raggedshirt

Stories

2008-09-24T08:58:00.002-04:00

There was total darkness, and insufferable cold. There was no sound. There was nothing but the crawly feeling of unwashed skin and the smell of urine and excrement. My own. But when you feel so hungry and hurt, smell and feel don't reall matter.

There was blinding light when they opened the door. I didn't know that they'd open the door. Just felt the pain of the light splitting my head apart. Flashes come to and fro. Sometimes I felt the cold of water. Other times I felt people holding me. All other senses were not quite there. Like I was in a dream

But I knew I was not in a dream. Because I found myself here. I couldn't really feel myself. It was dirty. The ground was wet. There was trash everywhere. I looked at my bare feet forever. As I looked, the feeling came back to them. They were cold. Freezing cold. Then I felt all the other things. Pain. Hunger. Thirst. Cold all over.

I tried to stretch out my arms. I couldn't feel them. But they were there. Stretch out in front of me. But they didn't look like mine. Two arms, wrapped in ragged sleeves that used to be white but were now a yellowy brown, with patches of dried blood and black. There was a broken mirror leaning against a wall, amidst trash of unimaginable filth. A man stared back at me. I didn't know who he was. He had matted hair and a week's growth of stubble. He was in filthy rags. Bits of raggedy longjohns peeked out from a pair of jeans that had more holes than material. There were stains in the crotch. The longjohn top he had on was the only piece of clothing that looked whole, and even that had ragged sleeve ends.

I walked closer to the mirror and touched his face. The man in the mirror mimicked my move. I stared stupidly for the longest time at him, wondering at the state that a person could fall to. Then it dawned on me that I was looking at myself.

I didn't know where I was. My ribs were throbbing more and more. I couldn't lift my left arm and I somehow couldn't walk without a limp. And I smelt. Of urine and shit and blood.

It was then that I started to cry.

And that was where they found me that night, semi-conscous.

I've been in the hospital since.

When I went home, he was there first. He left me one set of clothes. The rest he burnt. He's moved in. And I am no better than a slave. Worst off, perhaps.

But I stay because of the kids. I don't know what he'd do to them if I went away.

Violated

2008-02-05T02:18:00.000-05:00

There is a gang of thugs who hang out in the alley near....well, that alley way. They lay in and wait for me when they can. They don't rob me. What's there to rob anyway? But when they are bored, they push me around a little, bruise me a little. Last Saturday, I made the mistake of telling them to back off.

This time, they beat me up - 5 big guys and little me, who can't fight to save my life. They were going to rip off my clothes and leave me naked in the cold. They got through my jacket and were shredding me and my shirt up pretty good. I was pretty far gone by then, numbed by so much fear that I hardly felt the split lip, swollen eye and other bruises all over.

Later, when I came to, she told me they were slamming me against the wall when her brothers came out from their diner and pretty much beat the crap out of those boys. They let go of me pretty quick.

I come round and help them out whenever I can. I'd like to work for them. They are decent folks. But I'm not very sure how I could get out of my job at my current place. They pay me extra sometimes. They call it a sparring partner. Me, spar? It's more like beat-up dummy.

Well, we'll see. It's not like there's only one of me. There's the kids. I need the money.

My Christmas Present

2004-12-15T20:53:00.000-05:00

I got a really wonderful Christmas present this year. For all that is not going in my life, I am the happiest man in this city today. The courts have given me legal custody of my nieces and nephew. Ben got himself arrested. I'd always thought he'd get busted for pushing drugs or burglary or worse. He was lucky I guess. He assaulted a police officer. It could have been worse.

Anyway, he'd been on the wrong side of the law so many times, family services started noticing that I'm the one who keeps showing up for the kids. So they investigated. And when Ben got arrested this time, it was the last straw for him. It makes no difference to me, I've been taking care of the kids for five years. I'm just really thankful that I now have full legal custody over them, being the only living relative they have, and having proven that I have been providing for them almost all their lives. Ben's wife, Gena, died when the youngest was born. I hate to think what Ben would've done with them and to them if I weren't there to turn his attention to me. There's three of them. Jeannie is 10, Sara is 7, and Peter is 5. They're great kids. I wish I had a camera so I can put their photo up here. They're my life.

Back to Ben and his arrest. I got the call to go down to the precinct. Actually two officers came to my home and brought me to see him. My place is a ways out of the city, and I don't have a phone. Ben had asked for me. He told them I would post bail. I couldn't. I work two jobs just to keep this place and the kids going. Ben's always thought I have cash hidden under the floorboards. I wish I did. Ben made a lunge for me when I told him I didn't have the five thousand dollars for his bail. At 6 foot 3, and 220 pounds of mostly muscle, my brother Ben angry is a frightening sight. Me, I'm 5"7, and not more than 164lbs dripping wet. I just stood rooted there to the floor as he came at me. I don't know what would've happened if two equally big uniformed officers weren't there to drag him back. He didn't really get me, but I got a few scratches on the neck. There was a plainclothes officer there who watched the whole thing. He kept looking at me at first. It made me a little uncomfortable. But then he came over after and offered me a ride back home.

Not too long after that, I got a visit from family services, and then had a few more interviews with them, mostly with the kids present. And before I knew it, that was it. The kids are mine. Ben is in jail. He'll be out before too long. But he can't take the kids away from me legally anymore. That was always my biggest fear, that he would just up and leave with the kids.

I'm really happy about this. So I took the day off and brought the kids to the library, which is why I have time to post today. For all the other things that are not right and not great, I am still a happy man today. Merry Christmas one and all!

Recalling

2004-10-05T23:29:00.000-04:00

Life is often funny in a cruel way. I was the good son. I did all the right things. I went to college. But my brother was the one that got away with everything. I don’t resent my lot in life. I just wonder why I bother to be nice and decent when doing good always backfires on me.

There were two of us – my brother, Ben, and me, Christopher. I was the older of the two, the firstborn. But Ben was always the stronger one – the aggressor. The old man loved him. He hated me. Because I reminded him too much of my mother. We both suffered at the hands of the old man though. He’d wake us up in the middle of the night after hitting my mother. She’d be sobbing in their bedroom and he’d come over and flick his cigarette butt at us. The one who got burnt was the lucky one, because he’d kick the other one off the bed. He’d yell at us for being useless and for costing him money to feed and clothe. The next day, we’d go to school with black eyes or bruised bodies. I don’t remember when getting beaten up was an exception. I feared him, and I feared for my mother. Ben turned to anger, and he started becoming more and more like our father.

Ben found solace in being the school bully, and later on, the leader of the high school gang. I found solace in books and withdrew into myself. And mom, well mom found solace in me, because I was the quiet one, the thoughtful one.

By the time I was 16, and Ben, 14, our paths took the final turn that would keep us apart for the rest of our lives. Miss Rogers, the teacher who nurtured me and helped me survive that time, believed I was eligible for college because I’d been skipping ahead of the rest of my year a few times. I sat for the exams, and I got into college. Not long before that, Ben had started running for a local drug dealer. And he had his own gang, did drugs, sold drugs in school and packed a gun.

It was a full scholarship, but I stil had to commute to and from campus. Between classes, I worked at Mr Cho’s grocery store at the intersection. He was a nice Korean guy who’d moved to the States a long time ago. He treated me well. Sometimes, he’d invite me for dinner with his family. His son, Robert, became a good friend. It wasn’t until much later that I realized those invitations came always when fresh bruises on me could be easily seen.

This bringing back a lot of memories. And for all that much of that remembering is painful, it is therapeutic at the same time.

Why am I at the library today, writing this? Because Ben came back last night and beat the shit out of me. He wants money. I don’t know why, I thought he was doing pretty well for himself pushing drugs and pimping.

I looked in the mirror this morning, and a ghost gazed back at me. I can’t shave because there’s a big cut where Ben slammed the tray into me. There’s clotted blood at my nostrils. But my moustache is semi hiding that. I look like the wreck that I’m describing here.

The Beginning

2004-10-02T01:14:00.000-04:00

I am not quite sure why I started this blog. I suspect it's because I've hit bottom and I have nowhere else to turn to.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

My name is Christopher Richardson. I am 47 years old. I live in a trailer park on the outskirts of a city that shall remain nameless for now. I moved here from Florida five years ago to take care of my nieces and nephew. They are my brother's children.

I had a hot dog stand in Tampa, then. It was an okay living.

OK, my back, where I got kicked just now, is really bothering me. I'll continue this some other time. I think I'm going to be sick.

I'm at the library. I don't have my own computer. I'll try and log in again soon. I think I should go lie down now.