Taboo 2, p.22
Taboo 2, page 22
Rasheed shook his head. “Look, Si, I wanted to tell you to watch yourself, man. I’m not sayin’ that Lamont don’t love you, but he’s a sloppy dude.”
Sierra walked down the stairs to the front door, and Rasheed followed closely behind her with her bags in his hand.
“I gotta go, Rah, so you gotta tell me what you mean! Make it quick!” yelled Sierra as she kept looking out the door.
Rasheed inhaled. “Lamont and India were fuckin’ with each other. I caught Lamont over there with her a few weeks back. He made a deal with me by saying that I could see Messiah as much as I wanted if I didn’t say anything to you.”
Sierra froze, and Rasheed watched as her face became distorted. “This bastard! That little bitch! I can’t believe that. You know what, Rah? I appreciate you tellin’ me this.” Sierra began crying.
“And Anwar? You don’t have to worry about him, okay?” Rasheed said, wiping tears from her left cheek.
“Okay,” she said in a barely audible whisper. He kissed her on the forehead before she opened the door. He watched her until she disappeared into Lamont’s truck. Rasheed slammed the door shut. He went into the bathroom to look at his bruised face. But Rasheed didn’t have any time to feel sorry for himself. He had to get some sleep. He had some plans to make.
Chapter 31
Anwar
Two days later, in Five North, Anwar looked outside the small window of his cell. The rain made a thumping noise against the glass as he looked across the river and sighed. Anwar was thinking about his freedom. He had done a few bids in jail, but the ninety-day bid he was sentenced to probably was one of the hardest that he ever had to do.
Although he knew that he was going home soon, he still felt empty inside. He thought about not having the ability to love or trust anyone. He had no children, no close relationship with his family, and definitely had no one woman he could say that he even cared about. Deja, Lamont’s son’s mother, was a good person, but he walked all over her. Anwar knew that Deja was the type of woman who would try to run over a man if she could. He saw how she treated Lamont. So he took control. He took control of her money, monopolized her time, and manipulated his way into her life.
After an hour or so, Anwar collected his thoughts and managed to gather enough strength to walk downstairs to the phone. He hadn’t been feeling like himself lately, figuring that maybe he was coming down with a cold. As he made his way toward the telephones, he eyed the inmates that were using them at the time. One of the guys immediately hung up the phone when he saw Anwar, and walked towards the back of the housing area. The inmate knew that Anwar was nobody to mess with.
He picked up the phone and dialed Rasheed’s number. After about three rings, Rasheed picked up.
“Yo, what’s up with you?” Anwar said. “You can’t come see a nigga no more?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
“Man, I hate comin’ to Rikers Island,” replied Rasheed with an attitude.
“But I need you to come up here! You know my broad can’t come through. She could only send me packages and commissary money and what not. What I need is a visit. I have to get outta Five North for a few hours! This shit is drivin’ me crazy!”
Rasheed sighed and moved on to another topic. “Fuck all of that. Let’s talk about you. I thought you were my peoples, man.”
A look of confusion came over Anwar’s face, and he looked at the phone. “What are you talkin’ about, homie? You’re my nigga and I’m yours.”
“It may be a bad time to get into this shit right now, but do you have a problem with me, man?”
Anwar began to get impatient. “Nigga, what are you talkin’ about? I don’t have no fuckin’ problem with you!”
Rasheed’s voice went up a few notches. “Man, you know what—” he said, catching himself. “Well, I think you do. You have problem with me because you keep fuckin’ with my son’s mother!”
Anwar began laughing hysterically. “Oh, so the bitch went back and told you some shit about me, huh? She’s lyin’, homie.”
Rasheed sucked his teeth. “Yo, watch your fuckin’ mouth! That woman don’t have no reason to lie on you, A. Why are you fuckin’ with her?”
“’Cause the bitch has no loyalty!” screamed Anwar. Some of the inmates looked in his direction, trying to figure out what was going on.
“’Cause that bitch has no loyalty,” Anwar repeated in a softer tone. “She was supposed to be with you, not that other dude. You, her, and the baby was supposed to be a happy family. You can’t tell me you want another man raisin’ your baby, Rah! You seen what Russell was doin’ to me all them years, didn’t you?”
“I don’t need you to be in my business, man. She’s good with me. She’s gonna be my son’s mother forever. Don’t worry about her loyalty to me and don’t worry about who she fucks with. Just stay out of our business. Do your time, come home, and get your life together. Like, I’m dead serious right now.”
“I’m sayin’, Rah, sounds like you got a little beef with me! I thought that I would be doin’ you a favor by puttin’ these people in their place and I see you ain’t respectin’ that!”
“I respect that you wanna repay me, but, A, we were kids then. I did what I did because you were in trouble, man.”
Anwar rubbed his face like he wanted to peel the skin off. “I don’t appreciate this chick lyin’ on me, man.”
“She don’t have no reason to lie on you. She don’t have nothin’ to do with—” Anwar slammed the receiver down before Rasheed could finish his sentence.
Anwar looked at the clock on the wall and paced back and forth. He didn’t know what to do or how to feel. He was really losing it. His body felt as if someone was dripping hot wax all over him. Or maybe he was just that pissed off.
The next morning, Anwar arose from his bed after a night of tossing and turning. His eyes were bloodshot from madness and lack of sleep. He waited impatiently for Sierra to come to post. It was a weekend and normally, on the weekend there wasn’t as much inmate movement as there was on a weekday. During this time, inmates didn’t come out their cells until the early afternoon. This would only help Anwar carry out his next mission.
Anwar looked out his cell window and he observed Sierra walking into Five North looking a bit frazzled. Anwar studied her for a moment just to see what kind of mood she was in. She didn’t look too happy. Anwar smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait for breakfast to be served so that he could come out of his cell.
About an hour later, the pantry workers of Five North had breakfast prepared and ready to serve. Sierra instructed the officer in the control room to open the cells.
While inmates were filing in and out of the pantry, not paying attention to anything except the watery oatmeal on their trays, Anwar exited his cell. He waited until everyone was settled in the back of the housing area to eat their food and watch some television before he sprung into action.
As Sierra walked into the dark dayroom to get a chair for her desk, Anwar slowly crept up behind her and closed the door. To prevent her from screaming, Anwar put his hand over her mouth. She began to cry but Anwar was unfazed. He proceeded to put the homemade weapon he had in his possession to her neck.
“Shut the fuck up!” Anwar whispered, his saliva sprinkling her face. “What did I tell you would happen if you ran your mouth to anybody about me, huh?” Anwar licked her ear, and he could feel Sierra cringe. “Yo, lock this dayroom door and you better not try nothin’ stupid,” he whispered through clenched teeth. Still holding the weapon to the throat, Sierra removed the large Folgers key from the waistband of her uniform pants and did as she was told.
“Throw the keys on the floor,” he ordered. Sierra dropped the keys and Anwar kicked them into the corner. “I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but if you scream, I swear, I will cut your fuckin’ throat right here in this dayroom.”
He slowly removed his hand from her mouth. “Now pull off them fuckin’ uniform pants.”
Sierra began to cry even harder. “Why are you—” she said, contesting his demands. Anwar grabbed her by the throat with his free hand and pushed her against the wall. He put the shank up to her left eye.
“See, it’s bitches like you that make me sick to my stomach! You’re a fuckin’ needy bitch, got another nigga raisin’ Rasheed’s son! That nigga Lamont probably be beatin’ the shit out your son when you’re not around, and all because you need a man, you’ll let that go down! You’re a piece of shit just like my mother was!” He could feel her body shaking. Her obvious fear of him was turning him on. Sierra’s reaction was the same effect Russell had on him when he was a boy. Now someone was afraid of him. Anwar always felt a rush when he knew that he had put panic in someone’s heart. It gave him the power that he needed to carry out incorrigible acts.
He forcibly unbuttoned Sierra’s uniform pants while she stood there, crying and pleading with him. She began struggling with him, which he found to be amusing. They both knew that she was in a compromising position. What female correction officer would want to be caught in a dark dayroom with a male inmate? Even if she wasn’t guilty, she would still look like she was. On that job, reputation meant everything, and Sierra’s man was an assistant deputy warden. Anwar smiled just thinking about it.
As Sierra’s pants dropped to her ankles, Anwar tugged at her lacy panties and ripped them off in one pull. He stuffed the ripped undergarment into the pocket of his sweats. Still holding the cold metal against Sierra’s throat, he pulled down his sweats. He was aroused from musky scent of Sierra’s body. He forcibly kissed her on the lips. Sierra turned her head in disgust.
“Damn, you taste good, bitch,” Anwar said in a hoarse whisper. “Fuckin’ bitches. All of y’all broads.” Anwar rubbed on Sierra’s exposed vagina. “Didn’t I tell you that I was gonna get this pussy?”
Sierra whimpered and her body went limp. Anwar entered her from the front, forcing his manhood inside of her dry vagina. Anwar didn’t want doggie-style sex. He wanted to feel the warmth of her minty smelling breath on his face. He ground and ground inside of Sierra, causing her to squeal with pain. It was dark in the dayroom but he could imagine her expression. Her fear of him was what was giving him the most pleasure as he pummeled Sierra’s vagina with his penis.
“Ooh, shit,” Anwar moaned with pleasure. “This pussy is so good, bitch. This pussy is so good. I can see why Rasheed wanted you so bad. Ooh, I love this pussy.”
“I hate you, Anwar, I hope you die,” Sierra managed to say through clenched teeth and tears. Anwar put the shank near her throat again. He began poking her in the neck with the pointy end of the weapon as he continued to grind inside of her.
“This pussy is so moist. You been wantin’ me too, huh?” Anwar asked. Sierra cried even harder as the point on the shank kept poking her in the side of her neck. One wrong move and she was a goner.
Anwar didn’t care. He was in pain too: emotional and psychological pain. The physical scars from his abuse were long gone, but there were other unseen scars that were still there.
Anwar felt as if he was about to explode. He took his rod out of her and forced Sierra to get on her knees. Once she did that, Anwar grabbed her by hair and forced his penis into her mouth. He chuckled as he listened to her gag. He then pulled it out and began to jerk off in Sierra’s face.
“Bitch, open your mouth so that you can swallow this nut!” he whispered.
Sierra resisted and Anwar slapped her. She cried softly but she did what she was told. Suddenly, Anwar let out a load of semen in her face. He was satisfied as he listened to her moan in horror. She immediately began choking.
Anwar’s legs were weak from ejaculating, almost stumbling over Sierra as she sat on the cold floor and whimpered softly. She made no attempt to put her pants back on as Anwar got himself together. Losing patience with her display of emotion, he lifted Sierra to her feet with one hand.
“Shut the fuck up and put them fuckin’ pants back on!” he whispered while listening to the cell doors closing. Fifteen minutes had passed and it was time to lock in. “You don’t wanna get caught like this, do you? The only thing that I’m gonna say is that you gave it up willingly, and who do you think they’re gonna believe?”
Sierra wiped her face and mouth with the bottom of her dark blue uniform shirt. Anwar went into his pocket, fishing for the panties that he ripped from Sierra’s petite frame. He pulled them out and sniffed them.
“I’m gonna keep these ripped panties as evidence. So tell somebody somethin’ else if you want. I will give these panties to your man Lamont.” Sierra was silent as she slid into her pants. “Fuckin’ whore! Hurry up and open this door before I kill your ass. Make it quick because they need you on this post out here.” Sierra crawled around the floor until she found the keys. She hurried to open the door.
Anwar shoved the ripped panties into his pocket and walked back to his cell. Once he was inside and his cell door was locked, he laid back on the mattress, not even attempting to wash the stench of Sierra’s vagina off his lower region. He sniffed Sierra’s panties and sighed heavily. Having some regrets about what he had done, he thought about his stepfather, Russell Jones, and what he used to make the young Anwar do to him.
“Get on your knees, boy!” ordered Russell. “Suck this big black dick before your mama gets home.”
The twelve-year-old Anwar was frozen with fear and disgust. He began to cry. “I don’t wanna! I ain’t no fag,” said Anwar. All of a sudden, Russell slapped him so hard, his nose began to bleed.
“Do what I say, little nigga! Or else I’m gonna stomp a mudhole in your ass!”
Anwar hesitated.
“Now!” Russell screamed.
Anwar wiped the blood from his nose and reluctantly got on his knees. Russell pulled out his grown man’s penis and had sex with Anwar’s mouth. Russell’s eyes rolled in his head while his stepson gagged. As Anwar wiped his tears and drool, Russell pulled out and ejaculated all over his face and clothing.
“Now get out my face and go clean yourself up!” Russell said to him, obviously ashamed of what he had his stepson do to him.
Although the physical abuse was evident, Anwar never told one single soul about Russell’s sexual abuse, not even Rasheed. He sat upright and held his head in his hands. Anwar realized that he was no better than his abuser, Russell Jones. He wreaked havoc wherever he went. Now he had violated his one true friend, Rasheed, in the worst way, by forcing himself on the mother of his child. It was that moment when Anwar realized that maybe Rasheed should have killed him instead of Russell.
Chapter 32
Sierra
A half hour after the run-in with Anwar, Sierra couldn’t bear to leave the dayroom. Humiliated and afraid, she was still sitting on the cold floor of the dayroom. She couldn’t believe what had just happened to her.
I’ve been raped, she thought. I can’t believe that he raped me.
She didn’t know what to do or who to tell. With the rumors floating around about her and Rasheed, she was hesitant to say anything to anyone. How does a female correction officer get raped on Rikers Island? The department was so sexist that she would be looked upon as the bad guy. Anwar was an inmate, but he was a man and she was a woman. No one would believe her. Sierra knew that she couldn’t afford to lose her job now, especially after she had seemingly got away with the Rasheed situation. This would have to be a secret.
Sierra finally got the strength to stand up and pull herself together. It was still early in the morning and 7:00 a.m. roll call was about to start in a half an hour. The inmates were locked in and she walked off post to go to the bathroom. The control room officer was too busy yapping on the phone to even notice that Sierra’s clothing and hair were in disarray.
Sierra closed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror. She began crying softly as she wet some paper towels and wiped the dried cum stains from her face. Her hand went to her neck, which had been scraped up by the point on Anwar’s shank. The skin was bruised but not broken. Her uniform collar was irritating it, and she felt as if she wanted to rip the skin off her body. She was so disgusted with herself, with the people that she was involved with, and with life as she knew it. What was she doing so wrong to deserve all of this bad luck?
After being in the bathroom for ten minutes, her coworker tapped on the door.
“Howell, are you okay in there, girl?” the female officer asked.
Sierra pulled herself together. “Oh, yeah, Banks, I’m good! Just needed a moment to myself to meditate, that’s all,” she replied.
“Oh, okay. For a minute there, it sounded like you were cryin’.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Sierra rolled her eyes and looked in the mirror. “So damn nosey!” she said under her breath. “Where the fuck was she when I needed her to be nosey?”
After a few more minutes passed, Sierra finally found the energy to freshen up. Her world was crumbling around her, and she didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she wanted Anwar to die, and she had never wished death on anyone.
Sierra came out of the bathroom and rushed back onto her post, avoiding any eye contact with Banks. She attempted to write in her logbook, but it was going to be impossible to concentrate on anything else after what Anwar had done to her.
She thought back to other night at Rasheed’s house. She didn’t know who Rasheed had been fighting at first, but when she saw that it was Lamont, she knew that there was going to be trouble among the three of them. Their relationship had already been pushed to exceeding boundaries, and her being caught red-handed at Rasheed’s house was probably the last straw. She was sure of it.
When Sierra got into Lamont’s car that night, he tried to slap her. Sierra went off, digging her nails into his right cheek. Lamont’s hand went to his face, and when he saw the blood, he tried to go ballistic on Sierra, only she wasn’t having it. She fought Lamont like she was Tina and he was Ike Turner. In retrospect, she was. She was tired of being a doormat and a magnet for drama. She was sick of revolving her life around what other people thought of her. She was done with being a do girl for the New York City Department of Correction, and she had it with being controlled by the men in her life.
