Chapter 3

Tracy’s nightmare had become her reality. Her increasing anxieties about the men who drank with her dad, and the way they sometimes behaved towards her, had become an acute fear because of a close call the previous weekend. After an oral rape by two of her dad’s drinking buddies on Friday night, followed by an actual rape by them, as well as a third man, on Saturday night, what she feared had become the despondent girl’s life. Raped by three men. Her first time wasn’t with a boy she liked, or loved, it was with three vile, repulsive drunks!

She hardly left her room on Sunday. Only to go pee or throw up. Tracy saw her dad only once. He was hung over and they didn’t speak. She tried to study ... two weeks to go with final exams coming up ... but she mostly slept ... and cried.

On the way home from school Monday, she talked with a friend of hers, who could tell something was wrong. Tracy felt too ashamed to divulge anything, but just to admit that, yes, something was wrong seemed to help. By the time her classmate got off the bus, she felt a little less bottled up than before.

Then a boy she barely knew, a junior, invited himself to sit with her. He was all eyes. The nubile teen was wearing a light, loose-fitting skirt, yellow with a flowery motif, very comfortable and ideal for the upcoming summer. It was also quite short, perfect for the summer, not so good for being next to a horny boy. It was Tracy’s birthday gift from a friend who was sympathetic about her situation at home.

Like a lot of girls at school, she removed her panty hose after class for the bus ride home. Too hot for nylons. Being a girl with gorgeous legs, wearing such a short skirt, she had attracted attention and quite few looks from boys at school. Now with her pretty legs bare, one particular boy was getting an eyeful, until the girl being thus objectified complained about it. Then he looked at her shirt, less colorful, also loose-fitting, and thin enough he could see her bra in the sunlight. The boy’s lascivious grin gave him away. For a ninth grader, she had some hellacious tits.

At that point, Tracy got angry and told him to leave her alone. His up-close, leering demeanor unsettled her. Too much like those drunks last weekend. When the boy touched her arm, she hauled off and slapped him. He raised his hand, then lowered it, when girls nearby started raising hell at him. The lovely schoolgirl was too flustered to say anything. Another girl, a classmate of hers, sat next to Tracy to see if she was okay. She nodded her head. For a moment, she started to let those not-as-bottled-up feelings pour right out of her.

Tracy wiped a tear away and decided her father was the proper recipient for all those feelings. She resolved to confront him, when she got home, about what his drinking buddies did to her.

Doug McConnell got home from work an hour or so after his daughter except for those days she stayed after school. So she was usually the one to fix dinner. And to clean up afterwards, because that was when he started drinking. Not supposed to drink on an empty stomach, so they say, which meant after dinner was a good time to start. And that was what he did almost every day.

By the time Tracy finished with the dishes, and prepared to confront her dad, he already had a buzz going. She tried to brace herself, took some deep breaths, psyched herself up, and walked into the living room feeling strong. She sat opposite him and the resolve the anxious girl thought she had quickly dissolved. She was sitting there, face to face with her own father, telling him that some of his friends had raped her. There was no way tears wouldn’t be a part of that. She managed to get it out. All of those bottled up feelings.

He didn’t believe her. She was speechless. How hard it was for her to tell him about it, and he blew it off like it was bullshit.

“They wouldn’t never do that, honey. I’ve known them boys for most of your life. Hell, they watched you grow up.”

She wanted to tell her dad they watched a little too closely. But the tears were already starting. Tracy ran from the room before the deluge began. He heard her slam the door to her bedroom.

Doug didn’t mean to upset her like that. He loved his daughter, even if he was incapable of showing it much of the time. He just couldn’t believe ... couldn’t let himself believe ... any of his friends would do that to an innocent young girl. Sure as hell not to his own daughter. Doug McConnell was already plagued with guilt because of the hardships and letdowns she experienced due to his drinking. The poor kid’s mom died when she was only 10. He had been drinking before then. It got worse after he lost his wife. Then he got a DWI. Then another one. All the money that cost. Bail, a lawyer to keep him out of prison, fines, classes. Financial hardship. Not being able to provide for his little girl like he should. Made a man want to take a drink.

Father and daughter hardly spoke the next few days. On Thursday, he tried to make it up to her. He bought Tracy a box of Godiva chocolates, 12 chocolate truffles, which he knew was one of her favorites. She gave him a genuine smile when he pulled it out of the bag. He also told her he would have friends over on Friday, as usual, but not on Saturday. He remembered how upset Tracy got when she saw a roomful of drunks when she got home on Saturday. He had nearly convinced himself that was why she made up that awful story about his friends. The sweet girl gave him a hug. He felt better after that.

So did Tracy, a little. She felt alone, and forsaken, left undefended by her dad even with a houseful of drunks ogling her. It crushed her that he didn’t believe what she said about getting raped. But she appreciated the gestures, and she was relieved it would only be Friday, not the whole weekend.

She waved at a couple of classmates as she headed to the front of the bus. When she turned around, that older boy who bothered her earlier in the week was staring at her. She gasped in umbrage and tried to ignore the likelihood that he was staring at her butt as she walked away. Tracy knew boys liked to check out girls’ butts, especially a girl who was wearing jeans or a snug-fitting skirt, like the red one she wore today. Well, look but don’t touch. As soon as the bus pulled away, she saw the cars in the driveway. Three of them, which meant it had already started. Tracy grew livid as she crossed the street to her home. It was too early for her dad to start drinking. Too early! She entered the house and saw that, sure enough, he was already drinking. So were they. Five men, four of whom she had never seen before, including two black guys. Her dad never before had black men over here drinking, except for one man, a middle-aged drunk like him. What was going on? Who were these people?!?

Staring at these strangers, it took Tracy a minute to realize they were also staring at her. She blushed, suddenly very self-conscious with five men checking her out. With a short red skirt and shapely bare legs, the teen cutie was giving them plenty to look at. At least she was wearing a dark blue loose-fitting shirt.

Holding her book bag to her chest, Tracy uttered a curt “hi Dad” as she walked past too many eyes and too much liquor. As she walked down the hall to her bedroom, she tried to focus on the task at hand. She needed to hurry and gather all the supplies she would need for the rest of the night. There was no time for her to cook dinner. She needed to be in her room, behind a locked door, safely away from these men. The innocent beauty changed into nylon athletic pants.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she took a small cooler and marched back down the hall. All the men were watching this pretty little blonde in her blue shirt and glossy yellow pants. As she entered the kitchen, Tracy could hear their comments, as well as her dad’s mild rebuke. She filled up the cooler with ice and sodas. She was stuffing a grocery bag full of snacks and other stuff she needed when a man walked into the kitchen. She saw him out of the corner of her eye but gave him no attention. He was giving her plenty. The vulnerable girl grew nervous as he came closer.

“What’s your name, sugar pants?”

Tracy didn’t answer, just moved a little faster. She bent over to get something and immediately regretted doing that.

“Why don’t you come have a drink with us?”

“I don’t drink. Please leave me alone.”

He didn’t want to leave her alone. She gasped as he sauntered over and stood right next to her.

“You sure are a pretty little thing.”

“Dad?!?”

“That’s my daughter. Leave her be, now.”

He said no more, but the man’s look became an unabashed leer as he watched this gorgeous schoolgirl move. When she picked up the cooler, he deliberately stood in her way, smirking as she bristled and went around him. It was a tight fit between him and the cabinets. Tracy tried to keep the cooler between them and scowled from the stench of alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. He managed to rub up against her as she squeezed past him. He didn’t really know Doug McConnell, but he wanted to get to know Doug McConnell’s teen daughter. Maybe get her high. Then ... it might be party time.

His leer continued as she hustled down the hall. He returned to the living room and told his host that he had a “mighty fine” daughter. As the others joined him in a lewd chorus, Doug became a bit heated as he reminded them, damn it, that she was his daughter and she was also an underage girl.

Tracy had to make one more trip to the kitchen. Coming up the hall, she took a look and noticed more men had arrived. These she recognized, some of the old drunks who had been coming over for a long time. As she grabbed two grocery bags filled with food and supplies, she heard more men arriving. Just from their voices, she could tell they were black men. It was still early, and there were so many ... and several of them were black. She was scared. The anxious teen locked her bedroom door and got the hammer out of the closet. She wanted to keep it handy. Just in case.

Tracy remained holed up in her bedroom all evening. Even with her TV on, she could hear the men making a racket down the hall. She could recall no prior time when it was so loud ... or when there were so many. She was afraid to leave her room. Finally, she could wait no longer. She really had to pee. Tracy thought about peeing out of her bedroom window, but she was unable to remove the screen.

She had to leave the safety of her room. But not like this. The alluring young blonde was wearing cutoffs. She took them off and put her athletic pants back on to show less skin. She considered putting on a bra ... taken off when she got ready for bed ... but decided against it. She wouldn’t be getting close enough for anyone to notice.

At the last second, Tracy remembered those men sneaking into her room last weekend. She poured the water from a glass vase out of the window. Leaving her room, she closed the door most of the way and placed the vase right behind it. She would hear that if anybody went into her room.

She scooted to the bathroom. Standing at the doorway, she became alarmed at what was happening down the hall. It looked like a party! Tracy recognized some of the men, not some of the others, but there had to be more than a dozen! She was unnerved to see all those black men, several of them, and ... what was that? She gasped. It looked like some of them were smoking! She thought it was weed, at first, but there was no odor, or at least, not that odor. What, Tracy wondered, were they smoking?!? A man looked straight at her, a black man who grinned and said something. Suddenly there were several men looking at her. The eye-catching beauty yelped and ducked into the bathroom.

After she was done, Tracy peeked out the door towards her bedroom. It looked the same. Just as she opened the door, a black man appeared and flashed a toothy grin. He reached for her. The startled girl tried to push him away while he tried to grab a hold. She avoided his grasp long enough to step back and slam the door shut, but he stopped it from closing. As adrenalin pumped through her veins, she managed to push the door shut and lock it. He still wanted in, and called on “baby girl” to open the door. With a note of irritation in his voice, the black man hit the door with his hand, then his shoulder. He told her “no white bitch” was keeping him out.