Little Games-Chapter One

I guess things started when I was five years old. I was living in this dumpy, old apartment building and my life was filled with rock n' roll, arts and crafts, basketball and hanging with the boys. Yeah, I suppose I had it fairly good. My friends were all guys, girls back then hated my guts. I was scrawny, had short hair, was one of the fastest runners on the playground and I dreamed of growing up to be just like MJ. I just didn't care about tea parties and last night's episode of Sailor Moon.
The guys and I would play basketball at every chance. Before school, recess, after school and on weekends. None of us had a lot of money so whoever's team would win; they'd buy a super mega size slurpee and share with the rest of us. We were only on teams of two or three so it wasn't so bad.
I remember playing in the parking lot of the apartment building one day. I was alone, making crowns out of dandelions. Dandelions used to grow in the yards by the thousands and many days when the others couldn't play, I would just sit and whistle to myself; wearing my crowns and glancing about my kingdom.
This particle day though, a boy and a girl came walking down the alley beside the parking lot. I became a little nervous because I had never seen these kids before and I had thought I had known most everyone in the neighborhood. They approached me, and as they got closer I got a better view of them.
The boy was way older than me with dark eyes and shiny black hair. I remember him wearing grungy clothes that smelt like oil. The girl was a little older than me but was smaller than the boy and had matching features. They asked if they could join me. I said sure, and went back to my crowns.
They asked me my age and were surprised when I told them I was five. They said I looked at least eight or nine and had guessed I was in the third grade, at least. I told them I was in Grade One. The boy introduced them as brother and younger sister. He had said their names but I don't remember them today. At the time he was 13 and his sister was 9.
For next few months, they would come to play with me all the time. Sometimes at my house, other times at the park or in the yard. With time I became at ease with them and I slowly began to trust them. They had become my friends.
One day I was in my room, listening to tapes and drawing in a notebook. I was hiding because my stepfather had his brother over and both were drinking while watching football. I heard a knock at the door and a few moments later my stepdad stuck his head in my room and said "You've got visitors kiddo". In my head I was wondering who, because all of my friends had gone away on vacation.
In walked the boy and girl. They smiled and asked what I was doing today. I told them that I wasn't doing anything and asked them to stay. We played games all afternoon until the boy grabbed me. He held me in his lap and began running his fingers all over me. He started to kiss my neck and shoulders. I told him to stop. His sister was laughing and kept saying "Relax. He likes you. He thinks you're special, just like me". I told them it wasn't funny and was about to yell for my stepdad when the girl slapped me hard.
I fell backwards onto my bed and and the boy climbed over me and sat on my legs. He held my arms down with his elbows and whenever I moved or made a noise the girl would grab my hair and slam my head down. She put a sock in my mouth as he took off my clothes. They raped me. In my own room. My own bed. I had to live in that room for another three years until we moved. I lost apart of myself that day. A part I will never get back. It is trapped in that room, my old torture chamber, forever.
Moments later, they tidied my room since I had made a mess struggling to free myself. They dressed me again and cleaned the wounds they had given me. Before they left they gave me a message. They said that I wasn't to tell anyone or they would kill me and that I better be prepared because this wasn't going to be their last visit.
They left me there and walked out of my room, past my stepdad and uncle who were still drinking and watching T.V. They had even said good-bye and invited them to come over again, anytime. They hadn't even a clue.
Later when my mom came home from work, she saw one of my scratches. I told her I had been climbing trees and fell and my arm had hit a branch. She believed me and went back to cleaning up the beer bottles in the living room.
I don't know what happened after that really. The boy and girl never touched me again, breaking their promise but I was scared nonetheless. Somewhere along the line I came up with a plan. To gain lots of weight. Because, like the movies and t.v shows had taught me. No one likes a fat girl. No one will touch a fat girl. I just had to become a fat girl, I had to.