Page 45 of The Filth Kings II

“No sex until marriage because you don’t want any babies out of wedlock.” My shoulders dropped at the delusional speech my mom always gave me.

“You are correct! Now let me be, I’m working.” She quickly turned away from me to continue her daily activities of drinking until she passed out and chain smoking until she coughed up a new lung.

I quickly walked to my room to gather all of my items for school. I only had one friend; her name was Stephanie. I had a crush on her, but I could never tell her that. Everybody else already looked at me like I was a clown, something foreign and just crazy. It was evident in my strong facial features that I was a boy. The other kids constantly asked me why did I dress like a girl. I never had an answer because it wasn’t by choice or force. I did it because it put my mom in a better mood when I dressed this way.

She always wanted a daughter; I can’t even remember when I started wearing girls clothes. It’s been as long as my mind could remember. Kids assumed that I was gay, just because I dressed like a girl. I tried to get into boys and find something in them that I liked but there was nothing there. As the years went by, I became more and more frustrated. I wasn’t fat, I was thin, and my small muscles started to form underneath my arms.

I looked in the mirror every chance I got and the more I eyed myself the more disgusted I became. Each time I saw my reflection, it felt like I was looking at someone else. Someone who didn’t belong, or fit, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that this was okay, and it was the best for me. Mom loved me, and maybe if I continued to make her at least a little bit happy, it would help her stop drinking and chain smoking. I constantly told myself these things but ended up angry about it all at the same time.

I had breasts that looked like nubs. Mom bought me sports bras and that fueled my anger even more. It seemed like she wanted to remind me every day that I would never be allowed to just truly be myself. Why couldn’t she just let me be who I wanted to be? I hated that it was starting to make me despise and not like her. So many questions pounded in my head, and I always went back to when I was young and terrified of my father Impurity.

The way he used to eye me evilly, how he never uttered a word to me. Mom protected me from him and when we both got kicked out, it haunted me… even now. I had nightmares of him cutting her while I watched. That deep cut of him having her skinned was still raw looking on the back of her neck. I missed my big brother and wondered if he was okay. Detavio loved me and never treated me differently. He accepted and protected me, even when I didn’t know it. I knew it now and I wished that mom brought him along with us.

I never believed the things that she said about my brother. She always said that he was the devil just like my father. He cut people’s organs out and hurt innocent women. If it was true, I blamed it all on Impurity. I wasn’t allowed to mention their names or she’d spiral out of control.

I’ve tried to express myself once to her, I wanted to mention to her that I didn’t like wearing the dresses. I pumped myself up on my birthday to tell her that I wasn’t her daughter and to proudly say that I was her son. My name wasn’t Octavia, it was Octavio.

I failed at ever saying it, the words got stuck in my throat. Soon as I laid eyes on her that day, I didn’t want to face the weight of her disappointment. She wouldn’t listen, even if I did say it. Mom never fuckin’ listened. Most of the time, she acted like she was fully aware by smiling at me. I started to grow addicted to that look of proudness in her eyes. She molded me into the perfect girl.

I told myself every day that I was a boy. It was becoming hard to contain the anger and darkness that pulsed through me time after time. I wanted to unleash something inside of me that I feared. It was something that I knew was destructive and would demand her to accept me. I stood in front of my mirror, quiet and alone with my reflection. I wished and prayed for my freedom.

“Octavia! You’re going to miss your damn bus!” She yelled and slurred out loudly.

Present…

“That sick ass bitch!” Detavio bellowed.

His face was twisted with anger as I rocked back in forth to console myself. Jalissa used to make me feel underneath the earth low. I wanted her to love me in a different way but never captured it. I loved her so much and hated her at the same time. I was free of her as a grown man but still felt the damage to all that she did to me growing up.

“It doesn’t define you now,” Monster spoke; he stood next to me.

His huge hand covered my shoulder and squeezed. I didn’t hide my tears that fell down my cheeks because they felt good to release. Infront of my big brothers, they felt like my guardian angels. I let it all out and refused to keep it close to my heart anymore. I had to teach myself the basics of being a man. Study my own gender and make it into my own. When Rylie took control of me, I felt free in a sense. She made me feel accepted, like she understood it all.

I enjoyed women, but didn’t know how to dominate. I had a soft ass voice, breasts and spread hips from all the hormonal pills that I was forced to take growing up. The room was quiet, not peaceful quiet but watchful and intense. I sunk deep into my lazy boy seat as my chest tightened; my hands were limp on the armrest, my mind half-gone. This is what happened every time I thought of Jalissa. It was the realization of her having a sick love instead of a motherly love for me.

Monster kneeled right beside me like gravity got too heavy for him. He bowed his head low, his hands started to shake.

“Are you about to have an attack?” Detavio sat up on the couch, getting ready to spring into action for Monster.

Monster shook his head no, as the shaking in his hands intensified.

“Being violated beyond your own control does not define who you are today…it took me a long time to come to that conclusion. All of this shit stained our souls…what our parents did…but they don’t deserve to keep living inside of us.” His raspy, deep voice cracked.

“Being violated—broken…does not define who the fuck we are,” he repeated.

Monster picked his head up and looked me in the eyes.

“I was a kid, maybe even a baby…I don’t know exactly the age it all started but I know from the age that I can remember. They passed me around like I wasn’t human…like I was something to be…used.” His painful words trailed off.

Air left my lungs as I watched him swallow down hard. I looked over at Detavio and his face looked devastated.

“I hated myself for not fighting harder…It happened again and again…I can’t even tell y’all how many men or women had me…but I know how weak and worthless I felt. Every time someone touched me after that, even when it wasn’t violence, I couldn’t feel anything but filth. I questioned a lot the older I got, until I came to realization of some things. Nobody can control or hurt me anymore. I’m in control and I have the power. I also understand what silence costs. All we can do is move forward, Octavio. We are fortunate to have each other to pick up and put together the broken pieces of our past traumas. I never told a soul besides you two and Natavi. I only told her because she’s my better half. My other half, my soulmate. Just like that…” He snapped his fingers.

“The image that you had of me…untouchable, savage as fuck, and immovable—was once fractured in a fucked up way.” He stood to his feet and went to take a seat.

“I don’t see you in a way that makes you less than…I see you as still being here after everything. Your still breathing, still fighting to stand tall in a world that tried to crush you, and at that time you were too small to push back. There’s no judgement, but I feel for you big bro. Just like the both of you feel for me,” I said from the bottom of my heart.

I stood up because I had no other words. I walked over to where he sat and reached out. My hand rested over his trembling fist. I took a seat next to him and remained quiet. Detavio slowly placed his hand over Monster’s right hand. We all sat silent like that for a while, three brothers, all broken, but at least our silence spoke volumes.

---