give away. I threw my book bag over my shoulder and shifted my weight to the other foot.

“What’s going on?” I rolled my eyes at him and walked up the porch stairs to unlock the door. I turned around and paused staring at him through the screen; “Look, grandma ain’t here so come back later.” I didn’t want to believe it but he was staring at my thighs like he was sizing me up or something.

“Wait up A’, I don’t have my cell on me. Can I make a quick call so my boy can come pick me up?”
CASH

Cash was popped but he didn’t want to miss his opportunity to get her alone. He had been sitting out in this heat practically cooking for the past four hours waiting for her to come home from practice. He knew his mother wasn’t home; he had her schedule down to a science. It would be ten o’clock before she came back. That would give him plenty of time to get familiar with his stunningly attractive niece.

There was just something about Asjiah that turned him on. In his mind, he thought deep inside she felt the same way about him but needed him to show her that he felt the same. He would let nothing stop him.

ASJIAH
“How’d you get here?” Can’t you walk up the street and use the pay phone?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve done that? Look, this my mother’s house. You’re just a guest. Who are you to tell me I can’t come inside to use the phone. You don’t pay no bills here. Just let me in to make the call. Damn, I don’t what’s so hard about it.”

“I’m not trying to be disrespectful. It’s just that you’ve been drinking.” “So what? I’m a grown ass man. You don’t need to concern yourself with all that. Are you going to let me in or what?”

I watched him almost lose his footing as he stumbled up the stairs. I knew it was pointless to argue with a wine head so I let him in the house. I thought that as my uncle I could trust him to be alone in the house with me despite him being drunk. I thought that our family ties would keep me safe. I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my entire life.

CASH

Right, left, right, left. Cash was hypnotized by the way her basketball shorts clung to her butt as she turned and opened the door. He could barely walk straight but his eyes worked perfectly fine as he stared at her panty line and tried to guess what kind of underwear she was wearing. He could feel himself harden with the thought of fucking her. He knew it was wrong, but felt that God wanted him to do it otherwise why would he find his own flesh and blood sexually attractive.

They were alone. Together. This was it. He had this one chance to make his dream come true. This was meant to be.
ASJIAH

Walking into the kitchen with Cash trailing behind me, I glanced at the clock. 6:45 p.m. Practice had run a little late today and CJ would be here at 7:30 to take me to dinner. I still had to shower so he needed to hurry up and leave. Being around Cash always made me uneasy. It was something about the way he looked at me; he would always find reasons to touch my hair, rub my cheek, or hug me. At first I thought it was okay, I mean he is my uncle, but the older I got the creepier it became. He would make comments on my clothes, tell me that my skirt was too short, or that my jeans hugged me too tight, he wasn’t my father so why did he give a shit? I caught him staring at my ass a few times but I always brushed it off because he was drunk.

“There’s the phone, make it quick cause I got somewhere to go.” I opened the door in the hallway leading upstairs to my room and tossed my book bag on the steps.
“Ca…” I almost screamed as I turned around to find him staring me dead in my face.
“You are so fucking pretty. The older you get the more you look like your mother.”
Biting down on his bottom lip, Cash leaned on the railing for support as he walked up the stairs.
“You’re just a lighter sexier version with blue eyes.”

What the fuck was this nigga talking about? Did he just admit to having a thing for my mother, his sister? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was my uncle. How could he even look at me in that way? We were family.

“You had to come up here to tell me that?” I tried to side step him and get back downstairs but he wouldn’t move. I cocked my head to the side and gave him the “nigga get out of my way look” but he wasn’t budging. “Excuse me.”

I could smell the liquor on his breath and I knew from the glazed crazy look in his eyes he was lit. He reached out to try and touch my hair but I backed further up the stairs. I could see where this was going. I hoped that someone would come and stop him before this went to far.

“Didn’t you say you had to use the phone?”

“Nah, I got some other things that I need to take care of first.” Cash grabbed his dick as he anticipated his next move. “I bet all those lil’ niggas at your school be sniffing all up yo ass. You ain’t shit but a dick tease. You need to let me show you what a man can do.”

I felt sick, like I was going to throw up at any minute. All these different scenarios began to run through my head and I thought I would know what to do in this situation; kick him in his shit and run; but I didn’t. I stood frozen, scared, and frightened. If I screamed would anyone hear me? It was like some shit you see on one of those after school specials on Lifetime. This wasn’t happening to me. This was some type of joke right? It had to be. It felt like my heart stopped beating as he began to slide his hands across my breasts and although I couldn’t control it, my nipples became hard.