The first lady used to smack me around fo' not washin', but she wasn't careful 'bout where she be leavin' bruises, so she got the boot. The next place, they figured out I was allergic to soap an' gave me back 'cause they wasn't equipped to deal with no "special needs" kids.
The third fam, he touched me. An' you know the kinda touchin' I mean. The bad touch. Close yo' eyes an' open wide. "Do you think it's alright to leave the boy with Uncle Ernie"/"Point to the places on this doll" style. I never done that. They don't do court with peeps like that, they just shuffle you around again.
I was nine.
The last foster fam they shacked me up with, the guy tried to come into my room one night an' touch me.
They both was wicked normal lookin', with wives. You'd think they could get theyselves a less gross kid to perv up on, but I guess not. Maybe that's what they was into. Or, 'course, obs it be my fault, what with my provocative dress an' airs, yo.
Whatev. I kicked that sick fuck hard as I could; broke alla his ribs an' punctured a lung.
I was fourteen.
S'why I tried to kill myself.
'Cuz it happened again. An' if it happened again, s'what I figured, nothin' sayin' it won't happen again. Prolly it'll happen again. It'll keep happenin'. An' I couldn't face the thought a it keepin' happenin'.
An' then some kids wouldn't let me in on they b-ball game, so I tried to kill myself an' a buncha my Frosh class.
An' then the X-geeks brain-whammied it all away.
I don't be tellin' peeps nothin'. I ain't drama. I don't be cuttin' myself or stavin' myself. I don't puke 'less I'm sick. I don't drink or do drugs. I don't fuck around. I don't cry about it. I don't ask nobody to be around, even. I'm dumb but harmless.
I don't ask nobody for nothin'.
This's stuff that happened to me. There's way more. It don't matter. I'ma never be right. I know it. But not unright enough to stop.
That's all I gotta say.