Mommy always picked me up from school. Ever day, no matter what. She always
had a smile on her face, a hug for me, and an ear to listen to me tell her
my adventures in kindergarten. We would always be alone until bedtime.
Then, we would both tense u as we heard the lock being turned, and heavy
footsteps in the hall. A sigh of relief would escape Mommy's lips if the
footsteps were even, but if they weren't she would straighten up and try to
get me to go to my room.
I never listened. No matter how scared I would get, how many tears would slide down my cheeks, or how loud my screams would get, I would always stay. Even back then, as little as I was, I had registered that what happened at my house five nights out of seven was wrong and should be stopped somehow.
But like her, I was too scared of him. Even when he was in a good mood, Daddy scared me. During the day he would walk around the house taking funny coloured pills and complaining about his head. Sometimes he would call me to him, but I always ran behind Mommy to hide. To me, he was like a stranger who just happened to have a room across the hall from me. He would always get angry when I ran to Mommy, and one time i remember him yelling, "I can't believe you, setting my own daughter against me!" Then he would storm out and not come back until late at night, waking me, Mommy, and everyone else in our apartment building.
I was always scared when he came home at night. I remember how he would scream, scuffle, and then break something, before yelling at Mommy and then coming into my room. By then, I was sitting up straight, my eyes the size of saucers, shivering with fright. I remember how he would come to my bed, sit on it, narrowly missing my legs, bring me close to him, and rub me gently.
I never liked it when he did that. He would always smell so awful, and it felt all funny when he touched me. It was wrong, and I was always squirming away from him.
When he came home in the evenings though, he was worse. He would smell worse than e did at night, his words would be slurred, and he always threw things or said nasty things to Mommy while I sat in her lap and watched in horror. If I wasn't near her, he would walk over and hit her, while she cried. I was always too frightened to do anything but watch in horror as he did this. I never thought of stopping him. I was afraid he would hit me too, and I didn't want him to do that.
That was why always dreaded being at home. The only peaceful times in y life where those walks with Mommy to and from school, it was when we could be ourselves. One day, I remember running out of school, holding a painting I made for Mommy but I couldn't find her anywhere. Instead, I found Daddy.
"Where's Mommy?" I remember blurting out as he came towards me with a grin on his face that vanished instantly when I asked him that.
"She's at home; I'm going to pick you up from school from now on." He replied and stood there looking at me to see if I would object.
I nodded numbly, and began walking with my head down so he would not see the tears pricking my eyes. After a bit, I did not hear him behind me, and saw I was alone. I didn't know what to do, I was six and had never been anywhere without Mommy or my teacher or my grandmother a day in my life, and here I was stranded
The tears that had been pricking my eyes spilled out now and I broke into a wild run, clutching my picture for Mommy. I knew the way home ff by heart, but I was still scared that something terrible would happen to me. I fell down on the sidewalk when I reached the top of the hill that overlooked my apartment building. I got covered in scratches, and I hurt my knee very badly. It was bleeding a lot and all I could do was limp on it. The worst was that when I fell I tore Mommy's picture which I worked so hard on.
I walked home as fast as my knee would let me. By the time I reached the front door, I was a sorry looking sight covered in dirt, scratches, blood, and tear streaks. I remember Mommy's face when she opened the front door going from amazement, to horror, to sorrow. She lifted me up and gave me a warm bubble bath, fed me something warm, and then listened to me sob out my story.
She was just what I needed at times like those, and most importantly to me that day was that she wasn't mad at me for wrecking her picture. She kept stroking my head, and kissing my forehead and telling me that she was just happy I was safe. It was then that for one of the first few times in my life that I felt safe, just sitting with her. I didn't mind her stroking my hair and kissing me like I minded when Daddy did it. Perhaps it was because I love Mommy and I don't love Daddy.
I was feeling so happy there in Mommy's arms I forgot all about Daddy, and started getting drowsy, and then there was a loud bang on the door. Mommy immediately stiffened up, and grabbed our sweaters, making me put mine on. I didn't understand what was going on, i was too tired and confused, but I remember a thought flash into my head, Mommy has a plan. I only wondered what the plan was.
Then, the door slammed open, and Daddy staggered in, his face all puffed up and all red, and he wasn't walking very well.
"Where the hell were you?" He bellowed out at me, "I was walking, and then I stopped to talk to visit Mark and the next thing I know, you disappeared on me you little wench!"
I ran behind Mommy, more scared than I was when I found out I was alone. I did not know what a wench was, but it did not sound nice to me at all. Then I remember him screaming at Mommy for turning me against him, but Mommy interrupted him, "We're not going to take this anymore, we're leaving."
I could hardly believe her. Leaving? Where would we go? What would we do? The thought scared me, but it also filled me with a strange feeling I later found out was hope. I was going to be starting a new life away from him, away from the fear that one day he would do something that would hurt Mommy badly.
I did not have long to dwell on this, as fast as he could, he and into the kitchen, and then out carrying something long and shiny. He grabbed Mommy and pinned her to the door, and lifted up the shiny object. I shrieked and Mommy's eyes widened when I saw it was a knife that he held just about a foot from her throat.
Something happened to me then. I don't know what it was, but I just knew that if I didn't stop him, Mommy would get hurt. I didn't care if I was going to be, but I didn't want Mommy to be. I ran up and stepped in front of her, pushing him away as hard as I could. The knife slipped out of his hands, and he fell on the floor and passed out.
Afterwards, mommy called the police and they came to take Daddy away. Mommy and I then packed up all our things and we moved to grandma's house where Mommy promised that Daddy would never hurt me again. She was right. Daddy was not allowed to see me or Mommy anymore and I was able to live like all my other friends now. Except for one difference, I had a scarred past.
I never listened. No matter how scared I would get, how many tears would slide down my cheeks, or how loud my screams would get, I would always stay. Even back then, as little as I was, I had registered that what happened at my house five nights out of seven was wrong and should be stopped somehow.
But like her, I was too scared of him. Even when he was in a good mood, Daddy scared me. During the day he would walk around the house taking funny coloured pills and complaining about his head. Sometimes he would call me to him, but I always ran behind Mommy to hide. To me, he was like a stranger who just happened to have a room across the hall from me. He would always get angry when I ran to Mommy, and one time i remember him yelling, "I can't believe you, setting my own daughter against me!" Then he would storm out and not come back until late at night, waking me, Mommy, and everyone else in our apartment building.
I was always scared when he came home at night. I remember how he would scream, scuffle, and then break something, before yelling at Mommy and then coming into my room. By then, I was sitting up straight, my eyes the size of saucers, shivering with fright. I remember how he would come to my bed, sit on it, narrowly missing my legs, bring me close to him, and rub me gently.
I never liked it when he did that. He would always smell so awful, and it felt all funny when he touched me. It was wrong, and I was always squirming away from him.
When he came home in the evenings though, he was worse. He would smell worse than e did at night, his words would be slurred, and he always threw things or said nasty things to Mommy while I sat in her lap and watched in horror. If I wasn't near her, he would walk over and hit her, while she cried. I was always too frightened to do anything but watch in horror as he did this. I never thought of stopping him. I was afraid he would hit me too, and I didn't want him to do that.
That was why always dreaded being at home. The only peaceful times in y life where those walks with Mommy to and from school, it was when we could be ourselves. One day, I remember running out of school, holding a painting I made for Mommy but I couldn't find her anywhere. Instead, I found Daddy.
"Where's Mommy?" I remember blurting out as he came towards me with a grin on his face that vanished instantly when I asked him that.
"She's at home; I'm going to pick you up from school from now on." He replied and stood there looking at me to see if I would object.
I nodded numbly, and began walking with my head down so he would not see the tears pricking my eyes. After a bit, I did not hear him behind me, and saw I was alone. I didn't know what to do, I was six and had never been anywhere without Mommy or my teacher or my grandmother a day in my life, and here I was stranded
The tears that had been pricking my eyes spilled out now and I broke into a wild run, clutching my picture for Mommy. I knew the way home ff by heart, but I was still scared that something terrible would happen to me. I fell down on the sidewalk when I reached the top of the hill that overlooked my apartment building. I got covered in scratches, and I hurt my knee very badly. It was bleeding a lot and all I could do was limp on it. The worst was that when I fell I tore Mommy's picture which I worked so hard on.
I walked home as fast as my knee would let me. By the time I reached the front door, I was a sorry looking sight covered in dirt, scratches, blood, and tear streaks. I remember Mommy's face when she opened the front door going from amazement, to horror, to sorrow. She lifted me up and gave me a warm bubble bath, fed me something warm, and then listened to me sob out my story.
She was just what I needed at times like those, and most importantly to me that day was that she wasn't mad at me for wrecking her picture. She kept stroking my head, and kissing my forehead and telling me that she was just happy I was safe. It was then that for one of the first few times in my life that I felt safe, just sitting with her. I didn't mind her stroking my hair and kissing me like I minded when Daddy did it. Perhaps it was because I love Mommy and I don't love Daddy.
I was feeling so happy there in Mommy's arms I forgot all about Daddy, and started getting drowsy, and then there was a loud bang on the door. Mommy immediately stiffened up, and grabbed our sweaters, making me put mine on. I didn't understand what was going on, i was too tired and confused, but I remember a thought flash into my head, Mommy has a plan. I only wondered what the plan was.
Then, the door slammed open, and Daddy staggered in, his face all puffed up and all red, and he wasn't walking very well.
"Where the hell were you?" He bellowed out at me, "I was walking, and then I stopped to talk to visit Mark and the next thing I know, you disappeared on me you little wench!"
I ran behind Mommy, more scared than I was when I found out I was alone. I did not know what a wench was, but it did not sound nice to me at all. Then I remember him screaming at Mommy for turning me against him, but Mommy interrupted him, "We're not going to take this anymore, we're leaving."
I could hardly believe her. Leaving? Where would we go? What would we do? The thought scared me, but it also filled me with a strange feeling I later found out was hope. I was going to be starting a new life away from him, away from the fear that one day he would do something that would hurt Mommy badly.
I did not have long to dwell on this, as fast as he could, he and into the kitchen, and then out carrying something long and shiny. He grabbed Mommy and pinned her to the door, and lifted up the shiny object. I shrieked and Mommy's eyes widened when I saw it was a knife that he held just about a foot from her throat.
Something happened to me then. I don't know what it was, but I just knew that if I didn't stop him, Mommy would get hurt. I didn't care if I was going to be, but I didn't want Mommy to be. I ran up and stepped in front of her, pushing him away as hard as I could. The knife slipped out of his hands, and he fell on the floor and passed out.
Afterwards, mommy called the police and they came to take Daddy away. Mommy and I then packed up all our things and we moved to grandma's house where Mommy promised that Daddy would never hurt me again. She was right. Daddy was not allowed to see me or Mommy anymore and I was able to live like all my other friends now. Except for one difference, I had a scarred past.