20 Years Ago.
It was shouting "faggot" on the school bus. Bolting off with me at my stop. Stalking me home. Twisting my bones on the sidewalk. Kicking me black. Saying, "This is a test." Smelling of cigarettes and cologne. Locking hands over my mouth.
It was my welcome. My lesson. My seed.
15 Years Ago.
It was spitting on me in the hallway. Stealing my lunch. Crafting lies. Pointing fingers. Leaving threats. Obsessing with what it would do to me.
It was my catalyst. My soil. My water.
10 Years Ago.
It was holding her down. Laughing when I told that I saw. Consuming innocence. Ruining as it'd been ruined. Blaming the victim. Pounding its chest. Bragging about the whore it’d just made.
It was my reason. My testament. My sprout.
5 Years Ago.
It was already breeding. Evolving its wickedness. Ignoring three kids. Skipping graduation. Getting drunk. Driving fast. Adding to its kills. Walking away. Committing to forgetting. Demanding we forgive.
It was my hate. My shoots. My roots.
It was squatting. Drinking under a bridge. Harassing. Raping. Stealing. Beating. Wondering why I showed up that night. Asking me when I became a cop. Telling me he was unarmed. Begging me to “put the gun down.”
It was my moment. My fruit. My harvest.
I make wine of my fruit. Blood-red wine. It runs into the river under the bridge. Wine into water. Not water into wine. Nothing holy here. No miracles.
Good-bye, you piece of shit.
Benjamin Sobieck is the author of the crime novel, "Cleansing Eden." His website is www.CrimeFictionBook.com.