Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“She started callin’ Aunt Huni and tellin’ her that I had been acting up, but she loved me so much, she made sure I could stay at the daycare. She brought up my dead mama, sayin’ maybe that’s why I’ve suddenly started lying a lot, ’cause the other kids had their real mama, and I didn’t. She put all these things out in the air so that if I ever got the courage to speak, it would look like I was lyin’, or out of my mind. Mind games and control. You ever have someone do that to you?”
“Oh, yeah. My grandpa told my mama that I was doing things I wasn’t. Lied and said the mental hospital called him to let him know I was caught smoking meth I had obtained from some visitor of another patient. He even said that I was havin’ sex with one of the mental patients there, too. Things to get my mama all upset and worried. None of that happened, but he’d built a damn good case all the same. Gaslighting. Manipulation. I’ve seen it all.”
“Yes, that’s exactly right. I used to wonder why this teacher, this woman, hated me so much, Kage. I knew I was Black, and some folks didn’t like that—my Aunt had prepared me for the real world, but for the most part I hadn’t experienced a lot of racism. Even now, at age thirty-seven, I still haven’t had a lot of situations where I can say without a doubt that I was racially profiled or discriminated against. Sure, things have happened to me, and I knew that was what it was, but this was my first time dealing with such a thing, and it was so, so, ugly… so strange, too. My little brain couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that this beautiful, tall woman that everyone loved, who spoke softly and appeared kind and good-hearted, could hate me for something I had no control over. We don’t choose our race, and even if we could, so what? What’s to hate? I find it so evil. It just didn’t make any sense.
“So, a year passed, and by then, I was emotionally bankrupt. I was cussin’ at people, Kage. Hitting my aunt. Talkin’ back to her. Tearing up toys and my room. Crying all the time. Runnin’ around acting like a devil.” She shook her head. “My aunt couldn’t figure out for the life of her what was going on. Then, the teacher started puttin’ me in this backroom as punishment when I wouldn’t do as I was told. Other kids had to go in this little room, too. It was like a big closet where they kept the mops, board games, tablecloths, and things like that. One day though, she came in that closet with me. She started… she started takin’ videos and pictures of me.
“…That’s why I was hesitant about putting security cameras on my property, Kage. I want the added security, but the ideal of being videoed 24/7, even if it’s just the outside perimeter, makes me uneasy, and it all stems from this. Something about the cameras being in my home seems like a violation. It’s illogical, not rational, I know that. I just have to get over it. Don’t worry though, I’m going to let you do it. Anyway, this particular day, she grabbed me, covered my mouth with tape, and started to beat the living daylights outta me.” A wave of anger swelled within her chest. “She pulled my little skirt down, made me stand there in just my panties, and she took a big red belt from around her waist, raised it high in the air, and beat me until my arms, legs and back were on fire! I had welts all over ’em.” She outstretched her arms. “She laughed the whole time she did it, Kage!”
Poet found herself trapped between insanity and despair. A crazy chuckle burgeoned from her throat, then she was fighting tears. “The more I struggled and tried to get away, the more pleasure she seemed to get from it. When she was finished, she was breathin’ heavy.”
“The teacher is dead now, right?”
She cocked her head to the side and peered at Kage. What a peculiar thing to say… His words sent chills up her spine. He must’ve sensed her uneasiness, for he cracked a slight smile. “I’m just hoping your aunt or somebody put a stop to this. Go on. Don’t mind me. What happened after she physically abused you?”
“She put her camera away, got me all dressed and cleaned up. Ordered me a pizza, and set me aside in a room where I could watch cartoons and eat, with an orange Coke. I remember the flavor of the drink ’cause orange was my favorite. To this day, I don’t drink orange Fanta anymore… Anyway, I kept sniffling. Cryin’. My little legs hurt so bad. I tried to eat the pizza, but because I kept cryin’, I threw up. She made me get on the floor and eat my vomit.”