Chapter 1: Infatuations
I paused looking at my computer screen in anticipation. It had been a while since I opened up and wrote a letter to Dominus PHD, my ski-masked online confidant. His persona made me completely trust him with all of my secrets and I often requested advice. Even though I tried relentlessly, I couldn’t get him to reveal his real age, what he looked like or even the color of his skin. Whatever was his real identity, he listened without prejudice and I told him everything about me openly. Taking confidentiality to the highest level, he became my mentor, the one who never judged me, no matter what I told him. I looked at my keyboard striking the first key to the story of the last few days of my life.
Dear Dominus. How are you? I miss chatting with you, but I have been busy as you will soon find out. I hope you have time to read all this, so pull up a chair with that favorite beverage you told me about. I have so much to say, but I wanted to tell it from my side before my best friend does. I will try to break down the scenario exactly how everything occurred. Where should I start? Oh Yes on Tuesday! In the company of Mr. You-Know-Who, completely lost in his soul…
Staring at the chalk board was not an option. The familiar sight of Mr. Brown’s bulge was hypnotic as he strode across the room. He stood shorter than the average man, about five feet six inches, but his athletic body told a tale of him being an avid gym member. With a trickle of facial hair, his strong jaw was perfectly covered with golden brown skin. My creatively-eager hormone raging eighteen-year-old mind found little in him not to be desired and my thoughts drifted into the unknown.
Finally alone, we stood in front of each other a breath apart, each waiting for the other to make the first move. My faint smile indicated how my brain alienated my body as I felt his every touch, his every breath, and I zealously puckered for a smooch. I had been patiently waiting for this moment for what seemed to be a lifetime, but I didn’t mind, after all, our relationship was complicated. No one would understand what we shared. I leaned towards him, he gently caressed my jaw with his thumb; suspending the moment heightened my senses. I stood closer to him, feeling his heart throbbing excitedly on my perky right nipple through my blouse. With another step, his manhood brushed my pelvis, alerting me to his inner thoughts. He didn’t need to say it but I knew that he loved me with every part of his soul. He sensually winked at me with his right eye, while fixing a part of my hair with his fingers. His warm body was more than enough to excite me to the point of spontaneous eruption with the slightest erotic touch. He teased me with his lips millimeters away from mine, without leaning in for the final smooch. He knew I was too shy to make the first move and capitalized on that. I felt the warmth of his minty breath across my philtrum[1]. Every second gazing into his eyes confirmed his undying love and commitment towards me, even the way he whispered my name made me break into a girly giggle and smile. I didn’t want to seem immature or childish so I quickly composed myself back into the frame of mind needed for this circumstance. He called my name again with that baritone voice that would make any girl melt in his pot like butter. I started to moisten, anxiously crossing my legs rubbing them together.
“Kim! Kim! Kimberly Jones!” His voice was apprehensive.
In such a trance, no words would come out of my mouth but deep inside I mentally answered, “Yes babes, I’m right here”. Drowning in the sea of passion in his eyes, I heard my good friend Shanel Carter calling out my name in unison.
“Kimberly Jones!” Wait a minute, why is she in here with us; this was our moment alone together. Her voice broke my daze, I looked around disturbed that she would actually ruin this memorable moment for me, although she could never know how I felt about him. No emergency would forgive her for this rude interruption. I swept the room in its entirety with fire in my eyes and realized that not only was Shanel present, but all the rest of my friends in the classroom were there, giggling at my midday-dream, complete with my drool trickling down my left arm supporting my head.
I wiped my mouth in embarrassment as I saw my soon-to-be husband staring at me angrily. Reality hit me like the speeding midnight Bridgetown bus from Mangrove. All eyes were on me including those of the sexiest teacher in school. Gawking at him from head to toe, he was actually the sexiest teacher in the whole government public educational system, and he was patiently listening for my answer to his question.
Always a quick thinker, I cleared my throat, “Sorry sir, could you repeat the question one more time please?”
“Kimberly, could you stop daydreaming and pay attention in my class! Stand up and tell the class the answer to the question.”
I began a long winded political answer which basically meant I didn’t know shit. The bell rang and it was the end of the period and the beginning of our lunch break. I stopped mid-sentence and started to put my books in my bag.
“What are you doing Kimberly? Do you think that you are in the U.S.? In Barbados, class is over when I say it’s over and that you can go.”
Sometimes I wished that I was going to a private school instead of this government school. In a private school I would be treated with a bit more class just because of my parents. Government institutions like the one I attended were not so student friendly. Teachers were more set on the strict educational curriculum standards set by the Ministry of Education, instead of recognizing the who’s who in social classes and networks. Mr. Brown continued his ranting.
“Since you are such a big talker and dreamer, I am still waiting for your explanation to number seventeen in your workbook.” Gazing into space with a blank look on my face, Mr. Brown knew I was just clueless. “Kimberly, in my next class, I expect you to know the answer to that question. Class is dismissed, you can go.”
Shanel walked from her desk and whispered in my ear, “Mr. Brown is a blasted pussy, don’t mind him with de big talk.” We laughed and walked outside with tales of lighter times as I girlishly bumped my 36 inch hips against her petite frame.
“I could see yuh mind was in another world. What you thinking about so long and hard girl?” Shanel never missed a heartbeat and always had her eyes locked on my movements. If she wasn’t my friend, she would be scary with her stalker-like tendencies. She would watch me closely and always joked about how if I was her wife, using sexual gestures or any opportunity to slap me on my butt or brush my breasts softly. She tried to pass it off as a joke but the lust in her eyes was real. Outside of the classroom waiting by the door, was Zalika Alleyne my best friend to the end. She was the most outspoken person in our small close-knit cluster. I strolled passed her leisurely, playfully pretending not to see her but she had other plans for the commencement of lunchtime.
“Kimberly, try and blasted hurry up girl. Yuh know Scumbs would get on like a bare idiot, if I have him waiting too long. He paranoid that police is looking to shoot him since he came out of jail… so come let we get to the wall… Now!” Holding my hand dragging me along with her, she left me no choice but to chip at her heels towards the school boundary wall, with Shanel trying to keep up. During school hours we were never allowed outside the compound but Zalika had many acquaintances on the outside. They would meet her and chat through the fence or any broken walls, against the advice of security guards and blatantly breaking the school rules.
“Can we get something to eat first and then meet him? I hungry as shite[2].” My stomach growled in agreement.
“This only going to take a minute. Why yuh getting on so stush, Kim? I thought you got muh back and you is muh ride or die?” Zalika snarled with an unconstitutional jerking of my hand, pulling me faster to keep up the pace.
“Ummm, yuh gonna work for me when yuh mess up muh hand? You real small, but so deadly. No wonder everybody at school does call you ‘Zika’ instead of Zalika.” I honestly wasn’t in the mood to play watchwoman this time, but I only went along as she was my closest friend.
“You already know that people does call me Zika cause I small like a mosquito but I don’t care how big you is, I ain’t afraid to mess you up. You know mosquitoes kill more humans than any in the animal kingdom? Study it!”
We reached the broken wall on the south side of the school, where they were a few dilapidated buildings. Standing there on the outside of the wall was her associate and friend whom she only knew as Scumbs. “Wait close here, I going to talk to him.” Zalika walked away towards the broken section of the wall as Shanel and I kept a keen lookout for the guard who made casual unscheduled rounds around the school compound.
“What going on, Scumbs? Why you always have your face bent like you pissed off?” Zalika remarked.
“Kawblema[3], you got me waiting long as rasshole[4] Zika! You know that I hot and wanted on the streets, and I can’t stick up. A foolish police name officer Kevin Sobers got it out for my blood because I was he girl side man. He tell my anytime he on duty and catch me alone, he will warm up my belly with gunshots and rid Barbados of me. If I dead, how you gonna get your products?”
Scumbs pushed a small money bag through the wired part of the wall and threw a cloth insulated cooler over the top. “I leaving from around here ’cause I avoiding that man. Thirty suck-a-bubbies in the cooler, and seventy five-bags of high grade Bajan ganja in the money bag. I going to pass for what money you collect tomorrow or you can shout me this evening on the block. I got a big shipment coming in soon and the captain of the boat wants his money up front.”
Zalika had gotten herself involved in the illegal drug trading at school and Scumbs was her main connect. At only five feet four inches tall and one hundred and five pounds, a brown skinned, timid and multi-tattooed girl, would never be a suspect in such activities. Her school mates knew her true inner colors, as she was deadly and vicious, not to be played with unless you want to have an after-school interview with Scumbs and his bad boy crew. She lived two miles away from where their gang hung out daily.
Zalika hadn’t always been a bad girl. I remembered she had been a sweet, innocent girl who had loved pink ponies and dreamt of being a real princess. She had naively been hoping to meet her Prince Charming. At that time, she had resided with her grandmother, who had a very successful corner shop attached to the side of her home, built with money she got from a lucrative work negligence payout. Everyone loved and respected Granny Alleyne, even the thugs and undesirables in the neighborhood. Her two children, Shakira, who was Zalika’s mother, and Ricky, Zalika’s uncle, all lived in the midsized traditional Barbadian ghetto chattel family home, helping out in the shop as they sponged off their mother’s success. Their free ride came to a sudden halt when granny just didn’t wake up one morning, the victim of a fatal stroke. Zalika her only grandchild, had taken incomparable care of her and had been the closest to her. Back when granny had been alive, Zalika could have the sun or moon, openly spoilt without apology; seeing the world during regular luxurious vacation trips all over Europe, Canada and America. Zalika’s bank account could humble those of the average adult while Granny was alive, until Ricky stole it all, secretly draining the account through the ATM.
Zalika and I have been friends since I was six years old, and we grew up together in the same class in primary school. With completely different backgrounds, we were inseparable friends. My family was now average middle class citizens while she lived in poverty in the heart of the ghetto. My father was a busy hard-working senior police officer, who took his job a bit too seriously. Even when he was at home, he kept unsolved files in our small library, continuously reading them over trying to find a breakthrough. What made me smile, was if he ever spoke to me about an unsolved case, I could cross reference it with a story that Zalika had previously discussed with me in confidence, where street justice prevailed. She made me swear to secrecy; I dared not break my vow, not even to my father. I always portrayed Zalika to him as a very nice girl who happened to live in a bad neighborhood, so that we could remain friends despite of what he thought of her poor ghetto district. My mother was also a workaholic just like him. She worked as personal assistant to a prominent attorney which filled her schedule with boring high-class social events, which my little six year old brother and I were often dragged to for political appearances. Zalika intrigued me and changed a part of me with her simple down to earth ways and attitude, keeping me in touch with what was really going on in the lower echelons of society. I grew bored of the cossetted living but never wanted to get my hands dirty with the drama associated with her lifestyle. Our friendship grew stronger as we got older, and we made a pact to stick out for each other, no matter what life threw at us.
Granny was the backbone and fiber that had kept Zalika’s family together as a functioning unit. Her death occurred when she was only 52 years old, drove Ricky into heavy drinking and casual drugs to numb the pain. Shakira reverted back into a life of wild partying, bar hoping and seeking love down the wrong avenues looking for Mr. Right. It was customary for days to go by, with her spending time at any potential suitors home who fit her criteria, without looking at the well-being of her child at home. The then twelve-year-old Zalika took it the hardest, Granny was not only a guardian, but also her best friend who taught her their favorite pastime of playing dominoes.
Zalika had to solely depend on her uncle to help her at this point in her life. They played dominoes together at night, in the memory of Granny. Drunken Ricky soon started to look at Zalika as a maturing girl and not as his niece. Her breasts grew perkier and her feminine body contours took form under her translucent nighties. The outcome of the games became betting challenges, where the loser was forced to be a completely submissive slave. For the first few weeks, slave duties included doing unwanted chores, foot and back massages amongst other random spontaneously funny tasks. It graduated into a bondage tickling game, until one night he introduced restrained-blindfolded oral sex like it was also an innocent gesture as part of her slave duties. This continued to escalate with him doing it every night and then finally asking her to return the favor. She refused to pleasure him, and was met with brute force. Her petite body was no match for him as he took her innocence away, repeatedly punishing her unmercifully. She missed a whole week of school because of her bruises and pain while her mother was oblivious to what was happening under the family roof because she was happy in another man’s embrace.
Zalika initially avoided all of my calls because of her shame. My visits were completely supervised by Ricky who cut them short to hide his intentions. She became completely withdrawn, and regularly found excuses to stay over by my house, but Ricky would come for her when he missed her, pretending to be a very concerned guardian. Zalika suffered for months under the thumb of her dictator, until one night he decided that his regular abuse wasn’t enough; he needed to take her anal virginity as well. Forcing her to drink a few shots of brown rum and smoke a joint, he prepared her for the worst. The half-drunk pedophile, overpowered her, tearing her completely open, causing her to bleed profusely. Pissed off that his act was not like he would have intended it to go, he thumped her at the back of her head with the half-filled rum bottle he was consuming, cracking her head wide open.
Zalika could take no more; she pushed him down and ran outside in her nightie with blood running down her legs and the back of her head, and tears flowing like a river from her eyes. She sprinted aimlessly with every bit of energy she had with her eyes half closed. She tripped over a sidewalk landing at the feet of Scumbs, the young notorious gangster in the ghetto. He took her up off the ground, removed his shirt, and wrapped it around her shoulder to keep her warm. Inspecting her head wound, he bandaged it with his scarf. She cried loudly and openly about her current situation, and he let her bellow for a few minutes on his chest without interruption.
Scumbs scanned her from head to toe, taking special note of the blood coming from her the back of her nightie. He borrowed the jacket of his best friend Jeff who was standing a few feet away, to wrap around her waist to hide her painful experience. For the first time in her life, Zalika saw a firearm which was now visible at the waists of both of the barebacked men. Scumbs became her prince charming; and her heart fell for him since he became her tower of strength. He looked at her and nodded the silent signal that everything will be OK. They walked back to her house where Ricky was outside on the step drinking beer. Thinking that Zalika was being returned to him, he got up from his seated position and pretended to be a concerned guardian. He was met with the slap in the face from the handle of Scumbs’ handgun, knocking his front tooth clean out. Scumbs and Jeff beat Ricky relentlessly all about his body with their weapons, while Zalika watched with a quaint smile. Neighbors peeked through their windows and called the police, but by the time they arrived, Ricky’s unresponsive body lay on his front step and the thugs were long gone. Police and the Child Care Board questioned Zalika about what happened, and this was her first lesson in never being a snitch. She never gave up her hero Scumbs or Jeff, even when pressured by her mother who reappeared like the white knight riding to her daughter and brothers rescue.
Ricky took months to recover and Zalika lived with me during that time; eventually she confided in me. She made me promise never to tell a soul what had really happened. She was too proud to even communicate to her own mother about her abusive situation. After Ricky recovered fully from his brutal beating, he eased up from sexually abusing Zalika, but as time went on, he slowly eased back into his old bad, dirty habits. They both still co-resided together at the family house and with no official abuse story; he maintained full care and control over everything. He played his pedophile game like the true hypocritical villain that he was. He knew that forcing her to entertain and satisfy his sexual obsessions would result in another beating by her newly found gangster family, so instead he withdrew everything that she needed to survive. He hid the food in his room that she would never dare venture into. She sat every night in her locked bedroom, looking through the window, hoping for her mother to return home to bring her something to eat or at least to have the money to go to the shop. She had reached her physical and mental limit and an all-time low. Looking up at the spinning roof, her legs gave out under her; her temperature rose and she became delirious after repeated temporary syncope[5]. Using what felt like her last bit of strength, she came out of her secure fortress and begged him for food or anything edible he could give; her only alternative and bargaining chip was to willingly indulge him in any one of his twisted fetishes, just to devour one tin of tuna with a pack of biscuits. This became her only means of survival for her as a child. Tired of feeling dirty and useless, she got the courage to convince Scumbs that she could be an asset to him if he let her sell drugs for him. She could tap into the school market in ways that he couldn’t reach. She used this as her way to escape the reoccurring cycle of abuse from her uncle. Properly financed, she could now avoid Ricky completely locking herself in her fortress, since she would no longer need to beg him for anything ever again.
Dominus, I know I never told you this, but this is the real reason that Zalika sells drugs. Not because she wants to, but this was the only way she could self-sufficiently exist.
