There was fruit on the tray, four sections of whitish-orange jackfruit. I picked them up carefully, one at a time, sitting with my knees against my breasts, my chin in the valley between them. Television. I was going on television again, that was why they gave me fruit. I ate it slowly, rocking back and forth and staring at the wall.My first time had been very hard. I hadn't wanted to read the words and I'd refused. So they'd beaten me from the waist down with truncheons of rubber hose filled with sand. I hadn't been able to walk or even stand, but I'd been able to read what they told me to as I sat on a chair. My face had not been marked then, not once, nor had my arms or shoulders. Any part of me that would be seen by my friends and family was clean and soft and unbruised. It shamed me.The second time I'd been more ready and I protested silently, staring into the camera as if my eyes would tell the truth. My voice was a flat monotone without emotion, unlike the month previous when. My cheerleading practice had ended early and I had rushed straight home, eager to tell my mom that Nick, the guy I’ve had a crush on since forever had finally asked me out. I was so ecstatic, I couldn’t wait to share my awesome news.What I found when I got home, however, ripped the joy from my chest, stole my breath away, deafened me to anything that might have been happening outside. As of a few seconds ago, mere moments really, my entire world had been reduced to my family’s kitchen and what was going on between its four walls. My beautiful, constantly expanding, always sunny world, was now reduced to these unspeakable things. These disloyal, disgraceful, distasteful… horrible… things that were taking place.And worst of all, after all had been said and done, I feared that what I was seeing and hearing now was going to ruin my good feelings towards my mom forever.She was with some man I hadn’t seen before and he was fondling her breasts. He had her trapped between his massive frame.
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