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Sunday, March 24, 2013

Derrik's Mom


To give you an idea
of what she was wearing


I did all I ever could to prevent this day from coming. I thought I had done the impossible. I thought I had managed to raise a son who would rise above all the bullshit that is just standard here, but I suppose I raised one more little asshole.

I’m a single mom, and I’ve worked at Sam’s Diner since I was 15 years old, and that has been about 16 years ago. I got pregnant with Derrik when I was 14, and of course I’ve been beled the town whore ever since. No one asked me who the dad was, and I never told… It’s not like it matters, even if I told, no one would have believed me. Not a single person in this town wants to find out that a member of the football team fucking raped me.

I was a Jr. High nobody. I was about the plainest girl in the world, and when Jay paid me a little attention... I thought my life was finally going the right direction. Finally someone noticed me, and not just anyone: a Senior. Not just any senior, a football player. In a school with a grand total of 800 students k-12, that is a big deal. He was every girl’s dream, well every jr. high girl’s dream. Looking back he was never really a hit with the high school girls, and now I know why, but it’s a little late now.

The first time he raped me was in the break room slash auditorium, where all the school plays were performed. He took me backstage and said I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. My heart skipped a beat when he called me a woman. I’d never been called a woman before. The next thing I knew he was whispering “let me in” in my ear and had pressed me against the wall. I remember thinking that I wished he smelled better. I guess he had just left the gym… he smelled like sweat and not good clean sweat, but the smell of old sweat. My head was under his armpit and he had me pressed hard against the wall. I kinda liked it in a weird way, but I had no idea what was coming next.

He pressed his hand between my legs; no one had ever done that, and I didn’t like it. He looked at me and said, “don’t you want to make me happy?” Of course I did, I mean, he was my chance to stop being a nobody. He was 19, and I was 14. I felt so lucky and terrified; what exactly would make him happy? I was feeling some odd, good and horrible sensations. I wished he would move his hand and his armpit. I don’t know how long he held me against the wall when I pushed back against him and the bell rang. He may have been able to miss class, but I wasn’t a football player, and my parents were quick with a belt if I got in trouble at school.

As I bent down to pick up my backpack he said “I thought you wanted to make me happy”, I said, "I do, but I don’t know how." He said, "be still and you will." He pulled my jeans down and laid me face down into the mats the cheerleaders used for practice. They smelled like foam, plastic and floor wax. I told him to stop please and that we needed to talk. He said “don’t you care about me?” I said, "yes," and he said, "then show it."

By this time I didn’t like anything that happened. I was terrified I didn’t know what he was doing. I knew I could barely breathe because he was holding my head in the mats, my ass was bare, and I was trying to pull my jeans back up, but he wouldn’t let me. I was crying, and he said “be quiet or we’ll get in trouble.” I didn’t care. I wanted him to stop, but I couldn’t say a word. I was shocked. I felt his penis, and he had tried to shove it inside me, but I held my legs as tight as I could. He was only able to get it in-between my thighs. I don’t know how long it lasted. He left his disgusting juices in between my thighs. I wanted to die.

I felt so dirty. I went to the bathroom and used the hand soap to scrub myself. I vomited in the trash can in the bathroom. I sat on the cold tile floor and cried. I didn’t know what had happened or why. I didn’t want that. I didn’t even know what that was. I couldn’t get rid of the feeling of his thing forcing itself between my thighs, thank god it didn’t go where he had intended. I don’t know if this was rape or what. I know it felt like rape, but he didn’t get into my…private area.

Ms.Bell the Spanish teacher found me in the bathroom and asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine, but felt a little sick. She asked if they needed to call my parents and I said, "no." I would get in trouble for getting sick at school. They both were at work and couldn’t afford to miss any. Things were tight financially at the house. I said, "no," again, and she went to the office with me. I don’t know how she knew something bad had happened, but I get the idea she did.

She told the office that she needed my help in her classroom. She walked me to her room which was a mobile home that they had converted to a classroom. People bitched about them a lot, but they weren’t any worse than the rest of the school. She sat me at the table in the back of the class and gave me a hug. She always had a sense for when things weren’t right. She wasn’t from here, but she cared about us in a ways the teachers who were from here couldn’t. It was like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.

As Jay got more aggressive, I dreaded seeing him. When people were around he would pay me special attention, it made me sick to my stomach. I began to dress more and more shabbily. I just wanted to be invisible. I quit caring about anything. My grades slipped. It cost me several belt bruises, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel the beatings from my dad. My mom kept saying it was all hormones, "teenagers these days are just like this," she would tell my dad. My brothers and sisters were all trying to figure their own way out. As many of us as there were piled in the house, you would think we would know each other better, but we didn’t.

We were all to be quiet, pray and never ever complain. That was especially true for us girls. The more depressed I got, the more we went to church. Dad decided we had moved away from god, and suddenly we were going to church 3 times a week instead of just on Sunday morning. Dad decided that we were living for the devil. He moved us to a different church on the other side of town, and the next thing I knew all the girls had to wear dresses, and there was talk of pulling all of us out of school.

Leaving school was what I wanted more than anything. Jay was at school… He didn’t touch me again like that for months, but then…it happened… Everyone was on a field trip. I never got to go; you don’t go if you’re poor, and we were poor. We looked poorer now that us girls had to wear the ugliest dresses on the planet in order to be modest. I was in Ms. Bell’s room, and she was in the teacher’s lounge making copies and talking to other teachers. She told me to come get her if I needed anything.

Jay saw me in her room alone through the window. He came in and said, “it seems like you’ve been avoiding me.” I didn’t say a word. Maybe if I just stayed silent he would go away or think I was stupid. He came closer and I could smell that gut clenching filth again. His smell made me nauseous now. He said, "you know Ms. Bell is talking to Mr. Kelly, so she’s going to be awhile." I still said nothing. He was coming closer, and I felt tears burning in my eyes.

He came up to me and pressed his mouth to mine. I closed my mouth as tight as I could, and his salvia ran down my chin. It was disgusting, but I wasn’t letting him near me. His breath smelled like rotten fish, and his saliva was sticky, and it made the worst sound ever when he was trying to force his mouth on mine like the sluping noises calves make when you bottle feed them.

I crossed my arms over my chest to block him, but he was way too strong. He said he couldn’t control himself around me. He asked me why I did this to him. The nerve! How could he say I was doing anything? He pushed me to the floor, and I pulled my legs to my chest. I was trying to keep him out. Looking back, I should have attacked him, but I thought if I just keep him out, he’ll go away. He pulled my dress up and pushed my underwear to the side. This was way worse than the last time. He was touching me and his hand was in my private area.

I tried to beg him to stop, but he just put his mouth over mine all the time pulling my legs down and apart with both his hands. I couldn’t move my arms; his chest had them pinned to my chest. I tried to wiggle them free, but he just pushed harder. He forced my legs apart, and this time he forced himself in my private area. He was clumsy, and his penis hit everything, but my private area to begin with, and I thought this would be like the last time. I just had to hold my legs together, and he would miss. He didn’t this time. He hurt me. My private parts were burning, and I felt something tear. When it was over he said “you’ve gotta quit making me crazy girl."

What did I do to him? I ran to the bathroom again and vomited over and over again. When I went into the stall, I realized I had blood inbetween my legs and some was on my dress. I sobbed. I cried more than I ever had. My chest hurt. When I was washing my privates in the stall, I saw were his handprints were on my thighs and my face was red from his nasty stubble and spit. I stayed in the bathroom until the bell rang to go home. No one noticed this time.

I rode the bus home alone, everyone else was still on the field trip. When I got home I took a shower, as hot as the water would go, and scrubbed my body with mom’s pumice stone. I scrubbed until my skin was raw trying to get rid of what had happened.

It was about 6 weeks later when I realized something was very wrong. As much as I wanted to forget that day, I never would. I missed my period, and I had vomited every day for 2 weeks, morning, noon and night. My breasts were sore, and I knew…I was going to have my rapist's baby. I remember when my sister Jill got pregnant… I knew what pregnancy consisted of, and I knew I was pregnant.

I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know who to tell what. No one would have believed me. When I started showing, my Dad beat me for being a whore. He went to the preacher, who decided I must raise this child. It was decided for me that I was dropping out of school, and I was raising a baby. They all thought I would live with them, but I decided that wasn’t going to happen. I was about to turn 15 and would be 15 when the baby came. I was going to do this, and I was going to do this on my own.

I went to Ms. Bell and told her I was pregnant. That was it, nothing else, and asked her if she knew where I could get any help. She called DHR, and oh boy, did all hell break loose then!

Well, no use crying over that. I have bigger problems now. My son is showing signs of being like that monster. I’ve always prided myself on making sure he was nothing like that, but working at the diner I hear everything. I know my son was using his girlfriend for sex, and I know he was bragging about it. I just hope he didn’t, god I can’t bear the thought. If he did to her what that monster did to me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I love Derrik, but if he is like that person…

I know it’s not the best thing, but a cigarette and a shot of whiskey may help me sleep through the night. Tomorrow I have to have a talk with my son.


  1. no one should have to go through that EVER forced birthers have no empathy for young women in this woman's situation only comments about how access to abortion wouldn't have "unraped her". No it wouldn't but it also wouldn't have given her the CHOICE to proceed with her pregnancy, it could have helped her avoid being abused by her father for being thought of as a whore. Women deserve to have the power to make those choices. I had a teen tell me, who I didn't know until that day her child was a product of rape, "those people don't understand that everyday you love your baby and hate your baby at the same time you don't want to but you do and it's not fair they shouldn't get to choose for me." She was in tears.

  2. the time to have a conversation with a child from such an encounter is when the child is old enough to understand (roughly about 12)...doesn't mean you can't have it now tho. make sure he understands he is not the problem, yet...but you will not tolerate such behavior nor will you pay for bail or lawyers when a girl is not as forgiving or timid as you were.