The Lion's Den: Chapter One: The Almost Girl.
Because even at nine years old, Renata knew that almost doesn't count.
The Spark of Realization
They say every fire starts with a single spark. For Renata, it wasn’t a spark, it was a realization. The walls of her perfectly constructed childhood weren’t protecting her; they were closing in.
“Caribbean Queen” vibrated throughout the auditorium. “...now we’re shaaaring the same dream…” Renata moved across the stage, oblivious to anything but the sound of Billy Ocean’s voice singing the praises of his Caribbean love. “…and our hearts they beat as one.” In her mind, the audience was a crowd of screaming fans, going wild. She moved her young hips to the rhythm, not missing a beat as she turned to execute a classic leap learned in tap and ballet class. Toes pointed, that’s it, she thought. Confidence surged as she kicked a leg into the air and performed a Michael Jackson spin. Take that! With one hand raised and the other on her hip, she held her pose as the song faded. She waited, eyes closed, for the rush of fans to bombard the stage. When she finally opened them, there were no screaming fans—only the blank stares of elementary schoolers and tired teachers. There was only mild applause as she took a bow and walked off.
She watched the last act: Katie, a popular blonde girl known as the school sweetheart. Katie’s routine was simple tap dancing, but her wild hair-flinging stole the show. When it ended, children stood up, clapping as fast as their hands would go. Renata clapped too. Katie was boring, but she was pretty. And pretty was all that mattered.
Katie won first place; Renata won second. She had almost won. Even at nine, Renata realized that “almost” wasn’t good enough. It was a lesson that would follow her, surfacing again and again.
The Silent House
Renata grew up in a “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” environment. Denial was the family’s religion. Her father was military, making them a transient tribe, always starting over. Her sister, one year older, was her only playmate and her guide to life on the block as a military brat.
As they traveled the East Coast and abroad, Renata remembered looking out the window of their car, watching her imaginary friend -a tall, scrawny man -running alongside them. Whether they were flying or driving, he never grew tired. It never occurred to her that he could have just ridden inside. He just kept running.
Texas was their last stop. Her father dropped them off for the next decade while he continued to tour the world. He left his wife and two daughters with military IDs, a bank account, and instructions for her mother to find a house, a job, and a life.
His presence had never amounted to much more than criticism "Sit up straight!” or “Elbows off the table!”; but his departure changed everything. Her mother spent the next seven years locked in a bedroom, depressed and in denial that her marriage was over. She perked up only during his rare visits; otherwise, she was a ghost. Renata’s sister buried her disappointment in school activities and friends.
This left Renata, the youngest, vulnerable to whatever the neighborhood had to offer. While other kids experienced the hard knocks of urban life, Renata’s battlefield was the black hole growing within her. She was raising herself from a child into a woman, convinced that because she didn’t fit in, she would never be good enough.
When she was fourteen, a group of girls came over to beat her up. Looking back, Renata realized her only concern wasn’t the pain, but the loss of friendship. She had dropped to the ground, grabbed one girl’s leg, and begged them, sobbing, to stay her friends. They simply shook their heads at the drama and walked out of her yard and her life.
The Deserted Park
Then came the boy from school. He was interested in her, and Renata, desperate to feel wanted, agreed to sneak out one night. He arrived in a small SUV with four friends.
The night air blew through the window as they drove. Renata felt loved. She felt chosen. In her innocence, she didn’t wonder why she was the only girl or why they were pulling into a deserted park.
When the driver killed the lights, the boy she liked pushed her onto her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked timidly.
“Don’t worry, we’re just having a little fun.”
“I want to go home.” Tears began to run down her cheeks as she tried to climb out from under him.
“We’re going to drop you off in the middle of these woods if you don’t act right,” the driver chimed in. the others laughed. “Do you want to walk home in the dark?”
Renata was smart. She knew she wouldn’t make it home on foot, and even if she did, the shame of sneaking out would be unbearable. Her hands dropped to her sides. She lay frozen as each boy took his turn. The smell of sweat filled the air. Nauseated, Renata forced her mind to drift, desperately grasping for anything to take her away from her own body.
The Reputation
They took her home, just as they promised. There were no bruises, no visible signs of a fight. But she was sore and humiliated. At fourteen, she felt used. Unwanted.
The next day, she told a girl at school what had happened.
“You weren’t raped,” the girl snapped. “You shouldn’t have got in the car. What did you think was going to happen?”
Within a week, the rumor spread that Renata had let the boys “run a train” on her. She became the school “Ho.”
So, she began to live up to the name. She befriended Jaylene, a “fast” city girl from New York who understood Renata’s insatiable need to belong. Jaylene nurtured that need. She was the one who taught Renata how to trick.
Their customer was an old man, at least seventy. Jaylene introduced him, and they began alternating days, skipping school to let the old man have his way for twenty dollars. It was a five-minute process of wheezing and disgust.
To a child, it was bewildering. But for Renata, having her own money in her pocket felt like the only power she had left.
Author’s Note: Welcome to the first installment of The Lion’s Den. This is a work of fiction, a serialized experience that I’ll be sharing with you every Tuesday.
If Renata’s journey resonates with you, let’s talk in the comments. Who is she running from? And where is she really going?