Page 44 of The Filth Kings II

“I did…I don’t know, it’s just something about her that feels so familiar. It’s clear that she suffers from impulsive behavior, she has mental issues that she can’t help which is why I try my best to be patient with her.” Octavio confessed.

“Well, aren’t you such a gentleman.” I chuckled out.

“I mean, I couldn’t treat her fucked up. She was here the next day after she broke into my house…my mind was clouded after I—I mean she, fucked the shit out of me. I never had what she gave?—”

“Wait!” Detavio held his hand up.

“You let that broad dominate you?” He bunched his brows together.

“I did…it felt right. It’s hard to explain but before y’all came…I rushed home to tell her to go.”

I noticed when something bothered Octavio, he’d tug at his beard hairs.

“Why? I would have liked to meet her.” I retorted truthfully.

“I got here, and she switched my entire living room around.” He held his hands out for emphasis.

“Then she went into rare form. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. She called me by the name Jalissa gave me growing up.” His eyes left mine as he looked at nothing in particular.

“What name is that?” Detavio asked.

“She called me Octavia…” He bowed his head.

“It was the name Jalissa enrolled me under at school. In her eyes, I was the little girl that she always wanted. Till this day, I don’t know if it was because she didn’t want me to be like you guys since that’s what she preached about all of the time. Growing up, I never knew what it was like to wear boy clothes or even use my real voice. I went along with it all because I didn’t have much of a choice. I look at regular men and wish that I possessed the masculinity that y’all have. When I tried, it all seemed forced, down to trying to capture my masculine voice. Kids didn’t fuck with me growing up, I had a friend here or there…most of them were girls that just felt sorry for me. The older I got, the more confused I became…I remember…” Octavio stopped talking to look up at me and Detavio.

“Let it out bro, this is what we have each other for. Natavi told me that it’s good to talk about the past rather than hold it in,” I told him, wanting him to relieve himself of any painful memories that troubled him.

“If I say this…will you tell me about how certain shit made you feel in Thailand. I feel like you should trust us as well, Monster. We not here to judge but to help each other heal.” Octavio eyed me seriously.

“I will… now tell me.” I swallowed down my own emotions.

Chapter21

Octavio

The Past…

“Mommy, am I pretty like you want me to be?” I looked up at my mother hesitantly.

I felt weak from the medicine that I just consumed to help with the pain of my mind overworking itself like my mom always said it did. I waited for her response. Seconds later she offered no response. She pecked away at her laptop fast and impatiently as she mumbled underneath her breath. Mom paused for twenty seconds to hit her cigarette. She took a long pull from it then set it in the ashtray. She eyed her half-filled bottle of vodka suspiciously as I held in my breath. I prayed that she didn’t accuse me again of sneaking her liquor.

“Mommy!” I yelled so she could hear me better.

“What, Octavia?” She looked away and stared at me through blood-shot eyes.

“I asked am I pretty like you want me to be today?” I dropped my eyes and turned back to the mirror.

I glanced at myself and wasn’t satisfied enough. Today was my fourteenth birthday and I had this lingering sadness holding me back from feeling happy. My reflection felt like betrayal as I eyed myself up and down. Mom said that some of the pills that she gave me was supposed to help with suppressing my masculinity, but I wanted to see just what that was.

I hated the way my sunflower dress clung to my body, the way it brushed against my skin. It reminded me of all the expectations mom had of me. It was never what I wanted. Everything had to be the way that she expected it to be. My job was to make her happy. At times I wanted to make her happy, but it left me feeling like I’d never get to know what my own happiness felt like.

Since I was too young to remember, I had always been mommy’s little girl. Her soft and delicate princess. Anything I did that reminded her of me being a boy sent her into a rage that I grew petrified of over the years.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Octavia! Of course! You are way too beautiful, baby. All of the boys at school are going to be in love! What did I tell you about boys, though?” She asked as her eyes grew wild and dark.

“No boys until I’m eighteen.” I sighed, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

“What else?” She slurred as her thin arched brows raised.

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