Yolanda M. Johnson-Bryant
The searing heat beamed down on the family of trees in the desolate backyard. The humidity rising from the ditch out back was rancid, mosquitoes abundant. Murky brown elixir, lurking like volcanic lava behind the derelict shack gave way to southern stench. Cracking paint graced the structure, adorned by its broken windows and rickety boards. Transgressed cement, an evil sanctuary, sufficed as a foundation covered in tall, uncut grass; the devil’s first formation lurking beneath.
Silence broken as the depressed heavens peeked through the emerald forest. Innocence of life skipping along, chasing butterflies. Innocence startled.
“Babra’ Jean, get yo’ tail in hea’ and clean dis’ house.” Memah stood short and petite yelling from the screen door; hanging onto its last hinge. Barbara Jean scurried up the mangled steps into the kitchen. The aroma of salt pork danced a jig.
“When I get back, I want dem clothes hangin’ out on dat line. I want dis kichen’ flo’ scrubbed an’ I want dat wall dere in da bafroom washed.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Barbara Jean answered. She gathered the clothes and put them in the bin behind the house. “Ain’t nuttin like tha’ reaaaaaal thang baaaby. Ain’t nothing like tha’ reaaaaal thang.” Harmonious sounds escaping young vocals.
“Whatchu out there sangin’ girl?” Memah asked peering from the screen door.
“Nuthin’ Mama,” was Barbara Jean’s ghastly reply. The sense of happiness suddenly begotten.
“Dontchu lie to me chile,” Memah said, fiercely making her way down the unstable steps.
Throbbing, but no blood this time. “Yes ma’am,” Barbara Jean said weakly as she held her jaw. Memah walked back up the tattered stairs and disappeared into the structure.
“This house bet be clean when we get back,” Memah called from inside. Creak. Slam. Silence. Nothingness.
Today was Sunday. Barbara Jean snuck to the edge of the house and peeked around the corner. She watched her mother and her siblings fade down the dirt-paved road. They attended services at the Greater Baptist Church of Monroe. Barbara Jean was always left behind to tend to the chores, Sunday dinner; and daddy.
After they vanished, she continued about washing clothes. Once again, melodic harmony escaping joyous vocals. “Ain’t nuthin’ like tha’ real thang baaaaaaaaby.” Shock, fear, panic, terror.
“What’cho mama tell you bout all that sangin’ gurl?” Jessie Lee asked. “You know ain’t no sangin’ ‘round hea.”
“Yes sir,” she said shamefully holding her head down.
“Commere,” he summoned.
“Yes sir.” No movement.
“You hear me gull? Don’t make me take off ma’ belt and whip da black offa’ you.” Anger, power, adrenaline.
“Yes sir.” She journeyed towards her father. Fright pierced her sharper than any two-edged sword ever could. Every step felt like quicksand. Head held down, humiliation overshadowing. Pain. Liquid. Unsure of its derivation.
“I said commere. Don’t let me tell you again.”
“Yes sir.” Barbara Jean took the endless journey up the four squeaky stairs; a feeling worse than death.
“Didn’t yo’ mama tell you ta’ wash dem walls in da bafroom?”
“Yes sir.” Discomposure overpowered her. No eye contact; except the floor.
“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you,” Jessie Lee contended.
“Yes sir.” Still, no eye contact. Pain again. Destination unknown. Tears falling like dual tidal waves.
“Dammit, look at me.” Jessie Lee grabbed Barbara Jean’s face, forcing her to look at him. The thought of looking at him was far worse than the strikes he had just administered to her.
“Whatchu cryin’ fo’?” he asked looking straight into her eyes, confirming her terror. He felt dominant and full of control. She could see his eyes turn an evil shade of jet black. It was as if Midnight’s son himself had taken over his corpse. His dismal demeanor turned to grimace.
“Please Daddy, no!” Barbara Jean protested. She knew what was to happen next. He forced the top of her head down until she was in proper position. Another sharp pain. No liquid, but the burning in her ear told her the source of her pain.
Her father grabbed both sides of her head and lifted her.
“I’m sorry baby. Daddy sorry. I want you to do that special thang you do for yo’ Daddy okay?”
“No Daddy!” Barbara Jean yelped.
Jessie Lee threw her frail body into the wall, her head hitting the sink.
“I wouldn’t have ta’ do dis’ iffen you would jes’ do wut I tell you to.” Barbara Jean collected enough strength to get up on her knees and take position in front of her father. She unzipped his trousers.
“Thas’ right baby. You’z daddy’s lil’ girl ain’tchu?” Barbara Jean took out her fathers already growing penis and brought her head closer to his crotch.
“I gotta use the bafroom daddy,” she pleaded.
“You go to da bafroom when you finish.” He pressed her head closer to his penis until the tip was embedded between her lips. Barbara Jean froze. Her father’s three-day old sweat overpowered her nostrils. Jessie Lee became angry and thrust his ten-inch organ into her mouth while holding her head in place. Barbara Jean began to choke.
“Dontchu’ throw up dis time gotdammit. Dontchu throw up,” Jesse Lee demanded. Barbara Jean tried to gasp for air. She could hear her father moaning in such pleasure. Confusion. Pain? Pleasure? Both? His moaning became louder as he tilted his head backwards.
“Yes. Yes. Mmmmmm. Thas’ daddy’s lil’ girl. Yes. Can’t nobody make me feel like you can baby girl.” Warm liquid invaded her mouth with each continuous moan. His grunts grew louder as if he were a lion about to divulge on its prey.
“Ughhhhhhrrrrr,” escaped him.
Vomit. She rushed to the commode. She missed; liquid rushing out of control.
“Now lookie whatchu done gone and did. Now you gotta clean up dat mess.” Jessie Lee retrieved the mop from the kitchen. But she knew her ordeal was far from over.
“Turn ova,” he barked. “Take off yo’ pannies. I wanna see that pretty lil’ pussy of yos’.” Barbara Jean didn’t move.
“Don’t make me do wut I had ta do lass time baby girl. Dontchu’ wanna please yo’ daddy?”
Jessie Lee put his hands in between her legs and parted them. Barbara Jean was shaking uncontrollably, almost as if she was having a seizure. He touched her warmness through her underwear.
“Yea. Thas’ right. You all hot fa’ daddy. Thas ma’ lil girl.” Barbara Jean felt faint as she began to hyperventilate.
“Wus’ wrong babygirl?” he asked.
“I can’t breath,” she panted. Jessie Lee opened the window near the bathtub.
“You be aright. We best hurry up fo’ yo’ mama ‘nem get home. We don’t want them knowin’ our lil secret do we baby girl?” Silence.
“Do we baby girl?” he raised his voice, holding her face so that her eyes were in contact with his.
“No sir,” she said, eyes puffy and red still crying a river.
“Good, now get ova hea ova dis here sink.” He bent her over the sink and removed her underwear.
“Gollie, lookie dat sweet lil ass. Yo’ mama sho’ be jealous if she knew.” He propped her chest up over the sink.
“My chest hurt daddy, I can hardly breath.”
“Shush up now girl, I’m tryna’ concentrate.” Sharper pain. He had entered her. Tears; softly, louder. He covered her mouth.
“You shush now. Don’t dat feel good? You makin’ daddy feel real good now.”
She continued crying as the thrusts got harder, deeper and faster. She could vaguely hear her father breathing hard through her own heavy breathing. Her limp body collapsing onto the floor.
“Getcho’ ass up. I’m ain’t done witchu’ yet. Daddy ain’t came yet. Getcho’ ass back up hea,” he yelled. No movement.
“Do you hear me gotdammit? You got ten seconds to getcho’ ass up or imma’ beat da hell outchu.” No movement. He kicked her in the side.
“You makin’ daddy really unhappy right now. Get da hell up!” He began to yell hysterically. He kicked her harder and even harder until he realized; fear, panic; she wasn’t moving. In fact it didn’t look like she was breathing at all.
“Barbara Jean? Barbara Jean? Dontchu’ be playin’ no games wit me now. You hear me? Ansa me gotdammit!” Nothingness. He picked up her limp body and ran outside to the backyard where the water pump took residence. He doused her with water. No movement.
“Wus wrong Jessie?” he heard Rosie say from the side of the house. Startled, Jessie Lee jumped, dropping Barbara Jean’s limp body to the ground.
“She ain’t breathin’.”
“Whatchu mean she ain’t breathin’? Wus wrong wit her?”
“I don’t know Rosie, the gurl was out hea’ washing clothes and when I looked out hea’ ta check on her, she was layin’ on da ground.”
“Oh Lawd, Jesus, wus wrong with my baby?” Rosie screamed running to her daughter’s aid. “What done happened to you? Ansa me girl. Ansa me.”
“Imma go get Mr. Reynolds. He know what ta do.” Jessie Lee ran past the other children who stood in awe, as he zoomed down the dirt road to Mr. Reynolds’ clinic.
“Mista Reynolds, Mista Reynolds,” Jessie Lee panted after barging into Dr. Reynolds office. “My baby girl ain’t breathin’. She ain’t breathin’!”
“Calm down Jessie Lee. What seems to be the problem?” Doctor Reynolds asked.
“My baby girl she ain’t breathin’. You gotta come quick. She ain’t breathin’. We don’t know iffen she dead or alive!”
“Okay. Okay. Jessie Lee. I need you to calm down. Now where is she?”
“Down yonda road at da house,” Jessie Lee managed to get out. Dr. Reynolds grabbed his medical bag and he and Jessie Lee drove back to the house.
When they arrived, Jessie Lee jumped out of the car and ran into the backyard where everyone had huddled around Barbara Jean’s flaccid body.
“Rosie, Mista Reynolds hea’,” Jessie Lee announced.
“Jessie Lee how she get this big ole knot on her head?” Rosie asked. A knot the size of a baseball had appeared on Barbara Jean’s forehead.
“I don’t know Rosie. Maybe she..she..ummm maybe she uhh.. hit her head on the washin’ board.”
Dr. Reynolds took out his stethoscope and searched for a heartbeat. “She’s still breathing but barely. We need to get her to my office immediately.
“Is she gone be alright?” Rosie asked
“I don’t know we have to get her there first. And we need to run some tests on her.”
“Whatchu mean run some tests on her?” Jessie Lee asked. Fear reversed. Suspect.
“Well we have to figure out what happened here.”
“I done tole you what happened doc. I said she musta fell and hit her head.”
“Well we won’t know exactly what’s wrong until we run those tests Jessie Lee.”
Rosie watched in suspicion as Jessie Lee walked back into the house.
††††††
“Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, I’ve gotten the results back,” Dr. Reynolds said a few hours later. Jessie Lee stood up nervously and followed Rosie into Dr. Reynolds’ office.
“Is she gone be okay?” Jessie Lee asked.
“In time she will be,” he told them; concerned. Suspecting. Jessie Lee let out a sigh of relief and got up to walk out of the office.
“Where you goin’?” Rosie asked him.
“You heard the good docta. She gone be okay.”
“She was raped,” Dr. Reynolds interrupted. Suspecting.
“Raped?” Rosie asked. Shock, fear, suspecting.
“Whatchu’ mean she was raped? How you know she been raped?” Jessie Lee asked. Fearful. Suspect.
“Sit down Mrs. Jackson. Your daughter was raped. The test results show that she suffered severe trauma to her uterus and her pelvis. And it is quite possible she won’t be able to bear children.”
Rosie began to weep. “Who would do this to my baby?” Nervousness as she already knew and couldn’t face; truth.
“She was also beaten real bad. She has two broken ribs, not to mention the large bump on her head,” Doctor Reynolds continued. Looking from Rosie to Jessie Lee.
“Since you know err’thang, how she get that?” Jessie Lee asked. Defensive. Suspect.
“She either suffered a hard blow to her head or she suffered a hard fall.”
Rosie sat in the chair in front of Dr. Reynolds’ desk, looking down at her twiddling thumbs. “Is that all docta?”
“Well, she has a lower lateral cut on the right side of her scull, and a blood clot on her left side. Your daughter was hurt very badly. Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Suspecting.
Rosie didn’t speak. She didn’t look up. It had gone too far this time.
“I dunno, I mean umm ahh I...I. I don’t know doc.” Jessie Lee fumbled his words. Suspect.
“Where was she when this happened?” Dr. Reynolds asked them trying another route.
“She was in da back yawd.” Jessie Lee answered.
“And where was the rest of the family?” Dr. Reynolds asked trying not to sound accusing.
“I was, um..“ Jessie Lee started.
“We was at church,“ Rosie intercepted. “Thank you docta. Can we take Barbara Jean home now?” Like the other times, there was nothing she could do.
“Unfortunately, Mrs. Jackson, I can’t let her go home until I find out if she is pregnant or not. She is in critical condition right now. And if she is pregnant, there’s a good chance she won’t be able to carry the baby to term.” Suspecting.
“Pregnant?” Jessie Lee and Rosie said in unison. Jessie Lee jumped up and began to pace the floor rapidly.
“You are more than welcomed to stay with her. We are going to transfer her to the county hospital up in Baton Rouge.” Dr. Reynolds showed great concern and sorrow for Rosie, but his demeanor changed when he looked at Jessie Lee who would not look his way, or Rosie’s way for that matter. Suspect.
“How long you thank she gone hafta stay?” Rosie asked.
“A few days if she does well.”
Rosie sobbed louder. “Lawd, Lawd, Lawd,” was all she said as she rocked back and forth quietly.
“Pregnant?” Jessie Lee repeated, talking to himself as if no one was in the room. Suspect.
“Yes. She was raped severely. Semen was present in her vagina and in her mouth as well as her rectum.” Rosie whimpered and quietly walked out of Dr. Reynolds office.
Crimes of Passion: The Anthology All Rights Reserved©
“Oh, so now you wanna shoot me,” Saivon said. He stared her down, scoffing that this woman would ever think of pulling a gun on him. He knew the bitch was crazy, but this was ridiculous. Once he charmed that gun out her hand, he was going to knock the taste out of her mouth!
She held the gun shakily. She was afraid, but tried not to show it. Instead, she looked him right in the eye. He would pay for what he’d done to her.
“Nothing to say, huh?” he asked, folding his arms.
She remained in her stance, the gun aimed directly at Saivon’s head. She cocked the pistol and asked, “How could you do this to me?”
“Do what?” he spat. “Don’t act like you never got played before. Get the fuck over it!”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“That’s all I’m gonna say.”
He rubbed his head. This exchange was going nowhere. Saivon knew he would have to change his tone if he was ever going to get that gun out of her hand. He looked around the room, glad that his real woman wasn’t around to see this. He had to get this crazy woman out of there before she returned.
“I loved you,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “I gave up everything for you. People thought I was crazy, but I stood by you. You promised me that it was over between you and her. You said we were going to get married.”
“I know what I said, Sweety,” Saivon said, “and I meant all of it. But life doesn’t always work out like that. I’m sorry if you got hurt.”
She held her aim, unmoved by his words. For her, it would take a lot more than words to make her change her mind about killing his ass. “I wanted to be with you so bad that I stopped speaking to anybody who had something negative to say about us. I even considered getting pregnant so I could give you the daughter you said you always wanted. When you said you wanted to get married, I told everyone I knew about it. I even had the fuckin’ China pattern picked out!”
Saivon forgot all about trying to get the gun out of her hands and broke into side-splitting laughter. “You did all that? What do you want me to do about it?”
“You evil bastard,” she said. His laughter morphed her tears into anger. How could he think her life was the butt of a damned joke? “You never really loved me, did you? You just used me to get your rocks off, right?”
Saivon let his laugh subside before he replied. “You fuckin’ women kill me, you know that? All a man has to do is say I love you and you turn into a fuckin’ doormat. Then when it doesn’t work out, you wanna accuse a nigga of using you.
“Maybe you used me. You used me to get what you thought you were missing out on. All your other friends had a man, so you had to have one too. You got tired of sleeping by yourself at night, so you used me to sex you down. And what about all those fuckin’ bills I paid for you? Did I ever say no? So I say we broke even, wouldn’t you think?”
Her arm was getting tired, so she brought her other arm up to support the gun. She knew if she showed any weakness at all, he would swoop in and kill her. She couldn’t take that chance.
“It’s not about the sex or the money,” she said, “it’s about trust. I trusted you with my heart and my life. When people told me you were no good, I refused to believe them because I trusted you. You used to tell me how much you loved me and respected me. You knew I had trust issues coming into this relationship, but you assured me that you would never hurt me.
“You were there for me when times were rough. You were a shoulder to lean on. When you told me to come visit you, I moved hell and high water to get there and be with you. You were my man and I wanted to be there to support you.”
Saivon glared at her with his arms folded. Deep down, he really was sorry for how he’d hurt her, but there was no way he could tell her that. He’d told too many lies. There was no way she would believe anything he told her. Besides, the way she was acting now made him not want to apologize. He just wanted to get that gun out of hand before she got up the courage to actually use it.
“Look,” he said, his arms still folded, “like I said before, things don’t always work out the way we plan. It didn’t work out. Just move on.”
She rolled her eyes and straightened her arms out. “It’s not that easy. See, your hurt me. You lied to me over and over, even after I gave you the chance to be straight with me. You care about nobody but yourself, and your ass needs to die tonight.”
Now, he was pissed. “Bitch, if you don’t give me that motherfuckin’ gun, we’re both gonna die tonight!”
He lunged forward to grab the gun, but she stepped out of the way just in time.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Saivon shouted. “You want some dick or something?”
She answered him with a shot, which hit him in the arm. Two more shots rang out. Saivon’s lifeless body fell to the ground, a surprised look frozen on his face. As the blood puddle grew larger, a woman’s scream filled the air.