by Sa'id Salaam
When the extraordinarily pretty baby was finally born, Kathy was perplexed. She mentally ran the golden little face against the legions of men who stopped by to visit her vagina.
The baby’s ‘good hair’ eliminated all of the nappy head locals and cleared most of the jail staff. She squinted and turned sideways at the baby trying to figure out who fathered it.
She surmised that it must have been put in her by one of the ‘Mexicans’. The baby had a beautiful golden hue to its skin, hair and eyes; it had to have been conceived in the fields. The timing was right, so it just had to be.
“Tywanna,” she smiled down naming the sleeping infant. She chose that name because it sounded Mexican to her. Mexican is of course, the language Mexicans speak.
Maybe if Kathy had gotten to spend more time with her baby, their story would have turned out to be different, but no such luck. This is Dope Girl and it’s going to be gritty.
Deacon and Mrs. Johnson were of course on hand for the birth of their only grandchild. They were so upset and regretful at the outcome of their own child. This little baby represented another chance. Another shot to get it right.
They often wondered where they’d gone wrong with their daughter. It was often the subject of regret and remorse. The answer was nothing, they did nothing wrong. Society had touched their child and affected her more than they ever could have. It’s hard for church to compete with the club.
Little Tywanna was taken to the Johnson home to begin her life, while her mother finished her bid.
Chapter 2
When a person’s soul goes bad, it will desire what is harmful and takes pleasure in corruption, and will love it dearly. Kathy’s soul had gone bad. She spent the rest of her time in jail planning on getting high.
She turned tricks with the guards and saved up her little change. Of course, no one would have actual intercourse with her after the pregnancy scares, but ten bucks would get your dick sucked. Kathy would hook you up through the cell bars if need be.
Over the next few months, Kathy sucked enough to put away money so that when she got out, she could hit the ground running. That’s exactly what she did too, ran straight to the dope man. The trifling girl had to pass right by her house to get to the trap-house. She turned her head as the driver passed by to ease her guilty conscience; what was left of it anyway.
It was all good though, because young Tywanna was in good hands, great ones in fact, with her loving grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson doted on the sweet child.
Deacon was old school, a man’s man. The biggest lesson he tactfully taught was what a man is. A man went to work every day to support his family. He did not curse, drink, or do drugs. He treated his woman like a queen and catered to her almost as much as she catered to him.
Her lesson was just as subtle, be a lady at all times. After all, how can you expect to be treated like a lady when you refuse to act like one? Most of what the young child was taught went over her head for the moment. They were life lessons which one would have to live to appreciate.
Still, it was like laying a concrete slab to build a house upon. No matter what life threw at her, from God’s decree, she had a solid foundation to withstand the storms. A major storm was headed her way too, a shit storm.
“Are you ok Deacon?” Mrs. Johnson asked her distressed husband, who was struggling behind the wheel of their car.
“I… I…yes d-dear,” he managed to reply, sugar coating the vice- like pain in his chest.
He was not ok. He was in the grip of a massive heart attack. Mr. Johnson tried his best to maintain the fast moving car. His last thoughts were of pulling off the road to ensure his family’s safety, but unfortunately, he didn’t make it.
“Deacon!” His wife yelled, as his head slumped down on his chest. Before she could stop the car, it drifted into the oncoming traffic. With her last bit of strength, she launched her frail frame into the backseat to cover her grandchild.
The move saved the girl’s life but cost her grandmother hers. Her back was broken in the massive collision, but she refused to leave until her baby was safe. The responding rescue units had to use the ‘jaws of life’ to extricate the broken bodies from both of the crumpled cars.
It was only once Tywanna was free that Mrs. Johnson let go of this life. She cracked a weak smile and exhaled her soul so she could join her husband. She never did like for him to go anywhere without her. They had been close like that.
Young Tywanna was headed for state foster care once her mother was notified. When the crack whore was tracked down several weeks later, her reaction at the loss of her parents was, “ok.”
She didn’t even ask about her child. In her current state she barely remembered having one.
“They ain’t have no insurance?” A fellow crack head asked as the bad news spread throughout the Trap house.
“Insurance?” Kathy asked curiously at the prospect of easy money.
Come to find out the Johnsons’ did have insurance. Lots of it. Since Kathy never formally gave custody to her parents, the state couldn’t prevent her from getting her now five year old child.
The insurance policy provided a monthly payment for the child’s upbringing, as well as a lump sum payout when she turned 18. The house was hers as well.
“I’m yo’ mama,” Kathy said dryly when social workers brought Tywanna home.
“My mama dead!” Tywanna shot back bitterly.
“Lil’ bitch I’m yo’ damn mama! I’m the one who pushed your big ass head out of my pussy!”
“Um… Ms. Johnson? Let’s go easy, she just went through a traumatic experience,” the worker said attempting to soothe both mother and child.
Tywanna turned her nose up at the stranger and marched into her bedroom. Kathy ‘hmpf-ed’ and stomped off to her deceased parents’ room that she had since commandeered.
Kathy tried at first, she really did. With the monthly checks, and food stamps she could make it. She was able to maintain for two whole days before her addiction got the best of her.
Having a house to smoke in was good for free get high. It wasn’t long before half the junkies in Longs were hanging out at the Johnson house. What was once a good quiet Christian home was now turned out.
Kathy even let a small time dealer operate from her bedroom in exchange for keeping her pipe full. Tywanna was forced to her own bedroom to escape the strangers. Once the dealer moved on, Kathy returned to renting her body for dope.
The young girl was the unwilling witness of sex acts, long before her mind could process them. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but the sights and sounds of it disgusted her.
Things took a turn for the worse when Kathy discovered that the monthly allotment of food stamps could be sold for crack. She would swipe her card in exchange for half of the total in cash. She got high but the cupboards ran dry.
Tywanna, just like the man she would one day call her father, had to learn at an early age how to fend for herself. At first, her hunger was easily satisfied by a visit to the tidy garden her grandfather kept out back. When it finally yielded its last, things became more challenging.
School offered breakfast and lunch, which on some days would have to suffice. A well timed tantrum in front of the right ‘John’ earned her a meal. Ironically, it was an ill-timed tantrum, in front of the wrong John, that opened a dark chapter in the young girl’s life.
Kathy had tricked so much, for so long, that she had worn the elasticity out of her vagina. It was just about useless now. Likewise, poor dental care left ragged sharp edges around her teeth that could cut.
She was desperately trying to figure out a way to get a client off when Tywanna walked out and demanded to be fed. The John finally got an erection when the little girl came into view.
“Mama I’m hungry!” She protested keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her. The last time she pulled this stunt the trick threw her a few dollars just to get rid of her. This one wanted to pay for her to stay.
“T
urn your back baby. I’ll get you something in a few minutes. Just stay right there,” Kathy pleaded as she stroked the man penis.
She had officially sold her child for sex. The pervert was able to get where he was trying to go just by looking at the child while Kathy touched him. The next time he came over he was more interested in the small child than the grown woman.
“Where’s the girl?” He asked eagerly scanning the room.
“She’sasleep,” Kathy said firmly, hoping that would put an end to it.
“Well just let me look at her. Pull her gown up and let me see her. I’ll pay you twenty dollars!” He said, stopping her head from shaking her headno. It now nodded yes.
It was a slow day in the middle of an even slower week, and she finally agreed.
Kathy turned her head as the predator stared down at her scrawny kid while pulling on himself. When he was ready to ejaculate he called Kathy over for use as a receptacle.
“Say Ah! Open wide!”
Chapter 3
Child molestation was the star of the next chapter in young Tywanna’s life. There must be a pedophile grapevine, because soon, men were coming specifically to see the girl.
“Mama I’m not finna’ let no man look at me!” Tywanna protested vehemently when her mother brought the plan to her.
It had gone against everything her real mama had taught her. Grandma said privates were private. That’s why she had to sit with her legs closed and be modest.
“But baby, they gonna give us money to buy food,” Kathy reasoned.
Some of the monsters would just masturbate while staring at the scrawny child. Kathy would blow a few others. It wasn’t long before she relaxed the rules and allowed touching. Only problem was, Tywanna wasn’t having it.
She employed a variety of techniques to combat being molested. At first, she did what any child would do; cry. Tywanna would pour her broken little heart out through her eyes anytime a man touched her. Sometimes it worked, other times not so much.
Some men would feel sorry for the bawling child and go home to their wives and children. Other men would only be more turned on by the crying.
The next tactic was playing skunk. She knew that the small mammal had no other defense than smelling bad. That’s when she stopped bathing all together. She wouldn’t wipe herself either after answering the call of nature.
The little girl stunk to high heaven and she could hardly stand it herself. As nasty as it was, it worked.
“That child might be dead in there!” One disgusted pedophile complained, as he rushed from the room. Can you imagine a pedophile disgusted by something?
“Wait! I’ll bathe her!” Kathy called after him as he stormed out of the house.
Kathy came back into the house winded after chasing the car half a block. She was so mad she filled a bucket with hot sudsy water and washed her child in her bed.
“Think yo’ ass is slick don’t you!” She growled as she removed sweat and waste from her daughter. “Bet yo’ ‘lil ass be clean for the next one!”
When the next monster crawled from under his rock and came for a visit, she was indeed clean too. It was cool because Tywanna had another trick up her sleeve.
“Oh hell naw!” The child molester fumed as the little girl defecated on herself as soon as he touched her.
Tywanna couldn’t help but laugh as she had chased yet another one off. That ploy worked well for a while, but some days when there was nothing to eat there was nothing to shit out.
Having run out of options, Tywanna began to fight the men. She had a decent hook game from fighting half of her school already. Playing skunk came at a cost and she was often teased. That was cool too because if you teased her, she would fight you, everyone except Big Bessie. Even the teachers let the oversized girl do whatever she wanted. Tywanna did her best to steer clear of Big Bessie.
The ferocious little fighter fought off every man that had entered her room. Most would leave when they couldn’t get anywhere. Most that is, not all.
“Look baby, Mr. Grimes own that hotel, he got plenty money so please be nice to him,” Kathy pleaded, as she introduced the elderly man.
Mr. Grimes was well into his sixties and still molesting kids. He started forty years back with his own kids, then their friends and eventually his own grandkids. He was as sick as they came.
Tywanna was almost hungry enough to go for it, almost but not quite. She lay there while the nasty old man rubbed her skinny legs. His hands felt like fire and burned into her flesh and soul.
When he attempted to touch her there, she snapped, and a hard kick sent his smile across the room as his dentures went flying. She jumped up and began wailing with everything she had.
It was a valiant effort but to no avail, she was no match for the grown man. He was a grown man who had no qualms about punching a little girl. The blow knocked the child out allowing him to have his way with her.
It could have been she could have been raped while she was unconscious and her mother oblivious. He tampered with her with his fingers and hands until she stirred awake. Once she awoke she fought again.
Her junky mother finally came in trailing crack exhaust and broke the fighting up. Mr. Grimes only paid half of the agreed upon fifty bucks, since the child was so much trouble.
That night was a turning point. Even Kathy was affected by the blood and the eye swollen shut. She gave her child a reprieve for as long as her habit would allow. It was over with though, the next time a man entered Tywanna’s room he ran out leaking.
“What in the world?” Kathy said, as a bloody blur ran through the living room and out the front door. When she went into her daughter’s room to investigate, what she saw frightened her to the core.
There was the little girl, holding a big knife, still dripping with the child molesters blood. It was over now. No more skunks, no more sleeping in the woods, no more being touched. It was over, next chapter.
Chapter 4
Middle school was just about as bad as Elementary for the social outcast. Tywanna didn’t have many friends, but no real enemies either. She battled so many kids they either respected her, ignored her, or feared her. All except Big Bessie, who feared no man.
The man sized girl was as slow as she was big. Being a bully was the only thing in which she excelled. She terrorized the school and ruled with an iron fist; a big ham-hock sized iron fist.
No one was allowed to call her Big Bessie, just Bessie. A male teacher had made that mistake once, and she slapped him down. Of course, she was suspended for several weeks then allowed to return to her reign of terror. By far, her favorite target was Tywanna.
Tywanna didn’t want to fight her, but wouldn’t take her abuse either. Most kids ran, but she held her ground. All the bullies keep jesters and hype men at their sides, and Ema-mae was Big Bessie’s.
Big Bessie got big and stayed big by eating other people’s food. Every day in the school’s cafeteria during breakfast and lunch, someone got jacked. She would eat an additional three, or four trays to augment her own.
This is where she and Tywanna butted heads. The girl was near starved and was not coming off her only meals. Bessie let it slide in favor of easier prey, but she was now on the girl’s radar.
“Ooh, there she go Big Bes… I mean Bessie!”Ema-mae said, alerting her boss as Tywanna emerged from the school house.
She tried to stop short of adding the forbidden adjective to her name, but enough slipped out to get her slapped for it. It was only a tap, but it sent the smaller girl rolling in the dirt. She jumped up and dusted herself off as she rushed to catch up.
Big Bessie was marching towards Tywanna sending scared kids scrambling to get out of her way. They panicked upon seeing her, and sighed in relief once she had passed them by.
“I heard you had something to say ‘bout me!” Bessie boomed down in her baritone voice. It was a lie of course but she needed an excuse to step to the girl.
Tywanna knew it as well but refused to back down. Sh
e was scared as any “David” would be when faced with a Goliath. Still she wouldn’t cower or run.
“All I said was you’re a big ugly cow!” Tywanna said fearlessly. The girl wanted trouble and she’d found it.
Bessie’s big hand spread like a catcher’s mitt and sped towards Tywanna’s face before she could duck. The resulting smack sounded like thunder and made the side of her face go numb.
The heavy blow sent her staggering a few feet but she didn’t fall. She bounced back wailing away with both fists. They traded blows at a twenty to one ratio until Big Bessie overwhelmed her with heavy blows.
Tywanna took a beating that day, and the next, and the one after that. She fought Big Bessie every day that the big girl tried her. She was content with losing fight after fight, but she was not giving up her food and she was not backing down. It sent a message to the other kids that spoke loud and clear. It may have gone on forever if Bessie hadn’t crossed the line. She went too far and it was about to cost her.
“Eww! What is that?” Ema-mae said, reeling from the Mason jar filled with a murky brown liquid. It stunk right through the glass.
“Um, let’s see,” Bessie smiled. “A lil’ pee, a lil’ poop, um tobacco juice from grandma’s spit jar, and spoiled milk.”
“What you finna’ do with that?” she replied in disgust. Who would make a concoction as vile as that and what could you possibly do with it. “Bout to give ole gal a drank,” Bessie said, wickedly nodding towards Tywanna.
Ema-mae knew that was going too far but could only shake her head. Any protest might have earned a slap or worse yet, what was in the jar. The liquid seemed to be bubbling on its own as if it were fermenting.
Furthermore, she knew Tywanna had done nothing to deserve what was coming to her. The pretty, introvert girl kept to herself and minded her own business. She seemed totally unaffected or concerned with the goings on around her. But since she wasn’t attached to any group or clique she was a target.
