Soul Food Pt. 01

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Soul Food part one



Thanks WA001 for the edits.


Ten years ago…

A raggedy, dirty, homeless boy was scurrying through the trash of the home of a wealthy black couple. His thin limbs shivered as he dug for scraps that had been thrown away. He didn’t like doing this, yet it was better than staying at the home the agency had placed him in. He tried to help. He really did. Yet no one, not his case worker, not the cops, no one believed him. Then once they were all gone he got beaten within an inch of his life. Once he was healed enough to walk he fled that house. The first night out on the street was the scariest of his life. He was given up as a baby, so he didn’t know his mother or where to look for her if he even wanted to. Still, he did try to help the girls that were still in that house. However, since being on the streets he learned no one cared enough to lend a hand, you were on your own.

“Jack pot!” The disheveled boy said, as he held open the pizza box. “Pineapple?! Who puts pineapple on pizza!”

“Ew! Daddy! Some boy is eating out of the garbage!” Shawna called out for her father.

He stood there like a deer caught in the headlights before the box fell from his hands. He knew from the months he’s been on the streets of what to expect from being found out. He had thought he was quiet; his hunger and the cold got the better of him. Turning to run, yet strong hands took a hold of him by the shoulders.

“Boy?! What are you doing… my God, Helen!” He tried to wiggle out of the man’s grip, he knew if he was too rough he would tear the only piece of clothing he had that wasn’t filled with holes to stave off the cold. His head shot back as the man squatted down, his big thumb pulling down the boy’s lower eyelid looking for signs of malnutrition.

“Where’re your parents?” He could see concern in the man’s big brown eyes. Tilting his head at the strange word. What exactly were parents?”

“I don’t have any,” he said, wondering when the man was going to let him go.

“George what is it?” Helen asked, walking out in a dark blue dress shirt. Her black skirt hugged her hips tightly, her ebony hair brushed along her jawline as she walked hurriedly to the side of the house.

“Fetch some of Will’s old clothes, and fix a plate for a hungry boy,” George said, over his shoulder as his wife rounded the corner.

“Boy?! What… oh my… sweety look at you!” Helen’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the boy no older than her daughter. “When’s the last time you had a bath?!”

“What day is it?” He asked, as he looked up at Helen.

“It’s Thanksgiving, do you know what that is?” Helen asked, her warm smile spread along her lush, full lips. “Well come,” she held out her hands to him when the boy shook his head, “we’ll teach you what it is.” Shooting her husband a nod knowing they would be taking the boy in for the night. It was the least they could do. She for one wasn’t about to allow him to wander the streets, not with how cold it was going to get that night. “So when was it, when you last had a bath that is?”

“When I ran away,” He stated wondering why these people were being so nice.

“Why did you run away?” Shawna asked, peering around his back.

“They were hurting them, I tried to help, I really did. Yet no one believed me. I got this…” Pulling up his shirt, showing the red jagged scar he had gotten from the beating six months ago. “For trying to stop the bad man from hurting them.” Pulling down his dirty, filthy, weather beaten shirt at their gasps.

“What do you mean hurting them?” Helen asked, her DA instincts kicking in.

“Every night when I was placed in that house. I’d hear the girls there cry and scream.”

“Was there a girl like me there?” Helen asked, her hands gesturing to her adult body.

“Yes, but she couldn’t hear. She talked like this,” He said, moving his fingers around.

“You mean she was deaf?” George inquired.

“I guess…” He shrugged his shoulders. “So can I go now?”

“Go?! Son… What’s your name by the way?” George asked, knowing his wife, she would be putting in a call to her office the moment they got the boy settled.

“I’ve been called lots of things,” he said, as he hadn’t heard the worst of it.

“Like what?” Shawna asked, her interest peeked.

“Ass. Son of a whore. Nothing but a waste of space. If I didn’t need that check…”

“Okay. How about we call you Donny, would you like that?” Helen asked, trying not to tear up. Her heart nearly broke when the boy simply shrugged his shoulders. She couldn’t think of what this white, dirty, boy had been through the months he’s been on the street given the state of his clothes. Obviously, he had found the pair of pants he was wearing somewhere. Did his best to keep them up with the bit of rotten rope. Still she knew even with that his t-shirt would do no good with the dropping temperatures as she saw his teeth chattering.

“So can I go?” Donny asked, once again.

“Donny, you’re staying with us tonight,” George said, in a stern but warm voice. “I bet you’re starving… I take that as a yes,” he chuckled as Donny’s stomach answered him. “We have a nice turkey, dressing, green beans, yams, sweet potato pie, collard greens. Would you izmir escort bayan like some?” George asked, with warm caring eyes. Flashing Donny a toothy grin as he nodded. “But first we’ll going to have to give you a bath. Will that be okay?”

“Why are you being so nice?” Donny asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because it’s the right thing to do, Donny,” Helen said, the back of her fingers ran down his left cheek. Her hand squeezed her husband’s forearm tightly as Donny inadvertently recoiled as if he’s been struck. How she just wanted to take him into his arms.

“How about we go get you cleaned up and into some warm clothes,” George said, keeping his anger at bay at those that would cause a boy so young such pain.

“Then I can eat?” Donny asked, tilting his head. Wondering why he needed to be clean. He was just going to get dirty once they kick him out.

“Until this tummy is nice and big,” Helen stated. Her nails scratching along his stomach causing Donny to giggle. She thought that smile was just beautiful and that giggle just as cute as a button.

“I’ll get Will to dig through his clothes and see if we can’t find him something to wear for the night,” George said, as he took hold of Donny’s right hand.

“I think I can rangle your mother and my sister in helping me clean this little one up,” Helen said, smiling down at Donny as she held his left hand as they walked to the front door of their home.

“I want to help too!” Shawna said, running up to her mother’s side.

“You can fix up the couch in the den for Donny,” Helen said, brushing her hand along her daughter’s hair.

“Helen why are you bringing that dirty cracker into this house?” Stan, George’s brother, asked as the family noted the sound of the door. Unlike George, Stan had dropped out of school and took to the gang life. He had just gotten out of prison after five years. Where he had gotten his GED only because his mother told him it was the last time she was going to put him up once he got out, the next time if or when he went in he was on his own. She was tired of it. Then again, it would be his third strike and that would mean life. Stan wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t want to be in prison for life. He hated the last five years.

“Who I bring into my home is none of your damn business!” Helen hissed as her eyes narrowed.

“Stan!” The smack, Dorthey — George’s and Stan’s mother — gave upside her son’s head resounded through the house. “I raised you better!”


“Don’t you Ma me! I should beat…” Her voice trailed off as she dragged her son out of the rear door of her son’s home.

“Helen he does ask a, while crude, but important question, so why did you bring that boy into your house?” Suzie — Helen’s sister — asked her older sister. Her sweater sat tight to her chest detailing her 32B breasts. Her low cut jeans hugged her hips as her brown eyes gazed at Donny.

“Really sis? Are you blind? If you can’t see that this boy needs help then I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Helen sighed shaking her head.

“But that’s what the cops are for…”

“So the boy can be held at a police station for who knows how long until child services finally shows up, and that’s if they can find someone on a holiday. When I, and my husband, have a nice big house, lots of space, and plenty of food to share with a starving boy. Are you telling me I should just turn a blind eye to him?” Helen asked her sister heatedly.

“Any of you that have a problem with this, there’s the door, see yourselves out,” George growled gesturing to the front door. “Those that don’t live in this house don’t have a voice in this matter, am I clear!” His eyes looked around at his in-laws who nodded in support, and his relatives were tight lipped thinking the boy would be better off elsewhere.

“You have crackers?!” Donny asked, his stomach rumbled in agreement. “Are they yummy crackers?”

Helen released a soft giggle as Donny looked up at her with those soft green eyes. “We do… but those will spoil your appetite, and I plan on feeding you some hot, yummy, filling food. But first… bath time!”

“Go on, I’ll find Will,” George said, winking at his wife. He loved this side of her. He knew she’s been wanting another child for so long since Shawna had started middle school seeing she no longer needed that much supervision.

“Do you need help?” Dorthey asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen once she had given her youngest son a tongue lashing.

“Yes… I think this one is going to be a handful,” Helen said, smiling down at Donny giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Casting her sister a glance before she lead Donny to the downstairs bathroom.

Helen and Dorthey gasped as a large shard of glass wrapped in tape, and a switch blade tumbled out of the pants Donny was wearing.

“Donny! Why do you have these?!” Helen asked, worryingly.

“I’m small. Small things don’t last on the streets, lots of bad people out there that would like to do… things. Small things need something to protect themselves from the bad ones,” Donny said, in that distant tone.

“But Donny, you aren’t a small thing, you’re a person, a human being,” Helen said, lovingly. Tears began to gather in her eyes at the confused look in his eyes.

“What’s escort izmir a person…?” Donny was taken aback as Dorthey and Helen wrapped him in hug not caring if their clothes got dirty due to his soiled body. He could hear Helen whisper: ‘What did they do to you?!’

“Honey! What happened to you?!” Dorthey shrieked as they pulled off Donny’s shirt exposing all the scars he had gotten from abusive homes.

“George!” Helen yelled. The sound of feet thundered through the house.

“What is it?!” George asked, thrusting open the door. His eyes widening in terror as he saw the massive scars on the boy’s back. It seemed to him not an inch of his skin didn’t have a scar marring it.

“Get my phone and the camera!” Helen said, her voice trembling.

“Holy!” Stan stood there in shock as he took note of the life the boy had lived.

“Don’t just stand there, either close the damn door or… something!” Dorthey snapped at her son as all the members of both families tried to push their way into the doorway.

“Donny, don’t, it’s okay,” Helen whispered as he fumbled to try and put his shirt back on. “No one is going to hurt you,” she said, in a pleading voice, yet she could see he didn’t believe a word.

“Stan?! What are you doing?” George asked, seeing his brother setting down a sheet in the den. His eyes flickering to the barber kit that sat on the seat of the wooden chair.

“Okay, I was an ass,” Stan muttered as he placed his kit on the coffee table. The white sanex strip sat beside the cape. Scissors, combs, clippers, and anything else he might need sat snuggly in their pockets, tools he had gotten when he was in prison. He knew he was a screw up; Stan wasn’t planning on screwing up again. “Thought I could give the boy a haircut… I’ve done some things, things I’ll always regret, but who can do that to a kid?!”

“I know…” The two brother’s hugged for a long time both contemplating on the evil that still lingers in the world.


“Now Donny do you mind if I take some pictures of you?” Helen asked, once they had finally gotten all the dirt off of his body. She tried not to let the sight of the scars get to her, yet that was easier said than done.

“Pictures?! Why?” Donny asked, going on the defensive. Wondering if they were one of the bad ones.

“So I can make sure the bad ones that did this to you are punished and help those girls,” Helen said, as she knelt on the floor.

“You believe… me?” Donny asked, tilting his head.

“Oh honey… anyone would if they saw…” Dorthey’s lip trembled.

Donny looked at Dorthey, he had liked her, she made him laugh. He had forgotten what that was like. On the street, during the night he learned how to be silent, so the bad ones never found him. “You can make them go away and help the girls?” Donny asked, looking at Helen.

“Oh yes! I’ll make sure they get everything coming to them,” Helen said, nodding her head vehemently. “I can try to find your mother too, if you like.”


“Wouldn’t you like to be with her?” Helen asked, confused at his tone.

“No, she left me, so I don’t want her either,” Donny said sternly, with a nod.

“Okay, I think that would be enough,” Helen said, laying the polaroid on the sink counter. “Do you remember the address of the place with the bad man and the girls?”

“Mmmhmm,” Donny hummed. “Had to remember it so I wouldn’t be near it when I looked for food.”

“Can you tell me it?”

“1132 Conway Rd.”

“Okay, see now your clean and that’s taken care of, let’s eat!” Helen said, smiling warmly at Donny once they dressed him in Will’s old clothes. Dorthey nodded to Helen as she lead Donny to the kitchen.

Helen paced the hallway as she contacted her office, detailing how and what she saw of Donny’s injures, then contacting social services. She knew no one would answer, the office was closed; yet she left a message with the director informing them of the boy they have in their custody and to contact her the moment they get the message. She really would like to know what Donny’s real name was. As soon as she called the necessary people, and the police, she began to weep, burying her face in her husband’s chest as she felt him wrapping her in his arm.


Eight years later…

Helen stood at the sink in the kitchen as she prepared to make lunch for her family on that Saturday afternoon. A loving smile formed on her lips as she thought back to the first time Denis (Donny’s real name once she had reported to social services the Monday after the holiday), had a genuine smile on his lips. It was hard, so hard, nevertheless, she was granted the right to adopt Denis. She wasn’t about to allow him to go through any more than what he had already been through. Was life hard for them during the first year? Yes. She always found little things hidden away that told her he was ready to run if he had to. She knew it would take time to earn his trust given his past. And yet that day did come, how her heart wept when for the very first time Denis held her hand all on his own. Then tears when he hugged her out of the blue, then the most joyous thing happened he told her he loved her and called her Mom for the very first time.

Helen knew he struggled in school; izmir escort it took a lot of hard work to get Denis up to par with the peers of his age. She had heard his frustration as he worked on his homework. While she wanted him to go to college, that dream was only a dream. If her son wanted to he could stay with her and George for the rest of his days. She wasn’t about to let him back out into the world that had hurt him and let him down so much.

A loving light appeared in her eyes as she heard the wheels of her husband’s wheelchair rolling into the room. Three years ago, a tweaker had stormed the hospital that her husband worked at when he wasn’t at his private practice. Thinking he could storm the room where they stored all the drugs. Being the man that he is, George tried to talk the man down, she was thankful that he was already in the hospital when the man shot him; however, her husband would never walk again. Which meant while he did take care of her needs as best as he could given their new situation. When the news about George’s loss of his legs reached the family, Denis worked twice as hard to make sure the den was setup as their new bedroom. Took another month to set up the downstairs bathroom to accommodate George so he wouldn’t have trouble getting in and out of the tub. During the construction Denis was there to make sure his father was cared for. Helen was so proud of her son, and he definitely was her son, no one could ever take that away from her; nor was she ever going to let them. During the first year, she had talked with George about finding his real mother in case she or Denis wanted to be with each other. When she finally brought it up to the now eleven-year-old Denis he said: ‘You’re my Mom, whoever she was to me died the moment she gave me up.’

Helen never brought it up or further looked for the woman that gave him up. She knew, number one: Denis wouldn’t like it; and two: to him she was his mother, and truly that’s all she really cared about.

“Helen?” She felt her heart race, something that always happened when he was around, yet this racing was for a different reason. It was what he had asked her last night. Before his shooting they had sex if not every day, at least four times a week given their busy schedules. Three years without being fucked by something that wasn’t rubber and/or metal was getting very old. She would never cheat on her husband. So when he asked her what she thought about finding someone for her to fill the need that he could no longer fill, she was in shock to say the least. However, George had one stipulation to it, it had to be someone he knew and someone he trusted with all his heart to treat his wife right. “Have you given any thought to what I asked you last night?”

“George… Are you sure this is what you want?” Helen asked, peering back at her husband as she held the celery in her hand waiting to be washed to be chopped into the chicken salad she was preparing.

“Honey,” rolling further into the kitchen, “I know you well enough to know how frustrated you are. I know, you say simple oral is enough for you and the dildos and whatnot,” George said, holding up his hand as his wife started to speak. “And I’d rather not find out that you’re cheating on me with some man that I may or may not know. I know you haven’t, but I can see the need in your eyes baby, and I want you to have that. It’s not like my junk works anymore anyway.”

“George! Don’t you dare degrade yourself, I’m very happy with your tongue,” Helen stated, although the thought of having a nice hard, hot, blood engorged cock deep within her cunt. Shooting load after load of that white hot spunk into her womb did make her mound quiver in anticipation. “Plus… I am not fucking Stan!” Smiling when her husband laughed.

“Didn’t know my brother was on the menu, glad to hear he’s not,” George said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“If not Stan then who?” Helen asked, placing her hand on her hip, shooting her husband a look.

“Who do you see out there?” George asked, nodding to the backyard.

“You can’t mean…” Her head snapped towards the window that overlooked the inground pool. Volbeat’s ‘Live to Die’ played as she watched Denis as he danced around the pool using the skimmer as a guitar. They had a salt filter system in their pool, so they never used chemicals. Watching how he ‘headbanged’, the sunlight glistening along his skin. Denis never went without a shirt on unless it was at home, and even that took a few years to do. Noting the muscles that sat beneath that marred skin of his. Something his father had helped him get out in their garage as he taught Denis to box to work out his anger issues. To her mind she had to agree, beating on a weight bag was better than Denis getting charged with battery. Her hand clenched in anger at those that caused her boy such pain. Crushing the celery as she did. “What about…?!” Helen clammed up as she heard footsteps on the stairs. She knew ever since Shawna was seventeen that she was in love with Denis. Shawna wouldn’t go into great detail, she learned that from the visit to the principal’s office of the high school they both attended. They had threatened to kick Denis out when it was he trying to defend his sister from being groped when Shawna had stated flatly that she didn’t want anything to do with the boy. Watching her daughter placing a kiss on her father’s cheek, waving to her as she had a towel resting on her shoulder before bounding joyfully out the door in a — in her mind — far too small red bikini.

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