"So we face each other, finally. Once again, I might add."

"I see that. Didn't need your verbal confirmations."

"I was simply making a transaction."

"With expired information."

"Is that what you think?"

"I think about how I feel. I never expose the feeling, not even with the look on my face."

"You always gave good face throughout your ordeals. You've been raped, fucked, beaten, accused, spat on, drugged, stripped, incarcerated and you live with HIV and you still fall on your knees and say I love you God. My faith is in you."

"And that bothers you?"

"Yes. It does. How do you remain faithful to God when he abandoned you?

"Because I was forced into religion so I never loved God, initially. It was never my choice so who was God to love? I was too young to understand love for myself let alone loving a God I never saw and couldn't see and we can't question him either and he was a jealous God. He would take away any and everything you put above him and you talked about loving God? So I didn't
have faith in God when I was young. Who has to be forced into someone's programmed faith to love something you couldn't see?"

So peril was my reality at the time. Grown men secretly violated me when I was eight years old. I suffered in silence.

One of those times my best friend and I was nine years old when I was assaulted in the bushes, down the street from Pine-Villa Elementary. I'd just turned nine that June.

I was playing hide and go Seek. My best friend was counting. When I ran in the bushes I was snatched by two grown niggahs.

"I heard you're a faggot!"

"MAMA!" I was terrified.

"Pharoah I'm coming to find you!"

Another grown man pulled down my shorts, sniffing my underwear and the third tried to shove his dick in my mouth. Where he came from beats me.

When I wouldn't open my mouth he pissed all over me. The stinkiest piss I'd ever smell. I mean crack head piss didn't smell that foul!

He covered my mouth, the second pushing me to the ground.

He spread my delicate center and they all were spitting inside me, each taking turns fingering me.

I was screaming as loud as I could in his hand, restrained and socially incarcerated through the failure of Goulds, Florida...

I was helpless/hopeless, with a gang of fight in me but no way to channel it.

One of them spoke. "You're trying to scream for Mommie?"

Yes!

"No, no, no...he screams for God to help him. S.O.S! Help!"

I'm not calling on God! MAMA!

The first slid up in me, slowly grinding deep. The tears came from the pain, but quickly dissipated when the pleasure of sex activated what step daddy been encoding in me since I was six years old.

My hips moved to his rhythm.

"Gahdamn! Damn he can take dick. A fucking eight year old!"

I was trying to say please, but I couldn't. I cried so hard I screamed against his sweaty, open palm.

The sunlight (shaded in areas) shining down on him inside me. The pine needles trickled with the frequency of oak and
palm tree leaves comprising the Garden of Hell.

When they were done my best friend said,

"FOUND YOU PHAROAH!"

And I closed my eyes when those grown men made him slide up in me.

And my best friend fucked me.

Against his will.

When it was over I moaned...tired, beat, fucked and drained. Nut inside me, spilling from my rear. It was all over my back mixed with dried piss that had my tenderized skin itching like poison oak.

My best friend refused to meet my eyes. I tried my hardest to stand up, but I kept falling on my stomach.

My ass was sore and in pain. but I took it. I tried to stand up again and I did this time, holding on the tree.

My best friend rushes up to help me and I spit at him.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He held up his hands. "Shhh, Pharoah..."

"You let them hurt me! I thought you were my friend?"

"They made me!"

"You should have helped me fight!"

"They were fucking you! Eye was in shock!"

"You coulda got a pipe and beat them off me! There's an oily one right there by that buggy!"

His head lowered. I was scared of him, but I
wouldn't show it. I been trying to fight grown men off (and out) my ass since I was six.

I hadn't died yet. I'm still here, going through shit.

"I'm sorry."

"Eye hate you get away!"

"You're my only friend! They made me!"

"I hate you. I don't wanna be your friend. You're not very nice."

"Please!" He rushed up to me and grabbed me, trying to hug me. I fought him with all my might. I still didn't pray to God.

"Please! NO MORE! PLEASE!"

"Pharoah I'm sorry. I'm trying to be your friend. I love you!"

He held me tighter, not letting me go. He weakened me out. I started crying, "I want Mama!

He pats my back. "You got me. And I promise you. Anybody mess with you, on my life I will kill them."

We spit on each other's hand and shook.

A pact.