Voice of a Thousand

The sun was still up but I could barely keep my eyes open. It was a Saturday.

I couldn’t go on like this forever. I needed to sleep.

I slipped away from the TV room. Surely no one would be aware. Surely ‘he’ wouldn’t notice. Brandy, my older sister, was captivated in front of the old tube. Little brother Rudy was outside making a muck of things in the backyard, as always. Mom was visiting with a friend and Dad was at work. It was summer holiday; that just meant more sleepless nights for me. I didn’t know where ‘he’ was; could I really steal away for some rest?

I was turning 13 that December. No big deal really. For all of my years no one really seemed to notice that I was around. No one but ‘him’ that is. It’s like that with middle children; we hold no special position so we’re often overlooked.

I snuck off to my room, turned the knob gently as I closed and locked the door. Then I hoped into bed.

I fell asleep quickly. My body was like a log. I felt like the prison inmates that were tortured night and day by resounding sirens to keep them from getting a full nights rest.

It was a short sleep. My eyes flew open as soon as my ears picked up the click-clitch of the door lock being picked. In those days the locks on bedroom doors were the soft turn ones that could be undone through the tiny slit on the outside of the door. It was being undone.

****

I typed the last sentence of the paragraph and slammed the ‘full stop’ key with harsh emphasis.

I sucked in a deep breath and arched my back against the wooden dining room table chair for a good stretch. For the length of this entire book, I wrote while sitting at the table. I didn’t want to be comfortable. It wasn’t the kind of book that told about comfortable things.

I started writing five years ago to the date. I won’t kid either one of us; it’s been hard.

I sighed. It was a triple feat. One was the memory, two was the writing, three was reading what I wrote. Publishing this book was going to change everything and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

I clicked the save button on my laptop and headed to the shower.

The shower…

It’s been more than twenty years now but taking a shower still gives me the shivers.

****

It was early. Everyone should be asleep, apart from dad who was on a business trip outside of town. After watching her soap operas all day and sometimes into the night, mom would be dead to the world in her deep sleep the morning after. I gathered my clothes- all of them- and headed to the shower. I always dressed fully in the bathroom after bathing now.

I sat on the toilette to relieve myself as I pulled off my night socks. That’s when my eye caught a movement in the door. The door was old and had some termite borings. Dad knew it needed to be fixed but it still served it’s purpose so it wasn’t at the top of the repair list. Just now I could hear the tiny rasping sound of something poking through one of those termite holes. I wanted to scream but I was caught between fear and fascination. Would a termite or some other bug come poking out? It was neither.

I froze in horror. It was a screw driver. I jumped up from the toilette, climbed into the shower and yanked the curtain across. It was ‘him’. Hot tears streamed down my face. Why was this happening to me? Why didn’t anyone know this was happening? I turned on the shower as hot as I could stand it and removed the rest of my clothing. I stayed there until I could hear Brandy and Rudy moving about. Eventually ‘he’ left. Taking a shower was never going to be the same. Did he have to watch my little naked body in the bathroom too? Why was I letting this happen? I still tried to scream every day…still no sound came from my voice box.

***

The shower was refreshing. I needed that to perk me up. Latasha would be arriving shortly and I needed to look strong and focused. Latasha was my editor; she was also my friend. She had been working on this project with me for over a year. Latasha and I met several years ago in college. She was the classic liberalist who believed in the rights of everyone from the transgender monk to the Rhesus Monkey. If there was a cause she believed in, she would die fighting for it. When I told her about my book project, I met another side of her. Latasha had been the victim of an abusive relationship just months before I approached her. Unlike me, she fought back. She was no pussy cat. She became my cheerleader. We were a perfect fit for friendship.

Latasha waltzed in with the confidence and flair that was signature of her.

“Tell me it’s done Nan! I’m going crazy with excitement. I promise this is going to free you from all that suppressed…stuff you hold onto.”

Latasha grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, a bit too roughly. But that was her way.

I avoided her gaze a little.

“What’s the matter?” she called me out.

“I just …I just don’t know if I am doing the right thing. This is really going to affect a lot of people. Maybe I should…”

Latasha shook me again; this time ten times harder than before.

She looked me in the eyes. “This is your story Nan and it’s time you told it. You didn’t do anything wrong. And yet you have been paying for his crime all these years. Remember why you started this please.”

I closed my eyes. I was still in Latasha’s grip and somehow that was very comforting. She was waiting for me to respond.

“I started to write this book because…” I paused and sighed.

“Go ahead!” Latasha said firmly.

“I started to write this book …to help someone. I don’t know who but I know I am not the only girl who was ever in danger of being molested by someone they trust. That’s what I want to do. I just…if I could just help save one girl from going through what I did….” That was as far as I got.

I broke down in tears. Not just any tears. I felt like I was overcome by the grief, pain and sadness of a thousand molested young girls. It hurt but I couldn’t stop crying. I wouldn’t stop.

Latasha drew me close to her and let me sob.

***

I fell asleep. It was normal to sleep-wasn’t it? This time I slept a little too much. How come I didn’t notice someone crawling into the bed behind me? My eyes flew open but before I could panic or scream. I heard a familiar voice. This was the first episode.

“It’s me. It’s okay, just relax. I just wanted to sleep beside you. You know I love you don’t you?” ‘He’ nestled himself behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. Soon his hand began trailing down my chest and began fondling my underdeveloped body. His hands didn’t stop there. I was horrified but couldn’t scream. I felt his body jerk back and forth and something hard thumped me from behind. Soon there was a wet sensation on my back and he started to breathe hard and rough on the back of my neck. I cried quietly until I fell asleep.

I thought it was a dream. That thing couldn’t have happened for real could it?

I walked into the dining room for breakfast the next morning. Everyone was there- Mom, Dad, Brandy, Chris and Rudy.

No one noticed me standing there in the doorway. Suddenly I felt the pit of my stomach fall. I felt sick and dirty and I wanted to cry. I clasped my hands and started wringing them while tears welled up in my eyes.

Suddenly dad looked up. “What’s the matter Nan?

I don’t know if I was going to say anything; I never got a chance. Chris rose quickly from his chair and headed over to me. I didn’t have a chance. He wrapped his hands around me and hugged me tight.

He said, “you know I love you don’t you?”

That’s when I knew- it was no dream.

***

Latasha read the last lines aloud. Her face was wet but these were not tears of sadness, they were tears of anger.

“I’m really proud of you Nan. You are the voice of a thousand.”

“Me? I am a weakling with no spine.”

“But today, you have grown one.” Latasha picked up her hand bag and grabbed me by the arm.

“OpenHouse Publishing is waiting, let’s go! We exited my apartment door together.

There was no turning back now