I was probably in the first grade when it happened, we lived in this dump ass apartment complex in the Mt. Airy section of Philadelphia. We went to a very cute school, which I attended for nine years, from kindergarten until the eighth grade it even bared my last name Henry H. Houston. It was a crazy night, I remember her drinking her ass off, as I type this my heart is pounding out of my chest and I am actually becoming fearful all over again, I can even smell the stench of the
alcohol. Well I was grabbed by my neck because she had picked up a cassette tape case in which I had been listening to, I don’t remember who the rappers were I believe it was something like Heavy D and the boys, they were a male rap group. She picked it up and started calling me a little “dyke” as she started punching me, so much that I was crying uncontrollably, from that I began to vomit. She dragged me to the bathroom all the while screaming about how she was going to kill me. The vomit came out so watery, with such force it missed the toilet an went all over the floor along side of the tub. She hit me some more but the fact that I was covered in vomit made her push me to the floor punching me in my back several times. I was told to clean it up not in those nice of words, but I was told to lick it up “EAT IT MOTHER FUCKER EAT IT ALL!” she screamed. She stood above me as I started to lick it than she kicked me as she left the bathroom, headed to her room where she had been beating my sister. When she left the bathroom I could hear her hitting my sister it sounded horrible. I could hear her hands making contact with my sister’s flesh, the breath leaving her body with every blow, she screamed so loud with every hit. I grabbed the toilet paper and begin to wipe my eyes for I was crying so badly I couldn’t even see. I used the paper to quickly wipe up the vomit, I stopped for a moment, stood in the hallway leading to my mother’s room, I wanted to kill her, I wanted to do something I wanted her to stop, my sister at this time was beat so badly her crying stopped. I could see the shadow of my sister along the hallway wall, her messy her, her head being hit from side to side. My heart pounded as I went back to the bathroom only to vomit
again I cleaned up the rest of what was on the floor. The beating stopped it seemed to last, for hours, my sisters face was a mess of bloody flesh completely swollen. She looked like a stranger to me, I remember thinking doesn’t anyone hear this shit why is no body, coming to check on us or even calling the police to fucking help us? We went to school a few days later, but not to be saved no one there did a damn thing even after seeing my sister’s face.
I was only in the first or second grade when this happened, it wasn’t the last nor did it end anytime soon after that night. I guess it was my first lesson in life that lead me to believe that some people just had shitty lives from that moment on I hid from people what my life was really like. Very few friends got to come to my home or see the way I lived outside of school. Which probably was why when I became an adult I tried so hard to pretend to be somethings that I just wasn’t.
