Page 25 of Satan's Spawn
“You are a lost cause, Isaiah.” Mommy’s tired voice is next to me.
I let out a pained moan. “What did you do, Mommy? My stomach won’t stop hurting.”
Usually by morning the aches go away, this time it feels like my stomach is on fire.
“This is what it feels like to be denied by your Lord.”
Another moan escapes my lips as I squeeze my stomach tighter. “May I please take a bath?”
“What bath will help you if not a holy one? Last night was supposed to be it, Isaiah.” Her voice is tight with anger. “I did everything right. Prepared you right. But I’m afraid there is no hope for you.”
“Please, Mommy. No more.” I beg as she reaches for the small white bottle of water on my nightstand, sprinkling some on me.
Everything after being forced to eat my oatmeal off the floor last night is a blur, only bits and pieces of what she did to me replay in my head, and I always wonder why it’s the worst things I end up remembering.
My private area is still sore from how much she rubbed it, always saying she has to because it’s where the devil speaks to boys. Makes them do evil things. And it’s her job to pull him out.
Nothing came out, though. She’s never right.
None of this feels right, it only hurts so much.
“There’s only one thing left to do, Isaiah. You left me no choice.” Mommy reaches into her skirt pocket, and pulls out something black. When she flips it open I realize it’s some sort of knife.
“What are you doing with that?” my voice trembles with fear, especially as she runs the tip of her finger along the pointy end.
“Well, the Lord can’t deny you if I take you myself.”
Not liking the sound of that at all, I ignore the terrible pain in my stomach and attempt to crawl off the bed as fast as I can.
Mommy pulls me by my leg and drags me across the dirty mattress, flipping my weakened body over.
“Why fight this, Isaiah? Don’t you want to be saved?”
Only from her.
“Please don’t hurt me.” I plead when she climbs on top of the bed, sitting on my legs.
“How ironic it is to hear you say those words, because they’re exactly what I said to him.”
“To who, Mommy?” I ask as she reaches for the water again to pop the lid open.
She squirts some more on my face, then draws a cross on my forehead as she responds with, “Your father, of course.”
I shootup off the bed, sweat burning my eyes and drenching my neck. When my head swivels to the side, I find Saint standing over me with his arms crossed.
“Dude, this is the fourth night straight I had to wake you out of some nightmare. You good?”
“Fuck off.” I groan as I throw my legs over the bed, standing and pushing past him to pull black jeans and a black shirt out of my nightstand drawer.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” He says behind me, honest but carefully. “You don’t have to keep whatever this shit is bottled inside.”
I doubt he wants this volcano erupting.
“There’s nothing to fucking talk about, it’s a bad dream, I don’t even remember it.” I shove my ball shorts down my legs and step into the jeans. “Let it the fuck go, Lavell.”
The truth is, ever since I laid eyes on that new girl a week ago, I haven’t been able to sleep without nightmares of that psychotic cunt who spit me out. It’s even worse now that I don’t have Raven to spend these restless nights in.
I’ve grown too accustomed to hiding my past to have it haunting me now everywhere I go.
