Dirty Little Secrets by Joy King

mascara. I took off all my clothes, put them in a plastic bag, and planned to toss them in the trash.
     I pulled back the floral shower curtain and turned the knob to Hot. I stepped inside and let the burning water drench my hair
     and entire body. I was hoping all the evil that had just violated my body would be washed away. That was the best I could
     hope for. After going over my options, I decided to keep this horrific night to myself. I convinced myself that I got what
     I deserved for even going to the prom with Chad. The shame I felt was too much to share with anyone, let alone my parents
     or the police. This was a chapter of my life I would put behind me. Or so I thought.
    In the months after the rape, I fell into a deep depression. I did a good job hiding it from my family and friends, but every
     night I would cry myself to sleep. With Ella away at college, Mother focusing on her social life, and Daddy traveling more
     and more on his socalled business trips, the only person I had was Trey. Besides going to school, I spent all my time with
     him. We had beentogether for over a year, but our relationship had begun taking on a different dimension.
    One day Trey arrived to take me to a barbecue at his friend Patrick’s house. I colored my normally black hair a lighter brown
     and wore a snug-fitting halter dress. As soon as I stepped in the car, the insults started. “Why did you dye your hair that
     color? It looks nasty because it washes out your complexion. And that dress makes you look fat,” he said, even though I was
     no more than a hundred and fifteen pounds. The other side of Trey was showing its ugly face, and it was far from the fun-loving
     guy I fell in love with. Trey was screwed up emotionally and I was already unstable, so he started to screw me up even more.
    “I like my hair color, and I think this dress fits me good,” I replied confidently, trying to mask how bad Trey had hurt my
     feelings.
    “I didn’t ask you what you think. You don’t know anything anyway. I’m a man. I know what looks good and what doesn’t. Trust
     me, you look like shit.”
    For the entire barbecue I sat in a corner feeling too insecure to walk around or mingle with anybody. After that day Trey’s
     cruelty became an all-out daily assault that slowly chipped away my self-esteem and left me lacking confidence.
    Trey was excited about his new apartment and finally having no roommate. Between going to school during the day and promoting
     parties at night, he was making decent money and was able to afford a one-bedroom unit in a brand-new luxury apartment complex.
     In Trey’s bedroom I was unpacking a box full of tapes, CDs, and videocassettes when I came across a tape that had “Joy Time”
     written in bold black ink. It was dated a monthearlier. Curious, I slid it in the VCR. An image flashed across the screen—it was Trey, sitting on the couch in his old apartment,
     speaking into the camera. Then he walked over to the camera, took it from someone’s hand, and turned the camera on her. It
     was a pretty ebony-complexioned woman in her early twenties. I heard Trey’s voice in the background, saying, “Come on, Nikki,
     do a striptease show for me.” Music was playing in the background, and then another young woman stepped into the camera’s
     view.
    “That’s right, ladies. Move that ass to the music. Take it all off.” The women were now completely naked and grinding to reggae
     music. “Play with each other’s tits while Daddy watches.” The women were rubbing each other down and sucked each other’s nipples
     like they were babies nursing. The whole scene was bizarre. I had never seen two women making out before. Right when I was
     about to push Eject, Trey propped the camcorder in a prime position. He was now butt naked, frolicking with the ladies.
    “Come here, Stephanie,” Trey said, grabbing her gigantic ass. She was giggling as she made her way toward him. “I want you
     to deep throat it