WARNING: The chapter you are about to read contains violence against a child. PLEASE BE ADVISED. In no way do I promote such acts against a child or any living human being.

I was inspired to write this chapter after reading the book called "A Child Called It" by Dave Pelzer. It is a true story of the authors childhood and the abuse he suffered at the hands of his mother and how he was able to heal himself to become a good human being. I highly recommend it. Dave has a few other books out but you're gonna have to check out his website.

This was the most difficult things I have had to write. And I dedicate this entire story to those who have lived through it or are going through it. Or if you know someone that is going through it. I hope you can find your angel...

This story is a...blast from the past, if you will. This is sort of a background for a character that will, hopefully, be making an apperance real soon.

Chapter4

1983

"GET OVER HERE NOW!" screamed the woman.

Walking as fast as she could the 4 year old did as she was told. Wondering what she had done wrong this time, she began to mentally check of the things she had done that day.

"Sara, go easy on her. It was just a mistake. No harm, no foul," said the woman's husband. He was the opposite of his wife. While she was volatile and had a temper, he was calm and patient. Never raised his voice or lost his temper, although he was close to losing it right now. He never really understood why his wife's attitude towards their daughter was the way it was. Granted, the incident 5 years ago was nothing to forget about but it had been 5 years since that terrible night. But that didn't mean his wife had to take it out on their daughter.

"GO EASY? HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAISE IT!" she screamed. Yanking the child's arm, she dragged her to the kitchen,

"WHAT DO YOU SEE? LOOK AT IT I SAID!" Yanking hard on the girl's arm, Sara threw her onto the ground.

"SARA! THAT'S ENOUGH!" roared Frank. Storming over to where Sara stood over the girl, he grabbed his wife's arm and turned her to face him, "SARA. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW! IF YOU DON'T I'LL LEAVE YOU!" Frank screamed. Both adults stood face-to-face breathing hard, neither of them giving in. After what seemed like an eternity, Frank turned to his daughter who was still was on the ground.

"Sweetie," he said quietly, "daddy needs to get to work now. Please," he begged his little girl, "please be on your best behaviour. Just listen to you mother." Frank pleaded with his daughter. Giving her a small smile he turned to get up. Reaching out slightly, the young girl put a trembling hand on her father's arm.

'Please daddy. Please don't go. Help me,' the young girl pleaded with her eyes. She didn't dare say a word in front of her mother. She was never allowed to speak with her mother around, unless she was told to do so her. The child had learned the hard way that her mother's violent temper was not to be taken lightly.

"Yes, sweetie? What is it?" her father asked. After a moment of silence the girl dropped her hand. Frank looked a little disappointed that his little girl hadn't said anything. He knew by looking in her eyes that she wanted to say something but couldn't because of his wife's presence. Sighing to himself he muttered, "ok. Daddy's off to work now. See you soon." And with that he turned to leave.

As the young girl watched her father disappear, she imagined that he would turn right around and come get her and take her away from this nightmare that she was in. She would have held on tight to him as he carried her out of the house and away from her mother. She would have told her father everything…

SMACK!!

Stumbling to the ground, the little girl felt the sting of her mother's backhand. Realizing that she had been daydreaming for to long, got up quickly before her mother had the chance to strike her again.

"Listen to me you retched piece of nothing! Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. Understand?" Yanking the girl's arm, she dragged her towards the stove, "now look at this. I told you to clean this up! What the hell does that look like to you? I said look at it!" Grabbing the girl's head, Sara forced her daughter's face towards the stove, "is that clean to you?" Pushing her daughter's face closer she said, "Clean this up now! Or dearest daddy will be coming home to your funeral. UNDERSTAND?" And with that Sara slammed her daughter's face into the stove and walked away.

'Please God…help me,' thought the young girl. Gingerly she lifted her face off of the stove and brought her hand up to rub the side of her face. Sneaking a glance to where her mother stalked off to, she noticed that her mother was now on the couch with a bottle of vodka in her hand watching the television. Slowly exhaling, the girl began to clean the area on the stove her mother had indicated. She scrubbed and scrubbed praying that whatever her mother saw was now gone.

"WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING SO DAMN LONG?"

Jumping at the unexpected voice, the girl lost her balance on the step ladder and fell to the ground with a sickening thud. With the cleaning contents spilled all over the floor, her mother's temper began to revel it's self. The child knew what was to come. She had been through this a dozen times and some how it only managed to get worst each time.

"YOU WRECHED LITTLE…," Sara began advancing towards the child. Fearing her mother's wrath, the child quickly began to crawl away from her. This only infuriated Sara,

"COME HERE!" Reaching out to grab one of her daughter's legs, she dragged her to the door that leads to the basement. 'Oh God NO!' thought the little girl. 'Please God! No! Help me…PLEASE!' thought the child. And again, her prayers were left unheard. Reaching the bottom of the short steps, Sara grabbed her daughter's arm and yanked her up.

Breathing heavily as if she had run a mile, the girl began to mentally brace herself for what was to come. Her mother reached for the belt that hung on the wall behind the little girl. Now shaking visibly, the child turned around and waited for her mother to yank her shirt up. Shutting her eyes tight, the little girl began to dream of her special place where she would be safe…

WHACK!

A place where her mother could never reach her...

WHACK!

A place where her mother could never find her…

WHACK!

A place where her mother can never harm her again…

WHACK!

The little girl bit the inside of her lip to keep from making a sound. All the while dreaming of her special place. In her dreams she was being held by an angle with a beautiful smile.

"Hold on little one. Hold on," said the angle in her dreams. 'I'll try,' thought the little girl.

Her mother finally stopped. Seeming disappointed that the girl hadn't made a sound, Sara stepped back and said,

"Sit your filthy ass down there and don't you dare make a move. Don't even sneeze. Understand?"

Nodding quickly, the girl sat down where her mother had indicated. Tucking her hands and knees under her chin, the little girl sat motionless.

"Stupid girl. Why I kept you is beyond me." And with that, Sara stormed up the steps and slammed the door shut leaving the girl in complete darkness. And for the first time that morning, the girl spoke quietly,

"God, my name is Mackenzie. I am 4 years old. Please help me…please," the little girl began to cry quietly. Her wounds began to sting and the slow throbbing of pain started to ease its way into the little girl's body. Wrapping her small arms around her legs she began to rock herself slowly.

The young girl knew that sleep was fast approaching. And for that split second before sleep engulfed her, she saw her angel smiling at her. Warmth wrapped itself around Mackenzie like a warm blanket. 'I'm right here little one,' said the angel. And with that, the little girl smiled slightly and finally let sleep over power her.

Little did she know that her angel resembled a certain detective…