Voices

no stop hitting me I promise I'll never be bad again you're hurting me I promise I promise I promise I promise go away what are you doing don't hurt me anymore I promise I'll be good I'll be good I'll be good no stop hitting me I'll be a good boy no no no no no no no no go away I'll make you pay I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

One thought flashed

(stormed)

through Trojan's mind. He'd never forgive him for what he did. It was

(not)

so long ago. His head was soggy; filled with violent thoughts and distant memories; the beating never stopped; the hitting never ceased.

I bet you didn't know that smart alec did ya you don't know anything ya little punk you're nothing but a worthless piece of street trash I want you to stay away from that little whore she'll screw you then leave you with nothing but a bloody hanger and cheap booze get your scrimy ass outta my face ya little punk

Kitty was a good girl. Trojan tried to tell him that. His best friend Jimmy had AIDS; Kenya was 3 months pregnant; nothing but bullshit from the bull himself.

Trojan left when he was 14. The trauma was too much; the pain was neverending; cheap whores in and out; cheap booze in and out; no peace; keep suffering until you

(suffocate)

die of malnutrition from eating your own shit and forcing it down in the name of the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit Amen

good God would you stop with the nursery rhymes already what are you a little fairy I bet you want to grow up to be a drag queen or some shit like that get your fairy ass outta my face ya little girl

Today was Trojan's birthday; 18 and finally an adult; 2 years ago he was an adult; been an adult since he was born; stupid drunken man.

Kitty was gone

(where? No one knows)

home; the streets were her home; dirty, cold, no shelter; pimps and hoes; pimps and hoes; give me money; I have a trick.