When Doves Cry
Author's Note-This is a true story(every bit of it is true) based on the life of someone very close to me. It's kind of in the form of a diary, or memory, and probably will be only one chapter. When you read it, I hope you never say something about a gang, or drugs, or something like that, without thinking of the consequences.
A world without drugs, pain, or gangs. Seems unfathomable, I know. But it was a world I wished for every night while I was crying myself to sleep every night. After seeing all of it, hearing it, feeling it, being in the middle of it, you get sick. It weighs you down, leaks from you like a poison. It leaves a hole in your heart for the rest of your life that you can never escape. And it hurts, as the blood flows through it. It hurts...
I stared at my older sister with terrified three year old eyes filled with tears. I wanted to run to her, wrap my arms around her, and make the scary people go away. But they were still there.
"Please, don't hurt my sister! Please, she's only a little girl! I don't care what you do to me!" One of the men hit her in the face, hard. Vikki cried out in fear, and in pain. In the background, I whimpered. One of the men turned to look at me. His eyes were so hard(I'm surprised I remember any of this). Hard and cold. Completely heartless. Vikki saw him looking at me, and started to say something, but one of the others men hit her again. I started to cry; I couldn't help it.
"You want something to cry about? Do you?" the cold man grabbed me by my hair and looked into my eyes. I cried harder. He laughed, with his heartlessness, right into my ear.
"I'll give you something to cry about, you little white trash whore!" he flung me against the wall. I barely made a sound.
"Take off the older one's clothes," he commanded to the other two standing there. They grinned and grabbed Vikki, my older sister, who was the only one I had left in the world, and began taking her clothes off. While I watched. While I did nothing and watched. They raped her, one at a time, over and over again, while I stood there and watched and cried. I didn't help her, even though I wanted to, cause I didn't know what to do. I couldn't call the police after they left, and neither could Vikki. They'd come back.
Yeah, that was my life at the age of the three. My mom was in jail for assault to her boyfriend. She pushed him off the balcony. My father was in jail for god-knows-what; he was in jail almost every week. This time I believe it was for drugs. Yes, drugs. That's why the gangs had come. To teach him a lesson about selling drugs to the wrong people. He really hadn't learned much. Vikki wasn't his daughter. She was a pure bred white girl, with my older brother. Me, I was a mix, Mexican and white. But light enough to be considered a white girl, I guess. We had no one, me and Vikki. Shawn didn't know(my older brother), and my parents were in jail. What did they know?
So me and Vikki lived alone. All by ourselves, with our cholos coming back everyday, looking for my dad. Vikki was only 15, but she took care of me. She got a job as a stripper at 14, to pay for our rent, food, and to pay off the gangsters my father owed money to. All alone.
Then, when I was four, my father got out. Got us an apartment, and we lived with him. I liked living alone better. All he wanted to do was have sex with me and my sister(yes, even four year old me). Vikki, as usual, wanted to protect me. I was never raped. Molested and abused. But I was never raped. At least not by my father. We lived with him for three years. I always remembered selling the drugs. He would send Vikki and me off to sell his drugs, when he was to drunk to go, only so we could go home and get beaten. It was literally hell. It was days like that I wished I was dead. On the days he shot heroine into our system so we could be easier to take advantage of. On the days when he would stick... things inside of me, just to hurt me, and make Vikki watch. That gave him so much pleasure. To see our pain. Those days that he made us take showers with him, and he made me touch him. That's who he was. And it never even affected him, to this day. He still doesn't care that he ruined my life, and Vikki's life, and took part of our lives that we will never get back.
Then, after those three years in hell, my mother got out of jail. Her and Vikki are the only family members I can ever love. Vikki most of all. She gave up everything for me. And then she left. Left me with him. She didn't have a choice, and I wanted her to go. She moved out, and went to college. And told my mother, who was desperately looking for me. In the month it took to find her, I was beaten, and molested until it felt like an everyday occurrence.
Finally, my mom found me. She took me away from that place, and took me to a better one. But not a much better one.
Tony. The man she was engaged to. The man who raped me from the time I was 7, to the time I was 12. That, my mother never knew of. Tony was slick, like my father. He knew the gangs, and the people in them. If he wanted to murder, he could murder. If he wanted to rape a little girl, his business. The government didn't want to mess with him. He made sure that I didn't want to tell anyone. By killing my uncle. One of my favorites; Uncle Robert. And told me he'd kill the others if I told anyone. Yes, I was a coward. I didn't care what he did to me; I didn't want him to hurt my family.
But finally, I told Vikki. Finally, Vikki told the cops. Finally, Tony went to jail. That was last year. He got out of jail last Saturday. That shows you what a gang member can do when he puts his mind to it. That shows you how there is no one you can trust when it comes to gangs, drugs, or anything else. That shows you that there is no love in the dark corners of the earth, where men can rape and kill, and no one will ever know. And the doves will cry, and no one will ever hear them.