“No. I watched a few times after that, but only when I knew there were other people in there, not just my mother.”
“And were those experiences similar?”
“For the most part. There was some variety to it, but every night seemed to reinforce the theme of pain equaling pleasure.”
“Did your mother ever find out that you watched?”
A long pause. “Yes,” Samantha answers in a small voice.
“What was that night like?”
She laughs. It's a bitter sound. “I think it’s safe to say it was one of the worst nights of my life.” She pauses again, as if to gather strength to relive that night in the retelling of it. “It was a Tuesday. I’d had a date that night. I was sixteen and he was my very first boyfriend. He’d taken me to the movies then dropped me back off at home a little after nine. I was too excited to sleep, so I was awake when she came in. It was just after eleven. She and her…guests went straight to her bedroom. It was probably fifteen or twenty minutes later when I got up to go to the bathroom. Her door was wide open this time, which was a first. As I passed, I only saw her and one guy. He looked a little familiar, but I didn’t really think much of it. I always tried to look away from Mom when I happened to see her. It was as I was going back to bed that I saw him sitting in the corner of the room.”
“Who?” I ask, but she doesn’t hear me.
“I thought at first my eyes were playing tricks on me, but when I saw Jamie’s letterman’s jacket crumpled on the floor, I knew it was him. It was Jamie Nunley, my boyfriend.” There’s a faraway, pained look in her eyes as she stares straight ahead. She’s lost in the past. “He was sitting in a chair across from the bed with his pants unzipped, jacking off as he watched one of his football buddies screw my mom.”
When she doesn’t continue, I give her a few minutes to collect herself before I ask my next question. “What did you do?”
“I gasped. I couldn’t help it. I was…stunned. I tried to cover my mouth, but I wasn’t quite quick enough. Jamie looked toward the door and smiled. I’m sure that’s who opened it to begin with. Anyway, I ran back to my room. He followed me. I thought he’d try to explain it or make up some crazy excuse, but he didn’t. It’s almost like he wanted me to see. I tried to shut my door on him, but I couldn’t get it closed fast enough. He pushed it open and came in. Just walked right into my room like he hadn’t been doing what he was doing. He was smiling, even. I got mad, of course. I slapped him. And it felt so good. Until he slapped me back. From there, the angrier I got, the more it seemed to turn him on. Finally, he grabbed me and threw me on the bed and started kissing me. I struggled. Told him over and over to get off me, but he seemed to like it the more I fought him. He slapped me a few times. Harder and harder each time. ‘Oh, so that’s how you like it, huh? Like your mom? You like it rough, baby?’ I was terrified by then. I reached up and scratched his face. I’d have done anything to get him off me. But that just made him madder. That’s when he pinned my arms underneath me so I couldn’t move them, so I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t even stop him when he reached between my legs.”
When Samantha stops, I don’t prompt her to continue. I’m letting her recover as I digest what she’s told me thus far, what she’s been through and how she must’ve felt when I took her to the club.
“I started screaming and Mom finally heard. She came in and made him leave before he could rape me.” Another bitter laugh. “After he was gone, she went to her room for a long time. I kept expecting her to come and comfort me, but when she finally came out, she was furious. The funny thing is: She wasn’t angry with Jamie. She was angry with me.”
I grit my teeth in anger. I’ve never been able to understand parents who could stand by and watch their children be hurt.
“So she didn’t have any sympathy for what you’d been through?”
“No. She said the whole thing was my fault for being out of bed when she had visitors. She accused me of doing something to bring Jamie to my bedroom, to lead him on. She said that I’d gotten what I deserved for being a c**k tease. She said I should’ve left him with her.”
“So she didn’t see anything wrong with doing things like that with your boyfriend?”
“No, she just couldn’t understand why I’d be upset by it.”
When she doesn’t go on, I ask, “And then what happened?”
“Word got around school pretty fast about what my mom was into, and what people were saying that I was into. There were rumors about people paying me and my mom for threesomes and rumors that she was my pimp. I got…approached a couple of times. Scared me pretty bad. Once was in the chemistry lab after school. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Luckily, one of the teachers happened to come by. She’d already been hearing the talk. I was a mess by then. She called Social Services. Naturally, they investigated. When they talked to my mother, she didn’t even try to deny it. I think she sort of wanted to be rid of me. She didn’t fight it at all when they took me from her and put me into foster care.”
There is resignation in her voice. She must’ve come to terms with her mother’s inability to love her a long time ago.
“Have she ever attempted to find you since then?”
“Yes. She spent two years in prison. After that, I saw her at school twice. Both times, she was across the street, watching me as I walked to my car. The look she gave me…” Samantha shivers.
“Do you think she would’ve hurt you?”
“I don’t know, but she sure looked angry. Maybe she blamed me. I don’t know.”
“Were you afraid?”
She shrugs. “A little, I guess. Enough to tell my foster parents.”
“What did they do?”
“I don’t know, but I never saw her again after that.”
“And how do you feel about that now?”
“I feel relieved. I don’t ever want her to find me.”
“Hence the disguise.”
She nods. “I don’t want her in my life anymore. Meeting the people that I call my parents was one of the best things to ever happen to me. They took me in, loved me like I was their own. Made me part of the family. Gave me a life, helped me to start over. They even moved us across the county line so I wouldn’t have to go back to the same school. When I tell people they saved my life, I’m not really exaggerating. It’s hard to tell what would’ve become of me had I stayed with my birth mother.”