The average person walking around in society today lives in a self-imposed bubble of ignorance. Like if they pretend their little reality is all sunshine and roses, the darkness of the world doesn’t exist close to them. They choose to ignore the necessary evil that exists around them every single day. Close enough to touch. In their backyard. Maybe even in their own bed.
My first initiation into evil was when I was younger than most. Then again, I was born with a piece of it in me. Simmering deep under the surface. Though my grandmother had taught me to control it, there was no eradicating it. So I’d learned to embrace it when the need arose and bury it when it wasn’t necessary.
Sometimes I buried it in alcohol, sometimes drugs, other times, women. When those things weren’t available, I kept it tightly leashed. Gnashing its teeth, straining at its tethers, and burning relentlessly.
I’m Ogun “Voodoo” Dupré, and this is my story.
Six Years Old…
“Ogun, get your backpack, baby. Hurry. Granmè is waiting for us.” My mama was rushing me, and I was dragging my feet. I was hungry. I wanted a snack before we left.
“Mama, I want a snack.” I pouted as my shoulders hunched.
“Not now.” She glanced over her shoulder to the front door. The rumble of Papa’s bike was coming down the road. The ever-present blend of fear and excitement bubbled in my belly.
Papa terrified me, but I wanted so badly to earn his approval.
“Shit,” Mama whispered. “Go to your room. Don’t come out until I tell you to.”
“But I want a snack,” I whined.
“Ogun! Go! This is not the time.” Mama looked scared, and I hated it. It scared me when she was scared. That’s why I went to my room. Not because I wanted to.
When I heard the door crash open, I scurried into my closet. In the darkness, I hid as Mama cried and Papa screamed.
“You leave me and you do it without my son, bitch!” Papa shouted. I didn’t want to stay without my mama. I didn’t understand why Papa would say that. There was more he said that I didn’t hear.
Once the front door slammed and I heard Papa’s bike start up, I crawled out of the closet and went to find Mama. She was curled up on the floor. Crying but quiet, she stared into space.
“Mama?” I whispered. Pushing her hair out of her face, I kneeled down to make her look at me.
“Ogun.” She coughed, and blood came out. It ran onto her chin and the floor. “I told you not to come out.”
“Mama, you’re hurt.” Fear swirled and churned inside me. Except that time, it started to mix with something powerful. Something bigger than me and angry. So terribly angry.
The glass of water on the coffee table flew to the wall and shattered.
Startled, I jumped. Mama’s eyes went wide, and she pushed herself up on her arms, then to sitting as she winced. Shaking hands grabbed my arms. “Ogun,” she choked out.
That was the first time I knew my Papa might not be the man I thought he was. He’d been my hero until that day. Then again, what did a six-year-old know? That was also the first time I saw something that terrified me—and it wasn’t my mother’s battered face.
“Mama?” I questioned as my vision distorted. As if I was in a haze, I knew she held my hand and I knew she was calling my name, but I couldn’t respond.
The room went dark around me, and only a small frame of light shone. It was like watching a movie. First, I saw my father drive a large knife into my mother’s chest. Everything went black for a moment. Then, I saw my grandmother rushing me and my mother into a car. We ducked in the back seat, and I crouched on the floor while Mama lay across the seat, a large red mark on her white shirt.
We drove and drove until we met with men I didn’t recognize. Everyone was talking, but I couldn’t hear them. Then, everything got fuzzy.
Feeling disoriented, I blinked as a frown furrowed my forehead. My words sounded slurred even to my young ears. “Mama, Papa hurt you but Granmè is gonna take us away.”
My mother’s eyes went huge and she looked out the window. There was a man on a motorcycle with the same vest as my Papa. I’d seen him before, but I didn’t know him. Mama made me stay in my room when Papa’s friends came over.
“Get me my phone, Ogun,” she whispered and pointed to her phone under the chair across the room. It took a few seconds for my arms and legs to work right but once they did, I scurried to bring it to her.
Whimpering, she scooted herself to lean against the couch. She put the phone to her ear, and I heard her say, “Ma, I need your help. It’s Ogun. He saw something.” Her eyes darted to me, then out the window.
The entire situation scared me, because I had no idea what was going on. Because I didn’t know what else to do, I sat down next to my mother and curled into her side. Her arm wrapped around me, and we sat in silence.
A knock at the door sometime later brought my head up quickly. Glancing in fear toward the knock, I then looked to my Mama for guidance.