“Yeah, it is cool. I did a science project about planets and I won first place in the science showcase. I was in fifth grade.”
“I can’t imagine you as a little kid.”
He laughs again. “I was different. Kind of a nerd. I read books and videos about things I liked. Then in middle school things changed at home.”
I play with the bit of chest hair he has, realizing he’s opening up to me.
“My mom was a nurse and she worked her ass off. She was always picking up extra shifts to make enough money for us. My dad was in and out of our lives. He had drinking problems and he would just disappear for days, sometimes weeks, then he’d just show up again like nothing happened. He was always begging her to let him come back and she always said yes. She wanted us to be a family.”
I kiss his side to let him know I’m listening.
“I was in seventh grade when it happened.”
His body tenses.
“When I think about it, it feels like it was recent. Here I was, this happy little kid sitting in social studies and the principalcame in and asked for me. He walked me to the office and there was a police officer there and another lady. They told me that my dad had killed my mother.”
I gasp. “Oh, no.”
“And then shot himself.”
His voice is distant, detached from the pain it must’ve caused him.
“They took me to a home with other kids while they tried to find my family members, but there weren’t any. I never met anyone I was related to. My mom’s mom was dead before I was born, and I never knew my dad’s side. So I just went into the system.”
He drags his hand through his hair as he inhales sharply.
“One day I was living in a small but comfortable townhome with my own room and my books and the next day I was surrounded by strangers, sleeping in a room with two other boys I didn’t know. It wasn’t an easy transition.”
“No. I can’t imagine how that felt.”
“It felt like nothing, Rue. I shut down as soon as I heard my mom was gone. I was angry, but I couldn’t feel sadness. Being in foster care, in group homes, it’s not for the weak, and I learned quickly that I needed to figure out how to take care of myself. In a matter of months, I went from a pretty quiet science nerd to a boy filled with rage and no outlet for it. I started fighting and acting out all the time. My grades dropped, and my social worker told me it was normal to deal with my grief that way, but every night, I would close my eyes and see my dad’s face. I couldn’t see my mom no matter how hard I tried though. Just his. Drunk and sloppy and treating us like shit. I wanted to dig him up just so I could kill him again.”
A shiver moves down my back. “It had to be frustrating.”
“To put it mildly. I got passed around to different foster homes, and there was a lot of abuse. Physical, emotional…” He pauses. “Sexual.”
“Oh god.”
“But at fifteen, I just took off. I didn’t want to be shoved into someone else’s family again. I figured I could take care of myself at that point, and I did. In some ways it was easier on the streets. No one expects anything of you. No one asks you questions or gives you looks of pity. Everyone is too busy surviving.”
“What did you do for money and stuff?”
“Anything. Sometimes I mugged people, stole stuff from stores to sell. Eventually, I turned some tricks. That’s actually how I figured out my sexuality. I was hit up by this man and at that point, I hadn’t had more than a few messy blow jobs from girls, but he offered me a lot of money that night and said he’d give me a shower and dinner. It was too good a deal to say no to and I figured I could get through it.”
“You weren’t attracted to him?”
Carnage shakes his head. “He was some middle-aged dude. He wanted me to fuck him and I decided I’d do it. He took me to a hotel room and while I showered he ordered room service. After that, he blew me, and I got hard so I did the deed. I woke up alone with two hundred dollars and a full belly, feeling rested.”
“That must’ve been so nice.”
“It was, yeah. And it was easier than stealing and hustling for a meal. I learned what part of town to hang out in so I’d find more tricks. Eventually, I realized that I liked sex with men way more than sex with women. Unfortunately, with turning tricks comes danger. I was assaulted many times. I was still pretty small back then.”
“Assaulted? Physically?”
“Sexually. Again.”
I cringe. I was afraid of that.
