He stood about 5’6″ tall. Chocolate brown skin. Small, black designer glasses slightly hidden beneath his baseball cap. Timbs, denim jeans and a bright neon colored City of Chicago jacket. “Excuse me. Do you mind if I give your daughter my number?” he asked, from across the street. “Only if she wants you to” my mother yelled back, slipping her key into the door of our apartment complex. I turned around and stared. He locked eyes, but didn’t say a word. He looked like an older man. At least in his late 20s. And here I was, just turned 13. Confusion was my first reaction. I thought my mom would have some strong words for him. Especially being as though, she tried to distance me from boys. Ever since I got my period at 7, she was afraid of any boy or man touching me. Lest I turn up pregnant. As I walked in behind her, she lead the way to our second floor apartment. Took a seat on the couch in the living room, and I closed the door behind. “You can do whatever you want to do with a man. Just make sure he pays you”, my mom said to me. I took that that as if the guy we just saw pops up again, it’s free game.
I was one bad muthafucka. Standing 5’2″, long dark brown hair that dropped past my shoulders. Caramel complexion. Full lips and bold dark brown eyes. 32C breast and a small 120 pound frame. Thick thighs, wide hugs and a ass that would make a nigga wanna cry. I looked 13 yrs old in the face. By my body read at least 18-21. All the guys both young and old were at me. Especially the older ones. Cause you know what they say, young pussy is high demand. And I was still a virgin at that. People swore up and down I was having sex, because of my shape. Low key, I wasn’t even thinking about sex. I just liked the attention. My mom thought she could just lock me away up in the house. I was only allowed to go to school, and then back home to my room. Hell…I couldn’t even jump on the swings, and the park was directly across the street. Talk about feeling isolated. I was lonely and didn’t have anyone to talk to. Everytime I’d get on the phone and talk to my friends, I was rushed off. I’m surprised I never ran away. I hated being in that house.
My mom walked me to and from school. Every morning. Monday through Friday. And sometimes, we’d stop at the corner store on our way home. Get some chips, candy and finger ale. But one day, my mom was stopped to talk to the crossing guard. They always stopped and talked to each other. And my friends and I ran off to the store. As I stood in line, a man with a baseball cap walked into the store. The sun was gleaming. I didn’t get a full look at him til je walked on me. He signal with his hands placed near his pocket. I looked down, and he was trying to sneak me a peice of paper. I opened the fold. It read “Ahmad Thomas 773-579-6236”. Wait…this was the same guy that tried to talk to me from across the street a few weeks ago. He didn’t say anything. By the time I looked back up, he was headed back out the door….