Excerpt: Foreplay

(May 11, 1985. Ten-year-old Marcus being driven home from the police station by his father after he was caught stealing by a store merchant. Store merchant did not press charges after talking with Marcus's father)

When his father pulled the car into the garage, he quickly yanked the key from the ignition and jumped out of the driver's seat. He walked quickly to the passenger door and pulled it open.
"Get out and get in your room," he ordered.
Marcus said nothing. He did not look up as he got out of the car and went through the door that led from the garage into a small room off the kitchen where they kept their muddy shoes, umbrellas, hats and gloves. He walked straight through the kitchen without greeting his mother, who stood gaping at him, and passed Jasmine in the hall as he walked quickly to his room. He shut the door behind him, then flopped onto his bed, face down. He rolled over on his side and kept his back to the door. He waited. Marcus could hear his father ordering his mother to take Jasmine to the store. Then he heard bottles clinking together. He knew that sound. He knew his father was pouring whisky into a crystal glass and drinking it quickly. His father always did that before he disciplined him or Jasmine. And, there were many occasions when his father ordered his mother to take Marcus to the store and leave Jasmine home. Whenever Marcus returned from one of those shopping trips, Jasmine would be sullen and withdrawn for several days. She would not want to be around any of them.
Marcus had almost lulled himself to sleep when he heard his bedroom door open. His father stepped into the room. Marcus could smell the alcohol even with his back to the door.
"Get your ass up!" his father demanded. "You gonna learn not to embarrass me with this bullshit!" His father began unbuckling his belt. His brick-colored hair was neatly combed back, showing large green eyes that were getting darker by the moment.
Marcus stood up. He did not look at his father, instead he looked at his father's feet.
"Drop those pants!"
Marcus looked now, tears forming in his eyes.
"You heard me . . . drop'em!" His father loomed over him.
Marcus unzipped his jeans and let them fall to his ankles.
"Them too," his father ordered, pointing at Marcus's underwear.
Marcus flinched at the anticipation of the leather belt on his bare buttocks. He slowly pulled down his pants and let them rest at his ankles on top of his jeans.
"Now, bend over that bed . . . and don't move neither."
Marcus placed his palms on his bed and bent over. He closed his eyes and waited for the first stinging blow from the belt. His mind did not even register that the sound he heard was his father's zipper. Without warning, Marcus screamed out as he felt his father behind him. The pain ripped through his abdomen and caught his screams. He felt his father's hands holding him in place as his father's weight caused Marcus's legs to buckle. The roar of pain grew louder and louder each time his father banged his hips against Marcus. Through the din, Marcus heard his father's quickened breathing and then a loud moan. After that, his father released his grip on Marcus and backed away from the bed.
Marcus thought he heard himself screaming, but no sound came out. He wanted to run somewhere, anywhere, but his legs felt weightless as his lower regions felt on fire.
"That's your punishment from now on . . . you tell anybody about your punishment and I'll really be mad! You understand me?"
Marcus could not make a sound. When his father slapped his buttocks and demanded to know if he understood, Marcus could only shake his head from side to side. Marcus fell forward on the bed. He lay there not wanting to breathe. He heard his father's zipper, then heard the clinking of his father's belt. After his father had left the room, Marcus screamed as loud as he could, but no sound could be heard inside his room.