Terror Town: Childhood Interrupted The Amina Burns Chronicles

Terror Town: Childhood Interrupted

The Amina Burns Chronicles

Ketari Cole

About Terror Town: Childhood Interrupted

When you rape a child, you kill the person they could have been……

Momma could have been a good mother. Maybe if she hadn't been raped as a child she wouldn't be addicted to drugs. Maybe if she wasn't a crack head, she would have paid more attention to her children. Maybe my sister, Lola, wouldn't have become a mother at 15 years old. Maybe I wouldn't have been raped or tried to commit suicide at 9 years old.

Terror Town isn’t what you think it is….

Terror Town is a neighborhood in Chicago that many people avoid. For Amina Burns, Terror Town is a state of mind that she longs to escape; not the neighborhood that shows her love.

Torn and uncertain about life, 17-year-old Amina Burns doesn’t know what her next step in life will be. She only knows that she can’t shake her thoughts of her terrible past. As a senior in high school, she should be looking forward to college but her dysfunctional family and her drug dealing boyfriend want her in Chicago while her best friend, Peggy, is trying to pull her away.

Terror Town: Childhood Interrupted is the first novel in a series that explores the life of young Amina Burns’ current life and her past in parallel as she muddles through setbacks, disappointments and family drama. How will she move forward?

Dedication

To my children: 

I apologize for exposing you to my toxicity. I was not cleansed before I was blessed with you.

You both are bright rainbows in a life of torrential downpour.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

1981

Momma is sucking on that glass thing again, Amina thought while focusing her gaze on her mother.

Little Amina never took long naps. As a result, she always got yelled at for waking up in the middle of something going on at their house, whether it be parties, fights, pipe smoking, you name it.

Amina rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she lay on her makeshift bed set up on the dining room floor. It consisted of three double-folded, twin-sized bed sheets she laid on top of and a thin blanket that failed at keeping her warm. Mindlessly playing with the holes in the itchy blanket, she watched her mother in the kitchen, which was adjacent to the dining room. When she rubbed her nose, she recognized the all-too-familiar stench from the blanket on her finger. Amina didn’t cringe, though. She had become accustomed to such smells.

Why won’t she share it with me? Amina wondered as smoke escaped Momma’s mouth and disappeared into the air.

Her eyes scanned the dingy green walls of the dining room and landed on the worn couch across the room from her. A sheet was thrown over it to hide its stains. If it weren’t for the small Bible her mother had used in place of the missing leg, the couch would’ve been lopsided. Amina wasn’t allowed to sleep on it because Momma said it was for grown folks. So, she had to sleep on the dining room floor while Lola, Amina’s older sister, was at school. Her mother didn’t want Amina in their bedroom alone when they had company, which was most times.

Momma need to keep a close eye on you when all these motherfuckas in the house ‘cause I don’t trust ‘em, Momma would explain to her when she whined about wanting to be in her room. Amina didn’t understand what she meant at the time.

In the middle of the dining room was an old folding table with three worn folding chairs pushed up to it. The table wobbled easily, so guests put their cups on the floor next to them to avoid spilling their drinks. In the corner across from the couch were milk crates filled with albums that Momma would select a variety of music from to play during one of her parties or bad breakups. She played upbeat music for the parties and melancholy music when one of her boyfriend’s left her with a black eye or busted lip.

Sometimes, Amina watched as her mother used her nose like a vacuum cleaner to sniff sugar off the album covers. Once, Amina got a spanking after finding one of her small bags of sugar. Unable to sniff it like she had seen her mother do, she took it to her, and while standing before her with sugar all over her nose and hands, Amina asked Momma to teach her how to use it. Her mother snapped.

That’s ‘grown folks’ sugar, don’t ever touch it again! she yelled at Amina while spanking her.

I can’t wait ‘til I’m a grown folks so I can sit on the couch and sniff sugar off the album covers like Momma and her friends. I’m going to suck on the glass thing like Momma and My Nana, too, Amina thought.

My Nana was Amina’s maternal grandmother. However, she didn’t like to be called Grandma, so her grandchildren and even people from the neighborhood referred to her as My Nana, which her firstborn grandchild, Lola, nicknamed her. Lola’s nickname for Grandma was supposed to be Nana, but as a toddler, Lola would get so jealous when her grandmother showed other people attention that she began calling her My Nana to let them know she belonged to her and only her. The nickname stuck.

Amina watched Momma and My Nana take turns sucking the smoky, glass pipe until she got up to pee.

Dammit, why won’t her ass stay sleep? Momma huffed as she passed the pipe back to My Nana, then stomped over to Amina and grabbed her arm. What you doin’? Lay your ass back down.

But I gotta pee, Amina whined.

Well, hurry up so you can go back to sleep, Momma scolded.

As Amina made her way to the bathroom, she saw both familiar faces and new ones in the living room. The adults barely acknowledged her. They kept on with what they were doing as if she wasn’t there. One of Momma’s friends was sitting on a man’s lap kissing him and rubbing his bald head while he rubbed on her butt. Amina slowed down to watch them until Momma’s friend gave her a nasty look and motioned with her hand for Amina to keep moving. She continued to the bathroom, the whole time looking at the others who ignored her.

The putrid odor of weed and stench of alcohol filled her nostrils with every step she took. Music blasting from the raggedy speakers in the living room and drunken laughter pierced Amina’s ears. There would be fighting later. That she knew for sure. There was always fighting. She just hoped nothing too bad happened before Lola got home. She didn’t want to have to sit with the police again without her sister. That was scary.

Lola was Amina’s big sister and protector. Though only three years older than Amina, Lola was more like a mother to her than Momma. She fed Amina, bathed her, combed her hair, and even spanked her if she got out of line. Lola could be mean sometimes, but she was still Amina’s savior. Amina always perked up when she heard Lola coming through the front door from school. At least Amina would be able to eat. If she told Momma she was hungry, she would only yell at Amina and make her go back to sleep. While Lola was at school, the only thing Amina was allowed to do was sleep or pretend to be sleep, but when Lola came home, she would read to Amina and let her play with her dolls. Momma didn’t have the time or patience to play with her or pay her any attention for that matter. The only thing Momma wanted to do was smoke the pipe and sniff coke with her friends and the strange men that came around.

When Amina walked through the bathroom door that was slightly open, she saw Auntie Sharon on her knees with her head buried in the lap of a man who was sitting on the toilet.

Is he sleep or dead? Amina wondered.

The man’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted so far back his neck looked broken.

Is Auntie Sharon praying?

Suddenly, the man moaned and grabbed the back of Auntie Sharon’s head.

Amina gasped, causing Auntie Sharon to look up from the stranger’s lap.

Amina, go lay back down right now! she said, wiping her mouth.

Amina didn’t move. He looked dead, Auntie.

The man laughed a scary laugh while staring at Amina so hard he could’ve burned a hole through her, if possible.

Naw, babygirl, I ain’t dead. She making me feel real good right now. You gon’ learn how to make men feel good one day soon, too.

The stranger continued staring at Amina and licking his crusty lips. Auntie Sharon, still kneeling in front of the man, smacked his thigh to get his attention and chuckled nervously.

Stretch, don’t start. She ain’t gon’ be pleasing nobody no time soon, Auntie Sharon whispered timidly.

Stretch grabbed Auntie Sharon by the throat. Bitch, if I wanna teach her to please me right now, she will and you ain’t gon’ do a damn thing about it. You understand me?

The man squeezed Auntie Sharon’s neck until a tear rolled down her cheek.

Okay, Stretch. I hear you, but she just a baby and she gotta pee. Let’s just go to the room and get some of those goodies you brought me. We can finish back there. Okay, baby?

The scary man pushed Auntie Sharon off him, causing her to fall backwards against the bathroom wall. Being that the bathroom was so tiny, she didn’t have far to go.

When he stood up, his pants dropped to his ankles and his thing dangled between his legs. Pretending to yawn, he stretched his arms to the ceiling as he stared at Amina like she was Sunday dinner.

It wasn’t the first strange man’s penis Amina had seen. Once, she asked Lola what it was, and she told Amina it was bad and nasty and to stay away from men who showed their things.

You like what you see, babygirl? You wanna say hi to Mr. Jimmy? He snickered as he grabbed himself and waited for a response.

Amina looked at Auntie Sharon who had lost the color in her face. Realizing Auntie Sharon would be no help to her, she diverted her eyes to the floor.

No, sir. I just wanna pee and go lay back down. Momma told me to hurry up, Amina responded innocently.

While the scary man continued to stare at Amina and touch Mr. Jimmy, Auntie Sharon stood up and tried to put her arms around his neck, but he pushed her again.

Get off me, bitch! He finally pulled his pants up. Don’t you ever tell Stretch what he can’t have. And you ain’t gettin’ no coke ‘til I say you can get some coke, he scolded Auntie Sharon, then pushed her out of the bathroom past Amina and toward the back of the house.

Yes, daddy, Auntie Sharon replied in a low, defeated voice.

That’s not Daddy King, so why is Auntie Sharon calling him daddy? Amina wondered, referring to her grandfather.

The thought soon diminished when the urge to pee hit her even harder. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Not long after sitting on the toilet, she heard screaming and bumping in the hallway outside of the bathroom.

It’s starting. Where’s Lola? I’m scared.

Amina hurried to wipe herself and pull up her three-day-old panties. Momma only gave her clean panties if she had an accident. So, it was possible she would be wearing those same panties for a few more days or until Lola washed out a pair in the sink and gave them to her after a bath.

After washing her hands, Amina wiped them on her oversized t-shirt that served as a nightgown. There were never any dry towels in the bathroom. She opened the bathroom door, which was right next to the entry of the house. As she peeked out of the front door, she witnessed Uncle Slab punching the scary stranger in the face. The houseguests were now spectators on the lawn where the unresponsive man was laid out. Despite him being unable to fight back, Uncle Slab kept punching and kicking him.

This not good. Uncle Slab might go to jail again.

Tears of fear welled up in Amina’s eyes.

As Uncle Slab continued with the beating, Momma stood nearby watching the one-sided boxing match while smoking a cigarette, encouraging the beat down.

I’m sorry! the scary man regained consciousness and began to whimper. I’m sorry! It’ll never happen again!

Momma calmly exhaled the cigarette smoke and spoke like a ghetto judge. "Motherfucka, you damn right it’ll never happen again. If I ever catch you around my house looking at either one of my babies, you’ll come up missing. You hear me?"

Uncle Slab kicked him in the stomach. Answer her, nigga!

The scary stranger coughed and spit out blood, Yeah, I hear you. He moaned.

You lucky I don’t have Slab kill you and dump your nasty, perverted ass in Lake Michigan with your dick shoved in your mouth. If I see your face around here again, that’s exactly what’ll happen. Understood?

The scary man slowly looked up at Momma and replied, Understood.

Pat this nigga down and take everything he got, Momma instructed.

Uncle Slab frisked the scary stranger like he was the police, taking his money and his bags of grown folks sugar from his pants pockets. Next, he searched the inside pockets of his jacket and came out with a gun. Uncle Slab looked at Momma, and as if they had just heard a funny joke, the whole crowd started laughing.

This scary-ass nigga took a beating and he got a pistol! Uncle Slab announced through his laughter. You a pussy-ass nigga for real. Don’t ever come in this hood again or you gon’ be in the lake like my sister just said. Get the fuck on from ‘round here.

The scary man tried unsuccessfully to get up off the lawn a few times. But when Uncle Slab put his own gun to the man’s head, he managed to get up and stumble down the street as fast as his battered body would allow him.

The show’s over. Y’all asses gotta go home, Momma told the onlookers.

Without having to be told twice, her guests began leaving, going in their own direction as fast as the injured stranger. When Amina saw Momma and Uncle Slab approaching the house, she ran back into the bathroom and shut the door.

Amina! Amina, get your ass out that bathroom right now! Momma banged on the door until Amina opened it. What the hell taking you so long in there? And why the hell would you stand there and let that motherfucka stroke his dick in your face?

Amina looked at Momma confused. But I…

Shut the fuck up before I beat your ass. If a motherfucka ever try to show you his junk, you better come and get me. You hear?

But, Momma, I was…

Amina tried to plead with Momma, but she cut her off again.

"Answer me before I beat your ass. Or do you wanna be a nasty bitch?