seal you in. Night comes and you have the rules o f the grave,
different rules from daylight, they can do things at night,
everyone can, they can’t do in the day; they will break the door
down, no one here calls the police, I don’t have a gun, I have
one knife, a pathetic thing, I sleep with it under m y pillow. I
figure if someone’s right on top o f me I can split him apart
with it. I figure if he’s already on top o f me because I didn’t
hear him and didn’t see him because I was unconscious and I
wake up and he’s there I can stick it in him or I can cut his
throat. I figure it gives me time to come to, then I try for his
throat, but if I’m too late, if I can’t get it, i f he’s som ehow so I
can’t get his throat, then I can get his back. O r I can finish
m yself o ff i f there’s no other w ay; I think about it each time I
lie down to sleep, if I can do it, draw the knife across m y
throat, fast, I try to prepare m yself to do it, in m y mind I make
a vo w and I practice the stroke before I sleep. I think it’s better
to kill him but I just can’t bear them no longer, really, and it’s
unknown i f I could do it to me; so fast; but I keep practicing in
m y mind so if the time comes I w o n ’t even think. It would be
the right thing. I don’t really believe in hurting him or anyone.
I have the knife; I can’t stand to think about using it, what it
would be like, or going to jail for hurting him, I never wanted
to kill anybody and I’d do almost anything not to. I know the
men outside, they’re neighborhood, this block, they broke in
before, in daylight, smashed everything, took everything,
they ran riot in here, they tell me they’re coming to fuck me,
they say so out on the street, hanging on the stoop; they say so.
T h ey’ve broken in here before, that’s when I started sleeping
with the knife. Inside there’s too many hours to dawn; too
many hours o f dark to hold them off; they’ll get in; I know this
small world as well as they do, I know what they can do and
what they can’t do and once it’s night they can break the door
down and no one will stop them; and the police don’t come
here; you never see a cop here; there’s no w ay to keep them out
and m y blood’s running cold from the banging, from the noise
o f them, fists, knives, I don’t know what, sticks, I guess,
maybe baseball bats, the arsenal o f the streets. The telephone’s
worthless, they cut the wire when they broke in; but no one
would come. This is the loneliest I ever knew existed; now;
them banging. There’s things you learn, tricks; no one can
hurt me. I’m not some stupid piece o f shit. Y ou got a gang
outside, banging, making threats. They want to come in;
fuck. T h ey’ll kill me; fuck me dead or kill me after. It’s like
anything, you have to face what’s true, you don’t get to say if
you want to handle it or not, you handle it to stay alive. So
what’s it to me; if I can just get through it; minimum damage,
minimum pain, the goal o f all women all the time and it’s not
different now. If you’re ever attacked by a gang you have to
get the leader. If you get him, disable him, pull him away from
the others, kill him, render him harmless, the others are
nothing. If you miss him, attack him but miss, wound him,
irritate him, aggravate him, rile him, humiliate him without
taking him out, you are human waste, excreta. So it’s clear;
there’s one way. There’s him. I have to get him. if I can pull
him away from them, to me, I have a chance; a chance. I open
the door. I think if I grab him between the legs I’m in charge; if
I pull his thing. I learn the limits o f m y philosophy. Every
philosophy’s got them. I ain’t in charge. It’s fast. It’s simple. I
open the door. It’s a negotiation. The agreement is he comes
in, they stay out; he doesn’t bring the big knife he has in with
him; it stays outside; if I mess with him, he will hurt me with it
and turn me over to them; if anything bad happens to him or if
I don’t make him happy, he will turn me over to them. This is
consent, right? I opened the door myself. I picked him. I just
got to survive him; and tom orrow find a w ay out; away from
here. He comes in; he’s Pedro or Jo e or Juan; he swaggers,
touches everything, there’s not much left he notes with
humor; he wants me to cook him dinner; he finds m y knife; he
keeps it; he keeps saying what he’ll do to me with it; I cook; he
drinks; he eats; he keeps talking; he brags; he talks about the
gang, keeps threatening me, what he’ll do to me, what they’ll
do to me, aspects o f lovemaking the gang would also enjoy
and maybe he’ll just let them in now or there’s time after,
they’re waiting, right outside, maybe he’ll call them in but
they can come back tom orrow night too, there’s time, no need
to w orry, nice boys in the gang, a little rough but I’ll enjoy
them, w o n ’t I? Then he’s ready; he’s excited himself; he’s even
fingered him self and rubbed himself. Like the peace boys he
talks with his legs spread wide open, his fingers lightly
caressing his cock, the denim pulled tight, exerting its own
pressure. He goes to the bed and starts to undress and he runs
one hand through the hair on his chest and he holds the knife in
the other hand, he fingers the knife, he rubs his thumb over it
and he caresses it and he keeps talking, seductive talk about
how good he is and how good the knife is and I’m going to like
them both and he’s got a cross on a chain around his neck and it
glistens in his hair, it’s silver and his skin is tawny and his hair
on his chest is black and curly and thick and it shines and I’m
staring at it thinking it shouldn’t be there, the shiny cross, I am
having these highly moral thoughts against the blasphemy o f
the cross on his chest, I think it is w rong and concentrate on
the im m orality o f wearing it now, doing this, w hy does he
wear it, what does it mean, his shirt is o ff and his pants are
coming o ff and he is rapturous with the knife in his hand and I
look at the cross and I look at the knife and I think they are both
for me, he will hold the knife, maybe I can touch the cross, I
will try to touch it all through and maybe it will be something
or mean something or I w o n ’t feel so frightened, so alone in
this life now, and I think I will just touch it, and there’s him,
there’s the cross, there’s the knife, and I’m under them and I
don’t know, I will never remember, the hours are gone, blank,
a tunnel o f nothing, and I’m naked, the bell rings, it’s light
outside so it’s been five hours, six, there’s a knock on the door,
insistent knocking, he says don’t answer it, he says don’t
move, he holds the knife against me, just under m y skin, the
tip just under it, and I try to fight for m y life, I say it’s a friend
who expects me to be here and will not go away and I will have
to answer the doo
r and I w on’t say anything and I w on’t tell or
say anything bad, I will just go to the door to tell m y friend to
go away, to convince him everything’s fine, and someone’s
knocking and he has a deep voice and I don’t know what I will
do when I reach the door or who it is on the outside or what
will happen; but I’m hurt; dizzy; reeling; can’t feel anything
but some obscure pain somewhere next to me or across the
room and I don’t know what he’s done, I don’t look at any part
o f me, I cover m yself a little with a sheet, I pull it over me and I
don’t look down, I have trouble keeping m y head steady on
m y shoulders, I don’t know if I can walk from the bed to the
door, and I think I can open the door maybe and just keep
walking but I am barely covered at all and maybe the gang’s
outside and you can’t walk naked in a sheet, they’ll just hurt
you more; anyone will. I can’t remember and I can barely
carry m y head up and I have this one chance; because I can’t
have him do more; you see? I got up, I put something around
me, over me, a sheet or something, just held it together where
I could, and I took some steps and I kept whispering to the
man with the knife in m y bed that I would just get rid o f the
man at the door because he wouldn’t go away if I didn’t come
to the door and really I would just make him go aw ay and I
kept walking to the door to open it, not knowing if I would fall
or if the man in the bed would stick the knife in me before I got
there, or who was on the other side o f the door and what he
would do; would he run or laugh or walk away; or was it a
member o f the gang, wanting some. It was cool and clear and
light outside and it was a man I didn’t know except a little, a
big man, so tall, so big, such a big man, and I whispered to him
to help me, please help me, and I talked out loud that I couldn’t
come out now for breakfast like we had planned and I
whispered to say that I was hurt and that the man inside was a
leader o f a gang and I indicated the big knife on the w indow
ledge, out o f m y reach, a huge dagger, almost a sword, that I
had got the man to leave outside and I whispered that he was in
m y bed now with a knife and out loud I tried to say normal
things very loud but I was dizzy and I wasn’t sure I could keep
standing and the big man caught on quick and said normal
things loud, questions so I could answer them and didn’t have
to think o f new things because I’m shaking and I say the m an’s
in m y bed with a knife and please help me he was with a gang
and I don’t know where they are and maybe they’re around
and they’ll show up and it’s dangerous but please help me and
the big man strides in, he doesn’t take the big knife, I almost
die from fear but he just does it, I used m y chance and there’s
none left, he has long legs and they cover the distance to the
bed in a second and the man in m y bed is fumbling with the
knife and the big man, so big, with long legs, says I’m his; his
girl; his; this is an insult to him; an outrage to him; and the man
in the bed with the knife says nothing, he grovels, he sweats,
he asks forgiveness, he didn’t mean no harm, you know how it
is man; and hey they agree it’s just a misunderstanding and
they talk and the man in m y bed with the knife is sweating and
the man who saved me is known to be dangerous, he is
known, a known very serious man, a quiet man, a major man,
and he says he’s m y man and I’m his woman and he don’t want
me having no trouble with sniveling assholes and any insult he
throws makes the man in m y bed with the knife sweat more
and grovel more and the big man, the man with the long legs,
he speaks very soft, and he says that now the man in the bed
with the knife w ill leave and the man in the bed with the knife
fumbles to put his pants on and fumbles to put his shirt on and
fumbles to get his shoes on and the big man, the man with the
long legs, says quietly, politely, that nobody had ever better
mess with me anymore and the man who was in m y bed with
the knife says yeah and sure and please and thank you and I am
some kind o f prom queen, bedecked, bejeweled, crowned
princess, because the man with the long legs says I am his, and
Pedro or Juan or Jo e is obsequious and he says he is sorry and
he says he didn’t understand and he says he made a mistake and
they chat and I’m shaking bad, I’m there covered a little, I’m
shaking and I’m not really covered and I’m covered in sweat
and I’m trying not to fall down faint and I’m shaking so much
I’m nearly naked, I’m hurt, my head falls down and I see my
skin, all bruised anywhere you can see as if I turned blue or
someone painted me blue, and there’s blood on me but I can’t
look or keep m y eyes open, I’m just this side o f dead but I’m
holding on, I’m shaking but I got something covering me
somewhere and I’m just not quite dead, I’m keeping something covering me somewhere, and Pedro or Juan or Jo e
leaves, he leaves mumbling an apology to the big man and I’m
saying thank you to the big man with serious formality, quiet
and serious and concentrating, and I’m something that ain’t
fresh and new, I’m something that ain’t clean, and I don’t
know anything except he’s got to go now because I have to
curl up by m yself to die now, it’s time, I’m just going to put
m yself down on the bed, very careful, very slow, on m y side
with m y knees raised a little, curled up a little, and I’m going to
God, I am going to ask God to take me in now, I am going to
forgive Him and I am going to put aside all m y grudges against
Him for all what He did wrong and for all the pain I ever had or
saw and I am going to ask Him to take me away now from
here and to somewhere else where I don’t have to move ever
again, where I can be curled up a little and nothing hurts and
whatever hurts don’t have to m ove and that I don’t have to
wake up no more but the big man ain’t through and I say later
or tom orrow or come back and he says I have to pay m y debts
and he talks and he threatens and he has a deep voice and he is.
big and he has long arms and he isn’t leaving, he says, and he is
strong and he pulls me down and gets on top o f me and says I
owe him and he fucks me and I say God Y ou must stop him
now but God don’t stop him, God don’t have no problem
with this, God rides on the back o f the man and I see Him there
doing it and the man uses his teeth on me where men fuck and
G od ’s for him and I’m wondering w hy He likes people being
hurt and I’m past hating Him and past Him and I can’t beg
Him no more for respite or help or death and the big man has
his teeth between m y legs, inside me and on the flesh all
around, he’s biting, not a little, deep bites, he’s using his teeth
and biting into the lips o f m y labia and I’m thinking this is not
happening and
it is not possible and it is not true and I am
thinking it will stop soon because it must stop soon but it does
not stop soon because the man has fucked but it means nothing
to him except he had to do it so he did it but this is w hy he is
here, the real reason, this biting in this place, he is wanting to
do this other awful thing that is not like anything anyone ever
did before and I say this is not happening and even Y ou are not
so cruel to let this man do this and keep doing it and not
making him stop but the man has long arms and he’s driven, a
passionate man, and he holds me down and he has long legs
and he uses his arms and legs to keep me pinned down and he is
so big, so tall, he can have his face down there and still he
covers me to hold me down, m y shoulders, m y breasts; but
m y head twists back and forth, side to side, like some loose
head o f a doll screwed on wrong. He is cutting me open with
his teeth, he looks up at me, he bites more, he says lovers’
things, he is the great lover and he is going slow, with his
mouth, with his teeth, and then watching m y head try to
screw itself o ff m y neck; and he gets in a frenzy and there’s no
words for this because pain is littler and sweeter and someday
it ends but this doesn’t end, will not end, it will never end, it’s
dull, dirty, rusty knives cutting my labial lips or the edge o f a
rusty tin can and it’s inside me, his teeth reaching inside me
turning me inside out, the skin, he is pulling me open and he is
biting inside me and I’m thinking that pain is a river going
through me but there’s no words and pain isn’t a river, there’s
just one great scream past sound and my mind moves over, it
moves out o f m y head, I feel it escape, it runs away, it says no,
not this, no and it says you cannot but the man does and my
mind just fucking falls out o f my brains and I am past being
anything God can help anyway and He’s making the man
stronger, H e’s making the man happy, the man likes this, he is
liking this, and he is proud to be doing it so good like a good
Mercy Page 17
