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“I forgot that I have to do chores,” I said harshly, fighting back tears at the same time.
Bianca giggled. “We’re in second grade. How many chores could you have? I can ask Momma to wait until you’re done.”
“No!” I took her off guard with my tone, so I lowered it. “You go ahead. I don’t have any money to shop anyway, and it’s not like I’m going on any vacation.”
Bianca forced a smile and walked away from my house slowly as her mother grew more impatient by their car. I fought back tears, rushed into the house, and slammed the door behind me. Big mistake!
“You little bitch!” I heard my mother scream from upstairs. “You slammed that fucking door again!”
“I didn’t mean it,” I said in a loud whisper as she practically catapulted downstairs from the upper level. “I didn’t mean it.”
I ran into the kitchen, hoping Grandma would be able to protect me from the beating that I saw coming a mile away.
Grandma was standing over the sink, using a paring knife to peel potatoes that she had a pot of water on the stove to boil them in. “What’s wrong, Caprice?”
Before I could reply, Mother came rushing in and started slapping me in the face and all upside my head. She was screaming something, but I was too busy trying to shield my body to understand any of it.
Grandma walked over from the sink and tried to pull Mother off me, but Mother knocked her backward into the table. She slipped on something and fell onto the floor, with the paring knife still in her hand.
Mother turned to Grandma and this time, I could make out her words since the slaps ceased for a moment. “Momma, she’s the Devil! She’s the Devil! She never should have been born!”
“Stop talking crazy, Denise,” Grandma said, struggling to get up. “We need to get you some help. You can’t keep beating on that baby like that. I won’t allow it.”
“What the fuck you going to do about it?”
The two of them stood there staring each other down for a moment. Looking back on it, I understand that Grandma could not have possibly begun to comprehend the mental issues my mother had, exacerbated by the heavy drug use. Mother’s eyes were bloodshot and she was trembling like she was coming down from something.
Grandma spanned out of her shock. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, after everything I went through to raise you. You’re an ungrateful—”
“Ungrateful? Ungrateful? Your brother raped me.” Mother pointed at me. “And this is the result. Having to raise his little demon.”
“I’m not a demon,” I said, not really quite sure of the definition of the word, but I knew it was akin to being a devil. “I’m a girl.”
“Donald’s paid for what he did to you,” Grandma said. “He’s dead and gone. I’ve done the best that I can by you. I had no idea your uncle was capable of such a thing.”
“You’re a damn liar!” Mother moved toward Grandma, who inched back. Fear was apparent on her face, and I could see her tightening her grip on the paring knife in her right hand, just in case. “You’re a liar! You knew he was sick. All of you knew he was a sick pedophile and that I wasn’t the first; probably not the last. You wouldn’t have even pressed charges if I had come to you first. You didn’t
press charges when he did the same thing to you when you were younger.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Grandma said. “Donald never did anything to me.”
“Liar! He told me all about it. How he used to make you suck his filthy dick and lie there in your bed while he fucked you into oblivion.”
Grandma stared down at me. “The baby’s in the room. Stop talking nonsense.”
“Caprice is not a damn baby. She better learn quick what kind of world we live in. A world where men use us as interchangeable pieces of meat and where any pussy is for their taking, whether the woman wants to give it willingly or not. I’m not sugarcoating shit for her.”
“Denise, stop it. That’s enough.”
“No, it’s not enough.” She glared at Grandma. “Look at you. You laid down with some man and made me and he left you before I was born. I wouldn’t be surprised if Uncle Donald is my daddy, too.”
“That’s blasphemy! Shut the hell up, Denise!”
“You shut the hell up, Momma!” Mother pointed at me. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve happened. If you had put a stop to him, this little bitch on the floor would’ve never been born. I asked you, begged you, to let me have an abortion. You cursed me for life. For life.”
“I’m not sure what kind of drugs you’re taking, but I will not have you talk to me like this.” Grandma raised the paring knife. “Not now. Not ever.”
Mother laughed. “Oh, so what are you planning to do with that? Kill me? Slice me up?”
