Chapter One: Life
The strong stench of beer and vodka woke me up in the middle of the night on a Saturday in mid July. The trailer was stiflingly hot. My back was dripping with sweat and my black hair was matted to my face. I rubbed my eyes and sat up only to bump my head on the top bunk. I grunted. Would I never learn? I heard Pop's voice outside the trailer, his words were slurred together and he was muttering something, intelligible. He had just come back from Ronny's Bar I knew. I looked across the narrow walkway to the other bunk bed where my two brothers slept. They hadn't woken up. My sister slept soundly above me. They were all sound sleepers, unlike me, I had learned over the years that is better to wake up before the beatings started then be woken up by the beatings. Now even a strong smell could jerk me awake, just like it had tonight. The door to the old trailer squeaked loudly as Pop opened it and stumbled inside, he flicked the light on before tripping over one of my brother, Tyler's old trucks and crashing to the floor. I flinched, everyone would be awake now, and my father would not be happy. "Skye?" Erin squeaked from the top bunk. "I'm here," I said quietly, hoping Pop wouldn't hear that we were awake. "What the HELL is this damn truck doing here?" Pop yelled, quickly sobered up from his fall. He picked himself up and stomped over to our beds. My brothers were pretending to be asleep but I knew they were very much awake, how could they not be after all the noise Pop had made coming in? "Tyler!" Pop yelled, "Your truck tripped me up," I saw Tyler trembling under his blanket that he had pulled over his head despite the heat. He was only six years old. Pop was always screaming at him for leaving his toys lying around. I tried to clean up after him but I wasn't perfect, I sometimes missed things. Pop smacked Tyler in the head to wake him up, "Get up!" he bellowed. Tyler sat up and jumped down from the bed, his little hands were shaking as he moved into the kitchen. Pop pushed him to the floor, "Keep your damn toys outta my way!" he yelled. Tyler burst into tears. I saw my fifteen- year-old brother Anthony peek out form under the covers. I looked at him and then decided I wouldn't watch Pop beat a defenseless six-year-old. Anthony and I both got out of bed quietly. The only way to even put a dent in Pop was to catch him by surprise. We catapulted ourselves at him together and he fell face first into the table. Quickly I got up and stood in front of Tyler, not wanting to be too near Pop when he regained his composure and realized what had happened. But Anthony wasn't so fast. Pop grabbed his ankle and he fell to the floor. The trailer was much too small for this and we were knocking things off shelves every time we moved. "You little brats," Pop growled. He punched Anthony is the cheek and I screamed. "Don't either of you ever do anything like that again" he yelled, "Or you will get the beating of a lifetime," I snorted and regretted it immediately after. "What's with the attitude, Princess?" Pop asked. "Sorry" I muttered. I knelt down and hugged Tyler tightly in my arms. I wouldn't let him get hurt. Anthony was in the space between our bunk beds holding his cheek that I was sure would have a bruise tomorrow. I could hear Erin crying softly. Pop got up, his large frame filled up the small space of the trailer. His blond hair was wild and unruly and badly in need of a cut. His broad shoulders blocked the light from the lone bulb as he towered over Tyler and I. Tyler was trembling in my arms. Just when I thought Pop was going to smack me across the room he stormed out of the trailer, leaving us to clean up his mess, yet again. Anthony and I tucked Tyler and Erin into bed and gave them a drink of water. They looked so sweet lying together in my bed, no one could ever believe that their life was as difficult as it was. Erin's curly light brown hair spilled over the pillow and her innocent brown eyes gazed up at my as she asked, "Is Daddy ok?" "Yes," I told her, "Now go to sleep," Anthony and I cleaned up the trailer as best we could. Some of our mother's knick-knacks had been knocked to the floor and were beyond repair. I tried to pick up the pieces of a blue dolphin that I remembered was her favourite. "Don't bother, Skye, she doesn't want it, she's not coming back for that stupid dolphin or for us," Anthony said bitterly. "I wanted to keep it forever, in case she ever came back," I told him sadly. Our mother had left a couple weeks after Tyler had been born. She couldn't deal with what life had given her. I had been ten years old when she left in the night without saying good-bye. It had been six years but I still held onto the hope that she might walk through that old squeaky door and take us away from Monkton Ontario. I slept in Erin's bed that night since her and Tyler were in mine. I cried myself to sleep, but not until the sun started to peek over the horizon. I cried for me and my brothers and sister. I cried for the little blue dolphin that had been my only hope that Mama might come home. It had been the symbol of hope in my life, the only thing that made me feel like I could survive. If it could survive the long and unhappy life in the old trailer, then so could I. Now all hope was gone.
Before Mama left, my life had been as normal as ones life could be. Pop was happy with his job in the car factory. I had my brother Anthony for all but one year of my life to play with. We were very close, inseparable even. Mama's friends said we looked like twins even though we didn't really look alike. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. I also had blue eyes but mine were more the colour of the sky then the greenish blue that Anthony had. My hair was jet black and wavy. Mama told me she named me Skye because of the colour of my eyes. I had always loved that story. "Your father and I had been slaving over baby name books for weeks and we had even decided on a beautiful name for you," she told me before bed one night. "What was it?" I asked, even though I already knew. "Tamara," she said. I always wrinkled my nose at the sound of that name; I thought Skye was so much prettier. "I had my first contraction at six o'clock in the morning on a beautiful January day. The sky was still dark, but I knew it would be a wonderful day, for my daughter was coming out to see me, You were born as you know on January 23rd, the sun was high in the blue sky. When the nurse put you on my stomach and I saw your blue eyes, I knew I couldn't name you Tamara, it had to be Skye," I smiled, happy that I hadn't been called Tamara. "Thank you Mama," I would say before falling asleep. "Your welcome, my love," she would whisper. Erin was born when I was seven years old. Oh, how happy I was to have a little sister! Anthony sulked for the next three days because he had hoped beyond hope that it would be a boy. But soon he couldn't stay away from her; she was too cute. She had curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, she looked a little like Mama. She was always happy and smiling. We lived in the trailer then too, and by the time Erin turned two, it had become much too small for us. But Pop lost his job for coming to work drunk and we were stuck with it. Mama and Pop had many fights about his drinking. But that always ended in them sneaking quietly into the tiny room that contained a double bed where they slept, I heard what they did in there, I knew Anthony did too, but we didn't talk about it. That was how Tyler was conceived. While Mama was pregnant she became more and more depressed. She stopped telling me stories before bed and she stayed in the trailer all day sleeping. Finally Tyler was born. She was alone at the hospital through the delivery because Pop couldn't be reached at wherever he was, which turned out to be some bar in the next town. When she brought her new son home, she didn't seem happy like she had when she brought Erin home. She looked more depressed than ever. I didn't understand how she could be sad with a son as sweet as Tyler. He had wavy hair the colour of straw. His eyes were gray like Pop's. Sometimes I would watch him play and he would suddenly stare off at nothing in particular, he reminded me of Mama in that way. I woke up the morning that Tyler turned one month old, as I stood up a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and read it.
Dear Skye: I am sorry I had to leave you like this; you know that life has not been treating me well lately. Don't leave your father, he will need you now that I am gone. Just know that I am OK and please don't look for me, you won't find me. Be a good girl and take care of Tyler, Erin, Anthony and most of all, your father. Love always, Mama
I read that note over and over until it finally sunk in; Mama had run away, she had run away leaving me with the burden of the family she had created. The note sounded so heartless, like she had been waiting for the time that I would be old enough to take care of her responsibilities. I hated her at that moment. I hated my beloved, selfish mother. I had believed she loved us more than anything. But apparently I had been wrong; she loved her freedom most. I ripped up that note and flushed it down the toilet. Now I wish I had kept it. It was the only link I had to her now. Over the years, Pop's drinking got worse. Erin cried for Mama and he would lash out at her out of frustration. He took out his own failures on his children. I became the mother to Erin and Tyler, who never really got to know their real mother. Anthony and I cooked meals and kept the trailer as neat as possible. Pop did as little as possible to help us out. He expected us to do everything for him. We took care of the kids, cleaned, cooked and went to school. I knew it was hard for Anthony to clean when he would much rather be out playing football or baseball with his friends. I told him to go, I could handle the kids, but he refused. I had to quit my violin lessons; we didn't have the money or the time for them. Violin was my one passion, the only way for me to escape from the daily grind. By the time I was sixteen, I had become used to the abuse and the lack of money and food. Pop was rarely ever home. He was always drinking when he wasn't at work earning money to spend on alcohol. As far as he was concerned he had no family, we were just four children who lived with him, four people who did everything they could for him when he did nothing for us. The only thing that kept me alive after awhile was the fear of what would happen to Tyler and Erin if they were left to fend for themselves. Anthony felt the same way. Nothing could make us ask for help, we would not be separated, all we had were eachother and we were not going to give that up.
The strong stench of beer and vodka woke me up in the middle of the night on a Saturday in mid July. The trailer was stiflingly hot. My back was dripping with sweat and my black hair was matted to my face. I rubbed my eyes and sat up only to bump my head on the top bunk. I grunted. Would I never learn? I heard Pop's voice outside the trailer, his words were slurred together and he was muttering something, intelligible. He had just come back from Ronny's Bar I knew. I looked across the narrow walkway to the other bunk bed where my two brothers slept. They hadn't woken up. My sister slept soundly above me. They were all sound sleepers, unlike me, I had learned over the years that is better to wake up before the beatings started then be woken up by the beatings. Now even a strong smell could jerk me awake, just like it had tonight. The door to the old trailer squeaked loudly as Pop opened it and stumbled inside, he flicked the light on before tripping over one of my brother, Tyler's old trucks and crashing to the floor. I flinched, everyone would be awake now, and my father would not be happy. "Skye?" Erin squeaked from the top bunk. "I'm here," I said quietly, hoping Pop wouldn't hear that we were awake. "What the HELL is this damn truck doing here?" Pop yelled, quickly sobered up from his fall. He picked himself up and stomped over to our beds. My brothers were pretending to be asleep but I knew they were very much awake, how could they not be after all the noise Pop had made coming in? "Tyler!" Pop yelled, "Your truck tripped me up," I saw Tyler trembling under his blanket that he had pulled over his head despite the heat. He was only six years old. Pop was always screaming at him for leaving his toys lying around. I tried to clean up after him but I wasn't perfect, I sometimes missed things. Pop smacked Tyler in the head to wake him up, "Get up!" he bellowed. Tyler sat up and jumped down from the bed, his little hands were shaking as he moved into the kitchen. Pop pushed him to the floor, "Keep your damn toys outta my way!" he yelled. Tyler burst into tears. I saw my fifteen- year-old brother Anthony peek out form under the covers. I looked at him and then decided I wouldn't watch Pop beat a defenseless six-year-old. Anthony and I both got out of bed quietly. The only way to even put a dent in Pop was to catch him by surprise. We catapulted ourselves at him together and he fell face first into the table. Quickly I got up and stood in front of Tyler, not wanting to be too near Pop when he regained his composure and realized what had happened. But Anthony wasn't so fast. Pop grabbed his ankle and he fell to the floor. The trailer was much too small for this and we were knocking things off shelves every time we moved. "You little brats," Pop growled. He punched Anthony is the cheek and I screamed. "Don't either of you ever do anything like that again" he yelled, "Or you will get the beating of a lifetime," I snorted and regretted it immediately after. "What's with the attitude, Princess?" Pop asked. "Sorry" I muttered. I knelt down and hugged Tyler tightly in my arms. I wouldn't let him get hurt. Anthony was in the space between our bunk beds holding his cheek that I was sure would have a bruise tomorrow. I could hear Erin crying softly. Pop got up, his large frame filled up the small space of the trailer. His blond hair was wild and unruly and badly in need of a cut. His broad shoulders blocked the light from the lone bulb as he towered over Tyler and I. Tyler was trembling in my arms. Just when I thought Pop was going to smack me across the room he stormed out of the trailer, leaving us to clean up his mess, yet again. Anthony and I tucked Tyler and Erin into bed and gave them a drink of water. They looked so sweet lying together in my bed, no one could ever believe that their life was as difficult as it was. Erin's curly light brown hair spilled over the pillow and her innocent brown eyes gazed up at my as she asked, "Is Daddy ok?" "Yes," I told her, "Now go to sleep," Anthony and I cleaned up the trailer as best we could. Some of our mother's knick-knacks had been knocked to the floor and were beyond repair. I tried to pick up the pieces of a blue dolphin that I remembered was her favourite. "Don't bother, Skye, she doesn't want it, she's not coming back for that stupid dolphin or for us," Anthony said bitterly. "I wanted to keep it forever, in case she ever came back," I told him sadly. Our mother had left a couple weeks after Tyler had been born. She couldn't deal with what life had given her. I had been ten years old when she left in the night without saying good-bye. It had been six years but I still held onto the hope that she might walk through that old squeaky door and take us away from Monkton Ontario. I slept in Erin's bed that night since her and Tyler were in mine. I cried myself to sleep, but not until the sun started to peek over the horizon. I cried for me and my brothers and sister. I cried for the little blue dolphin that had been my only hope that Mama might come home. It had been the symbol of hope in my life, the only thing that made me feel like I could survive. If it could survive the long and unhappy life in the old trailer, then so could I. Now all hope was gone.
Before Mama left, my life had been as normal as ones life could be. Pop was happy with his job in the car factory. I had my brother Anthony for all but one year of my life to play with. We were very close, inseparable even. Mama's friends said we looked like twins even though we didn't really look alike. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. I also had blue eyes but mine were more the colour of the sky then the greenish blue that Anthony had. My hair was jet black and wavy. Mama told me she named me Skye because of the colour of my eyes. I had always loved that story. "Your father and I had been slaving over baby name books for weeks and we had even decided on a beautiful name for you," she told me before bed one night. "What was it?" I asked, even though I already knew. "Tamara," she said. I always wrinkled my nose at the sound of that name; I thought Skye was so much prettier. "I had my first contraction at six o'clock in the morning on a beautiful January day. The sky was still dark, but I knew it would be a wonderful day, for my daughter was coming out to see me, You were born as you know on January 23rd, the sun was high in the blue sky. When the nurse put you on my stomach and I saw your blue eyes, I knew I couldn't name you Tamara, it had to be Skye," I smiled, happy that I hadn't been called Tamara. "Thank you Mama," I would say before falling asleep. "Your welcome, my love," she would whisper. Erin was born when I was seven years old. Oh, how happy I was to have a little sister! Anthony sulked for the next three days because he had hoped beyond hope that it would be a boy. But soon he couldn't stay away from her; she was too cute. She had curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, she looked a little like Mama. She was always happy and smiling. We lived in the trailer then too, and by the time Erin turned two, it had become much too small for us. But Pop lost his job for coming to work drunk and we were stuck with it. Mama and Pop had many fights about his drinking. But that always ended in them sneaking quietly into the tiny room that contained a double bed where they slept, I heard what they did in there, I knew Anthony did too, but we didn't talk about it. That was how Tyler was conceived. While Mama was pregnant she became more and more depressed. She stopped telling me stories before bed and she stayed in the trailer all day sleeping. Finally Tyler was born. She was alone at the hospital through the delivery because Pop couldn't be reached at wherever he was, which turned out to be some bar in the next town. When she brought her new son home, she didn't seem happy like she had when she brought Erin home. She looked more depressed than ever. I didn't understand how she could be sad with a son as sweet as Tyler. He had wavy hair the colour of straw. His eyes were gray like Pop's. Sometimes I would watch him play and he would suddenly stare off at nothing in particular, he reminded me of Mama in that way. I woke up the morning that Tyler turned one month old, as I stood up a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and read it.
Dear Skye: I am sorry I had to leave you like this; you know that life has not been treating me well lately. Don't leave your father, he will need you now that I am gone. Just know that I am OK and please don't look for me, you won't find me. Be a good girl and take care of Tyler, Erin, Anthony and most of all, your father. Love always, Mama
I read that note over and over until it finally sunk in; Mama had run away, she had run away leaving me with the burden of the family she had created. The note sounded so heartless, like she had been waiting for the time that I would be old enough to take care of her responsibilities. I hated her at that moment. I hated my beloved, selfish mother. I had believed she loved us more than anything. But apparently I had been wrong; she loved her freedom most. I ripped up that note and flushed it down the toilet. Now I wish I had kept it. It was the only link I had to her now. Over the years, Pop's drinking got worse. Erin cried for Mama and he would lash out at her out of frustration. He took out his own failures on his children. I became the mother to Erin and Tyler, who never really got to know their real mother. Anthony and I cooked meals and kept the trailer as neat as possible. Pop did as little as possible to help us out. He expected us to do everything for him. We took care of the kids, cleaned, cooked and went to school. I knew it was hard for Anthony to clean when he would much rather be out playing football or baseball with his friends. I told him to go, I could handle the kids, but he refused. I had to quit my violin lessons; we didn't have the money or the time for them. Violin was my one passion, the only way for me to escape from the daily grind. By the time I was sixteen, I had become used to the abuse and the lack of money and food. Pop was rarely ever home. He was always drinking when he wasn't at work earning money to spend on alcohol. As far as he was concerned he had no family, we were just four children who lived with him, four people who did everything they could for him when he did nothing for us. The only thing that kept me alive after awhile was the fear of what would happen to Tyler and Erin if they were left to fend for themselves. Anthony felt the same way. Nothing could make us ask for help, we would not be separated, all we had were eachother and we were not going to give that up.