Chapter 2

The loud buzzing caused me to sit straight up like a tight spring. Sitting in bed, dazed and looking around, I shook my head and swiped the hair off my face, and then tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. The buzzing continued, and as I became more alert I raised my hand and slammed down on top of the alarm clock so hard it flew off the end table onto the floor. But at least the annoying noise had stopped.

I slumped back down and pulled the cover up to my chin. I felt like I had just fallen asleep -- and that wasn't far from the truth. When my mother brought a man home I didn't get much sleep, and last night with her drug supplier was no exception. But it was a weekday and I was not going to miss school. Not that my mother would have cared. It's just that I intended to get an education and get a good job. Then I could either pay for my mother's rehabilitation or at least her drugs so she wouldn't have to turn tricks. I swore I would never be like her -- NEVER!

The shower woke me up and when I went downstairs I found my mother snoring on the couch. I went into the kitchen and poured Cheerios into a bowl and added milk. I ate alone and then cleaned up. After checking on my mother one last time, I walked to school.

During the morning classes all I could think about was my mother sucking that man's cock and doing gross things trying to get him to fuck her so she could have her precious heroin. And she didn't even complain when he violently rammed his cock into her so hard she had to bite her bottom lip until it bled. But the image that was most disturbing was him holding her by the hair and firing thick globs of semen onto her face. How could she let him do that? Didn't she have any self-respect?

"Tammy, what's happening?"

"I looked up at the smiling face of my best friend. I didn't have many, but Judy was a good one. I longed to tell her about my mother and what's been going on, but like my mother I bit my lip and held it inside. What good would it do? And if she knew, would she remain my friend? I couldn't lose her friendship -- it was what kept me sane.

"Nothing, just trying to figure out what this stuff is." I stabbed my food with a fork.

Judy laughed and placed her tray next to mine and sat down. "Shit on a shingle."

"Gross, what's that?" I said and pushed my plate away.

She laughed again and said, "Damn if I know. My dad says that's what they gave him to eat in the army. Is your mom feeling any better?"

"Um, not much. She's always so tired. I wish she'd go to the doctor but she says we can't afford it."

I hated lying to Judy, but what was I supposed to do? I guess I could have said, "Well, I think her cut lip is healing, and now that she has shit to shoot into her veins she's flying high. She couldn't feel better. I bet her cunt is sore though from the pounding it took last night." Nope, I had to lie to my best friend.

"I'm sorry," Judy said and looked down at her food, running a fork through the ... I guess shit on a shingle.

We talked mostly about school. I didn't get to see her much since I was always busy cleaning, cooking, and taking care of my mother when I wasn't working or doing my homework and studying. And I never let her come into my house. I'd die if she ever did.

The house had been my grandparents'. I don't remember them much, but I think I was happy when they were alive. They never gave up on Mom, but were as useless as me to get her clean. At least back then she didn't bring men to the house. I think Grandpa would have shot them. I may have too but Mom pawned the shotgun a long time ago. My grandparents died when I was real little. Thankfully the house was paid for and they established a trust to pay the taxes and utilities. Mom never saw the money. The bank man paid the bills out of the trust fund. Thank God for my grandparents or I'd be living in the street using old newspapers to keep me warm and not have any friends.

Judy and I chatted nonstop during lunch which made me feel much better. Thank God for Judy.

After school I trudged to the office supply store where I worked -- where I unofficially worked anyway. Mr. Walters made it clear to me when I first asked him for a job that a person needs to be sixteen to legally work. But I needed money for things that my grandparents' trust didn't pay for. So the day after Mr. Walters turned me down I wore the shortest skirt I had and asked him again. I even fluttered my eyelashes when I said, "Pretty please." He stared at me, his eyes lustily roaming up and down my little body, and then he asked if I was afraid of heights. When I said no he told me I had to prove it.

We went into the back room and he placed a tall ladder against the wall with shelves of inventory. He told me to bring down a box of CDs. I waited for him to move away from the ladder but he didn't. The job was important so I climbed to the top shelf. I peeked under my arm and saw him looking up under my short skirt. He was in his late forties, balding, overweight, and married. I wanted to climb down and kick him in the balls, but I needed the money so I looked for the CDs.

"There are none up here," I said and looked down. He was rubbing his crotch and jerked his hand away.

"Keep looking."

I did so, making sure to keep my eyes fixed ahead. I may have been young, but I learned a lot about men from watching my mother.

"Keep looking," he said almost desperately. "Don't look down ... keep looking 'til you find it."

I snuck a peek and had to suppress a gasp. Mr. Walters' hard cock was sticking out of his pants and he was fisting it while looking up under my skirt. I really needed the job so I got onto my toes on one foot and lifted my other foot to the side to balance myself as I peered into the back of the top shelf. I knew he was now seeing the crotch of my panties rather than just my butt. I remained like that until I heard him grunt and then lowered my foot back onto the ladder. I stood there, staring straight ahead at a bunch of boxes, feeling violated.

"Okay, I guess it's not up there," he said, breathing hard. "Come on down."

I made sure not to step in the gooey semen splattered on the cement floor as I got off the ladder. Mr. Walters offered me a job and told me he would do me a favor since I was underage and pay me in cash off the books. But I mustn't tell anyone. He also informed me that the dress code was a skirt. So that's how I got the job. Mr. Walters accompanied me in the back room often to look for things on the top shelf that I never seemed to find. And one of my duties was to clean up the floor afterwards with him watching. He actually thought I was too young to know what it was. He didn't know I cleaned it off my mother a lot.

After work, I went home and Mom was mulling around in a stupor. She'd look at me and try to have a conversation, but her mind must have been kind of fuzzy because she kept stopping and forgetting what she was saying. I stood uncomfortably listening to her ramble. Finally, I told her I had to do my homework and left her alone. I glanced over my shoulder as I walked up the stairs and saw her standing where I had left her, not doing anything -- not looking at anything -- probably not thinking about anything other than how good the buzz felt. I turned around and flew up the stairs two at a time, slamming my door before diving head first onto the bed and pulling the pillow over my head. If only it was that easy to block out what was happening.

And that's how the next couple of days went by. I even had the weekend to spend some time out of the house with Judy. But on Monday my life went from bad to worse.

When I got home, Mom was fidgety and cranky. She was sweating and quite pale -- and her hands shook. I knew she needed a fix and that she was out. I made dinner -- tuna fish sandwiches and potato chips -- but she wouldn't eat. I even tried stuffing it into her mouth but all I got was a face full of tuna and a slap. So I ate in silence and went up to my room to do my homework not even bothering to clean up the kitchen.

I expected it and sure enough I awoke from a restless sleep to the noises coming from the living room. I smothered my head with the pillow, pulling it tightly over my ears, but it did no good. The voices were loud and it sounded like more than Mom and her "guest." As usual, my curiosity got the best of me and I rolled out of bed still very sleepy.

I was wearing a long nightgown. It was new ... well, new for me. As usual, Mom bought clothes too big so I could grow into them. I think the length was supposed to be above my knees, but it came down halfway between my knees and ankles. It was pale blue, although I think it must have been a richer blue that faded to the color it now was. It was real comfortable though. The soft cotton felt great against my skin and the armholes were too large making it very roomy. I liked sleeping in it.