Why you walking like that?
First of all, O knew she didn't have much experience sexually, but when they started fukking, apparently he was going harder in the paint than Flocka. when she asked him to take it easy, son went harder. Cindy was like 5'4, 100 pounds. O was 6'5, 240. She showed me the bruises all over her things, her ass, and her back. They weren't all from O, turns out. 10 minutes after they started fukking, 4 or 5 (I can't remember how many, but it was definitely either 4 or 5) of his teammates walked into the room. Son had left the door open on purpose, but played it off like it was an accident. The detail I recall most clearly from what shorty told me was that one of his teammates was looking at her on the bed getting fukked with a big ass grin, singing this song that went "at night, I think of you... if your game is on, give me a call boo." to this day I feel kind of sick if I hear that shyt playing.
Anyway, O was like "I'm sorry I forgot to lock the door. But now that my nikkas are here, can they live? We share everything. We're like brothers." Mind you, from the time the door opened he never even pulled out of her. She was on her back mad compromised, a naive, corny ass, tiny chick with a dikk inside her and a gang of big ass football nikkas starting to undo their pants. And mind you it took her at least a full hour to get this whole story out to me through tears. She was convulsing from crying and shyt. I told her to report that shyt. She was like "but I said it was okay." Why? "I was scared. I was scared they would do it even if I said no. When I said yes it felt like I at least had some say in it." I feel sick in my heart even remembering this shyt right now.
Her friends weren't sympathetic at all, by the way. And the nikkas who did the shyt would smile right in her face whenever they saw her, they'd go out of their way to be like "What up, Cindy?" Mad heartless, mad twisted. I stepped to O about it and not only did dude tell me she was lying and I needed to mind my business, he showed up at my room a week later with at least a dozen other nikkas to beat the shyt out of me. The only shyt that saved me was a little cornerback on the team (who ended up in the NFL) somehow defusing the shyt because we were mad cool at the time. Otherwise I would've gotten beaten to a fukking pulp, no doubt. and no doubt in my mind it would've been covered up.
Cindy refused to tell anyone in a position of authority about what happened, and she told me if I said anything to anyone she would just deny it happened. By the next semester Cindy got a room change, and went back to hanging exclusively with white people. After a while, she wouldn't even acknowledge me when we crossed paths in the dining hall or the bookstore or on the main strip. My knowledge of her shame made her feel weak and self-loathing, I'm sure. And I have no doubt she has gone through a lot of therapy in the years that passed.
The very last time I saw her was inside a popular sub shop on the main strip. She was sitting at a table with 3 white dudes, one of whom was clearly her boyfriend. He was the cheesiest, safest looking white dude you can imagine - plaid shorts, neat blonde hair, sandals. She was excitedly telling them a story about something, and when me and my homie passed by looking for a place to sit, she saw us, went dead silent mid-story, dropped her eyes and grabbed her boyfriend's hand. Rome and I sat down for a minute, looked at each other, got right back up, and took our burgers to go. Got in his truck and drove around for a good hour before either of us said a fukking word.
I can honestly say all of the shyt I witnessed at that particular college and especially the shyt with Cindy changed the way I dealt with women overall, because I could see that the way a man treats women is essentially a reflection of his estimation of himself; for those nikkas to do shorty that foul meant they had such a warped sense of who they were and who they could be in the world that it was chilling to contemplate.
All of what I just recounted haunts me to this day.
@ my former manager at work always kissing me and giving extra long hugs.
