says, yeah man, I buy some smack from you but times is hard
man. W says well you come to see me man if you need anything
but I don’t want my woman here bothered. You understand, W
says with quiet seriousness and authority, this is my woman. You
treat her with respect man you understand she belongs to me.
Hey man I didn’t mean nothing by it man.
69
Joe fumbles and sweats. They talk smack. Joe is sloppy and
scared, W is austere and serious. W shows Joe to the door.
Then he comes back.
I thank him. It isn’t enough. He tears into me. He bites my
clitoris and bites it and bites it until I wish I was dead. He
fucks. He bites my clitoris more, over and over, for hours, I
want to die. The pain is shooting through my brain. I am
chewed and bitten and maimed. I am bleeding. He leaves. I
hurt so bad I can’t even crawl. He leaves the front door wide
open.
*
From now on N and I never sleep at the same time: one of us
is always awake with a knife in her hand. We lie down on the
narrow mattress together, never alone, and one sleeps and one
stays awake, knife in hand, knife clutched, ready to use. She
sleeps a few hours, I listen to every sound: knife in my hand.
The sweat is cold now always: no matter how the summer
heat boils and steams and hangs like fire in the air. I sleep a
few hours, wake up in a cold sweat, always to find her wide
awake, eyes wide open, alert, watching the room: anything
moves, it dies. I count on her. I count on the knife. I think I
can use it on myself, if there are too many of them.
*
We know they will come back. I knew Joe would turn me over
to the others when he was done that night or some other. We
know we can’t keep them out. They know. We wait. We don’t
sleep very much at all.
*
I am staggeringly hurt: body and mind.
*
N and I are inside, sitting on the mattress. She is writing in her
notebook. I am staring at the wall. I can walk now. There is a
knock on the door. It is W. He is invited in. I don’t talk. I sit.
N sits. He stands, very tall, then sits. He brings out some grass.
He is soft-spoken and courteous. He rolls a joint. We smoke.
He and N exchange pleasantries. We smoke. I don’t talk. He
speaks directly to me. I stare. I haven’t been talking much but now
I don’t talk at all. He saved me. I can’t think of anything to
say. I think I say thank you. We smoke. My body is slowly
getting numb, hard to move, nearly immobile. Each arm, each
