It's Like Candy (9 page)

“Tah-Tah, please, stay out my business. I'm good for now. I don't need your help. I know how to get a man. So stop tryin' to pimp me,” River lightly scolded her.

“Excuse me, Ms. High and Mighty. I was only tryin' to help you out. I was helping you to get a niggah that's worth keeping, but if you wanna be stingy wit' the pussy and fuck wit' these broke-ass niggahs, then fuck it . . . be a broke bitch!”

River let out a loud sigh, grabbed her sandwich and drink, and quickly rushed by Tah-Tah. Tah-Tah smirked at her as she passed, and blurted out, “River, you need some dick. When was the last time you had some?”

River ignored her and went straight to her room, slamming the door shut.

Like my mother, that fuckin' woman is impossible,
River said to herself. She placed her food and drink on the night table next to her
bed and just sat there staring at the wall. Talking to Tah-Tah brought back unwanted memories of her mother and the ordeal that she went through when she was young.

River went into her drawer and pulled out a framed picture of her younger sister. It was the only picture she had of her sister, the only picture of family she had around.

She peered at the picture quietly. Her sister was ten in the photo, and smiling as if the world was a great place to live. River's heart began to sadden as she continued to gaze at the photo. She felt guilty. Her conscience was eating away at her. River left home when she was sixteen, leaving Starr, her baby sister, in the grips of a madwoman who was very abusive and disturbed.

River wondered if her sister was all right. She hadn't seen or spoken to her since she left home five years ago. She had gone back to their old apartment once to see about Starr and maybe get her away from their mother, but they had moved. She had lost contact with everybody.

River continued to peer at the picture, forgetting about her snack. She wasn't hungry anymore. River started to reminisce about her mother, remembering when the abuse had first started at home.

She had been ten at the time, and it had been a Saturday night. Her father had left home when she was seven and never returned. River was in the shower lathering herself up when the bathroom door opened and in came her mother with a male stranger.

River shrieked when the shower curtain was pulled back. She tried to cover herself, and shouted, “Mama, what are you doing?”

“Hush your mouth, girl,” her mother chided, glaring at her daughter.

“Mama, who is that? Get him out of here!” River screamed.

“River, I gave birth to you, and this is my house. You don't tell me what to do in my own home. You fuckin' hear me?”

“Mama, I'm in the bathroom . . . please . . . tell him to leave,” River continued, not caring about her mother's previous statement.

Sheryl turned to the man, and said, “Excuse us a minute, dear. We need to talk.”

The stranger walked out of the bathroom without saying a word. Sheryl closed the bathroom door behind him, removed her belt from around her waist, and glared at her daughter. She said, “Bitch, do I need to teach you some fuckin' manners in my home? Huh?”

But before River could answer, her mother quickly approached her with the belt and came down hard across her back twice, as River turned to protect herself.

“Mama, stop! Stop!” River cried out, trying to protect herself from the painful blows.

Her mother continued to rain down blows on her with the belt, which stung against her wet bare skin. Sheryl beat her daughter in the tub like a madwoman, ignoring her daughter's cries, while her younger daughter was asleep in the next room.

River dropped to her knees in the tub, hurt, her skin bloody, as the water above still cascaded down on her with tears mixing in.

Her mother stood over her, looking down fiercely at her broken young daughter.

“Bitch, don't you ever fuckin' talk back to me. You heard what the fuck I said? I'm your fuckin' mother. You don't run things here. I fuckin' do! You better start remembering that, River. You fuckin' hear me?!”

River continued to cry.

“Bitch, do you fuckin' hear me?” Sheryl screamed.

River slowly nodded.

“Now get the fuck off you knees and do what I say.”

River slowly stood up, tears continuing to trickle down her face. Her mother went back out into the hallway to get her company.

She came back into the bathroom with the man. River couldn't even look their way, but stared at the shower wall.

“Give me my money,” River heard her mother say to him.

The man passed Sheryl a hundred dollars. She took the money, looked at her daughter, and said, “Now, River, all he wants to do is watch you bathe, nothing else. If he tries anything else, you scream for me. Okay?”

River just stood there, not complying.

“River, I said okay?” her mother shouted more sternly.

“Yes, Mother,” a tearful, frightened young River replied.

“Okay,” her mother said, leaving the bathroom.

The stranger sat down on the toilet seat, crossed his legs, and said, “Please, continue. I won't hurt you.”

River couldn't even look at him. She was afraid to. Reluctantly, she squatted down slowly and picked up the soap. She then slowly touched herself with the soap, but flinched when she gently pressed the soap against her broken skin.

Specks of blood from the beating covered her skin, and it hurt so much when she touched her wounds.

But scared of receiving another whipping from her mother, she began to bathe again while the man watched from a very short distance.

It took her ten painful minutes to finish. The water made her skin sting. The pain for her was unbearable. But out of fear, she got through it. She was so uncomfortable. The man watched and didn't say one word.

“I've seen enough,” he said suddenly. He got up and just left the bathroom without even looking back.

Shortly after her mother came back into the bathroom and told River to get out of the tub. She was done. River dried herself off and went straight to her bedroom. She cried all night as she nursed her wounds.

Before River lost her virginity at thirteen, her mother made men pay to watch her shower or bathe. She had men come into their home and give up cash just so they could watch a young girl touch herself. It was sickening. River cried after every incident her mother put her
through. The beatings continued, sometimes so severe that River couldn't even get up afterward.

She would miss school for days, sometimes weeks. And when teachers or the staff got too nosey, Sheryl would take her family and move away, shacking up with men she knew, and paying her rent by giving them some pussy. And if they didn't want her, then she would pimp her daughters. But by offering sex she survived the streets, not living off welfare and not being homeless. Men loved Sheryl, and she thrived off using her body and looks.

River used to look at her mother and say to herself,
How can such a beautiful woman be so ugly inside and carry so many demons in her?
She could never understand it.

River would be asleep some nights, but would wake up to hear loud panting and moaning coming from her mother's bedroom. Sometimes there would be as many as four or five guys who'd come visit her mother for sex in one night.

River was thirteen when her mother forced her to lose her virginity to a man who was in his late fifties. He was willing to pay Sheryl one thousand dollars for one night with her daughter. He wanted to be the first to fuck River, because he'd never had a virgin before.

Of course her mother agreed to the transaction, and, scared to suffer her wrath, River reluctantly agreed to fuck him.

River remembered his body being shapeless and hairy. He was bald, average height, and had a short fat dick. River got out of her nightgown as the man was sprawled out butt-naked on her mattress. His body disgusted her. But she blocked out the appalling image and continued to get on with it.

Her mother stood off in the corner, quiet and watching her daughter go on.

“Go ahead, River, he don't have all night,” Sheryl said from the dark corner.

At thirteen, River's body was developing quite nicely in the right
areas, and her mother was aware of that. The man in the room, Mr. Charles, had been begging dearly for a night with her daughter. At first he offered Sheryl a hundred dollars, but she turned him down, saying, “She's only a virgin once. You need to come higher if you want to be the first to fuck my daughter.”

A week later he came with the offer of five hundred, but she turned him down again. Two days later, he offered her a thousand dollars for one night. Sheryl smiled and agreed.

Mr. Charles used to watch River leave for school on the mornings she actually went. He used to stare out his window at River and watch her walk past his house with his pants around his ankles and his dick clutched in his hand, masturbating.

He had a family, but desired young teenage girls with a fever. After a few quick, hot, and passionate nights with Sheryl for a hundred dollars a fuck, he started telling Sheryl how lovely her daughter was. One thing led to another and now Mr. Charles was having his fantasy come true.

River walked up to Mr. Charles naked. She was stiff as she lay down on the bed next to him. She couldn't even look at him. Mr. Charles leaned in toward her and began nibbling at her ear. His breath was hot, and smelled like cigarettes.

River bit down on her bottom lip, trying to put her mind some where else as she felt Mr. Charles's hand move slowly up and in between her young thighs and settle against her private parts. She tried not to tremble, but his touch was creepy, and a few tears trickled down the side of her face.

He continued to grope and fondle River for a long time, touching every inch of her body, enjoying every minute he had with her. River just continued to lie there motionless, crying softly, and seeing her mother watching her in the corner of her room.

She then felt Mr. Charles grab her hand and move it over to his dumpy fat dick. He pressed her hand against his penis, and made
River masturbate him slowly. For a thousand dollars, he was going to take his sweet time with River, savoring every moment he had with her.

River continued to lie frozen with her hand outstretched, gripping Mr. Charles's erection and jerking him off gradually. She heard Mr. Charles moan with each stroke from her small soft hand.

Forty minutes had passed and now Mr. Charles was ready for the main event. He got up on his knees, pressing heavily down on the mattress, and slowly climbed on top of River, not caring that she was stiff and unemotional, with a blank look on her face throughout the whole ordeal.

He slowly parted her thighs, positioned himself between her legs, grabbed his dick, and carefully inserted his manhood into her innocence—taking away the one thing that she would never get back.

River cried out as she felt his erection opening her up. He pushed more into her, ignoring her loud, painful cries. Moaning with pleasure at feeling how tight she was, he muttered, “Damn, you definitely are a virgin.”

“Ouch . . . ouch . . . ouch,” she wept, as Mr. Charles thrust and thrust himself into her.

“Oh, God . . . shit. Oooh, River . . . I'm so happy that I'm your first,” he proclaimed, as sweat poured from his forehead. “I'm coming.”

River continued to weep, having felt nothing like this before. She wanted it to stop. Mr. Charles rocked back and forth on top of her, fondling her by licking and sucking on her undeveloped breasts, kissing the side of her face, and gripping her butt.

He tore into River with his short erection like crazy. The only thing he cared about was coming. He gripped the sheets as he shouted, “I'm coming!”

A few more thrusts and he came in River, shuddering with relief. He lingered on top of River for a short moment, panting and sweating.

“Damn. Best money I ever spent,” he said before collapsing on his back next to River.

River still lay frozen next to Mr. Charles. She so badly wanted to run into the shower and wash the smell and funk of sex off her. She continued to cry as she peered up at the ceiling.

“How was I?” Mr. Charles asked, glancing at River.

River remained silent. She felt so disgusted and used.

“River, you're done. Get up,” her mother said, looming from out of the shadows. “You can go. Let me talk to Mr. Charles alone.”

River rose quickly, reached for her nightgown, and left the room. She ran for the bathroom to take a long and needed shower. She cried the whole time she bathed, and still cried until she fell asleep next to her young sister.

She wanted to kill Mr. Charles and her mother, but being thirteen, fear made her consider otherwise. But she wanted revenge on Mr. Charles for being a fat, nasty pervert.

After her second encounter with Mr. Charles, River decided to get back at him by writing a letter to his wife, describing in detail his affair with her mother and a certain young girl.

Your husband likes to fuck young thirteen year old girls.
The letter started off and continued in more detail. She gave the times and dates of his affair, and depicted certain marks and characteristics she'd noticed about him during the sex.

Mr. Charles was shocked when his wife read the letter out loud to him, calling him a child molester and a cheating, asshole husband.

Soon after the letter, word in the streets got out that Mr. Charles was a child molester. River made sure to tell everyone she knew about his dirty little secret. An investigation was soon initiated by the police. River's letter caused so much havoc and mayhem in his home and on the block that his wife left him and they began questioning him and many young girls in the neighborhood, and came to find out that River wasn't the first young girl that Mr. Charles had had sex with.

But before the cops could question River and her mother, Sheryl took her daughters and moved away from the block. But life was still the same for River and her sister no matter where they moved.