John Sidle entered the cramped, two bedroom apartment on the seventh floor
of the California building. He found his wife, Grace, sitting at the
kitchen table with four- year- old Sara on her lap. Grace was trying to
get her daughter to take her cough medicine. Jack, who was high like he
always was, noticed that most of the syrup was spilt on Sara's shirt. He
became enraged, and sauntered up to his wife and slapped her across the
face, causing the little girl to fall off her mother's knee.
"You bitch!" He screamed, knocking over a kitchen chair "You think money grows on trees? Do you know how much that crap costs? And you're wasting it?"
" Jack, she's only four years old-"
"I don't care how old she is, she's wasting my money!" Jack countered.
"Your money? It's our money, and you spend it all on pot anyway! Do you know how long I had to save to buy our daughter one new pair of shoes? Six weeks, Jack-"
Grace was silenced by her husband's hand crashing across her face again. She stood stock still, like a deer caught in headlights, and she watched helplessly as her spouse repeatedly slapped her daughter. Grace broke out of her stare in time to grab Sara and scoop her up into her arms before she was hit with one more blow. The girl was suddenly filled with rage from watching her mom be beaten. She wriggled loose from her mother's arms, and ran to her father. She crept up behind him and gave a forceful kick in the knee.
"I hate you Daddy!" Sara shouted as she ran out the door and the steeps of the apartment.
Grace ran after her child, and found her sitting on the steps, her face in her hands.
"Honey, are you alright?" Grace asked, pulling her daughter in to her arms "do you need some ice for your face?"
"No mommy I'm okay" Sara answered, rubbing her cheek. "Mommy, how come you let daddy hit you like that?" Sara asked
"Well honey, daddy is sick. And he needs to get some help-"
" Does he need some medicine?" Sara questioned, not fully understanding what her mother was trying to say.
"Sort of. But until daddy gets the help that he needs, we're going to have to be very careful around him. So from now on, when daddy comes back from work, I want you to go straight to your room, and be very quiet. You'll come out when we eat dinner, but until then, I need you to stay very quiet."
"Am I in trouble, mommy?"
"No, no, of course not sweetheart. I'll tell you what- tomorrow I'll go out and buy you some new coloring books and crayons and stories to keep you entertained, okay?"
Sara heartily agreed, enticed by the offer of new things to play with.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Three years later.
Seven-year-old Sara sat across from her mother at their kitchen table. She was listening to her mother talk to her grandmother for about twenty minutes now. Unable tell what her grandma had been saying, she knew it wasn't what Grace wanted to hear. Grace had finally worked up the nerve to call her mother, and ask if Sara could come and live with them. Jack was rarely home, and when he was, he was stoned. Grace knew it wasn't safe to leave Sara with Jack, because he often became violent when he was high or drunk. Their lack of income forced Grace to go out and get a job-and that's why Grace called her mother. Sara, hearing the door opening, quickly gathered her homework and retreated to her room, still avoiding her father.
"No! You're telling me no! She's your only granddaughter! How can you do this to me?" Grace screamed into the phone before slamming the receiver down. She got up and walked silently down the hall to her daughter's room.
"Honey" She said, poking her head through the doorway. She found the girl with her face buried in her pillow, her tiny frame racked with sobs. "Oh baby, I'm sorry-"
"Why did she say no? Doesn't she love me?" Sara choked out the words. She was genuinely afraid of her father, and although she loved her mother, actually wanted to leave.
" No, honey, of course grandma loves you, and I love you to. It's just that Grandma is a little mad at Mommy right now."
"Why is she mad?" Sara asked, with naïveté.
"Grandma isn't happy with some of the decisions that Mommy's mad in her life, that's all" Grace replied, hoping to leave it at that.
"Like what?" the girl asked, sitting up on her bed.
"Well, for one thing, she doesn't like daddy, or the reason we got married. You see, I found out that I was going to have you before your daddy and I were married, -"
"I'm a love-child?" Sara demanded, "That's the only reason you got married?"
"No." She replied with firmness she had never used with Sara before. The last thing in the world she wanted her daughter to feel was that all of this was her fault, or that she was unloved. " We would have gotten married anyway; we just had to do it a little earlier because you decided to come along before we had planned. And where did you hear love-child?"
"TV". Grace chuckled at her daughter's sheepish answer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three years later.
Grace, with luck on her side, managed to find a woman to leave Sara with after school until dinner: Ellen Morelli, who lived one floor down in the apartment. She was young, about twenty-four, and unmarried. An elementary school teacher, she saw how Sara was suffering, and reached out to help her. She would become Sara's sister, friend, and confidante. And that was where Sara was the day she witnessed her mother's rape, at the tender age of ten.
"You bitch!" He screamed, knocking over a kitchen chair "You think money grows on trees? Do you know how much that crap costs? And you're wasting it?"
" Jack, she's only four years old-"
"I don't care how old she is, she's wasting my money!" Jack countered.
"Your money? It's our money, and you spend it all on pot anyway! Do you know how long I had to save to buy our daughter one new pair of shoes? Six weeks, Jack-"
Grace was silenced by her husband's hand crashing across her face again. She stood stock still, like a deer caught in headlights, and she watched helplessly as her spouse repeatedly slapped her daughter. Grace broke out of her stare in time to grab Sara and scoop her up into her arms before she was hit with one more blow. The girl was suddenly filled with rage from watching her mom be beaten. She wriggled loose from her mother's arms, and ran to her father. She crept up behind him and gave a forceful kick in the knee.
"I hate you Daddy!" Sara shouted as she ran out the door and the steeps of the apartment.
Grace ran after her child, and found her sitting on the steps, her face in her hands.
"Honey, are you alright?" Grace asked, pulling her daughter in to her arms "do you need some ice for your face?"
"No mommy I'm okay" Sara answered, rubbing her cheek. "Mommy, how come you let daddy hit you like that?" Sara asked
"Well honey, daddy is sick. And he needs to get some help-"
" Does he need some medicine?" Sara questioned, not fully understanding what her mother was trying to say.
"Sort of. But until daddy gets the help that he needs, we're going to have to be very careful around him. So from now on, when daddy comes back from work, I want you to go straight to your room, and be very quiet. You'll come out when we eat dinner, but until then, I need you to stay very quiet."
"Am I in trouble, mommy?"
"No, no, of course not sweetheart. I'll tell you what- tomorrow I'll go out and buy you some new coloring books and crayons and stories to keep you entertained, okay?"
Sara heartily agreed, enticed by the offer of new things to play with.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Three years later.
Seven-year-old Sara sat across from her mother at their kitchen table. She was listening to her mother talk to her grandmother for about twenty minutes now. Unable tell what her grandma had been saying, she knew it wasn't what Grace wanted to hear. Grace had finally worked up the nerve to call her mother, and ask if Sara could come and live with them. Jack was rarely home, and when he was, he was stoned. Grace knew it wasn't safe to leave Sara with Jack, because he often became violent when he was high or drunk. Their lack of income forced Grace to go out and get a job-and that's why Grace called her mother. Sara, hearing the door opening, quickly gathered her homework and retreated to her room, still avoiding her father.
"No! You're telling me no! She's your only granddaughter! How can you do this to me?" Grace screamed into the phone before slamming the receiver down. She got up and walked silently down the hall to her daughter's room.
"Honey" She said, poking her head through the doorway. She found the girl with her face buried in her pillow, her tiny frame racked with sobs. "Oh baby, I'm sorry-"
"Why did she say no? Doesn't she love me?" Sara choked out the words. She was genuinely afraid of her father, and although she loved her mother, actually wanted to leave.
" No, honey, of course grandma loves you, and I love you to. It's just that Grandma is a little mad at Mommy right now."
"Why is she mad?" Sara asked, with naïveté.
"Grandma isn't happy with some of the decisions that Mommy's mad in her life, that's all" Grace replied, hoping to leave it at that.
"Like what?" the girl asked, sitting up on her bed.
"Well, for one thing, she doesn't like daddy, or the reason we got married. You see, I found out that I was going to have you before your daddy and I were married, -"
"I'm a love-child?" Sara demanded, "That's the only reason you got married?"
"No." She replied with firmness she had never used with Sara before. The last thing in the world she wanted her daughter to feel was that all of this was her fault, or that she was unloved. " We would have gotten married anyway; we just had to do it a little earlier because you decided to come along before we had planned. And where did you hear love-child?"
"TV". Grace chuckled at her daughter's sheepish answer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three years later.
Grace, with luck on her side, managed to find a woman to leave Sara with after school until dinner: Ellen Morelli, who lived one floor down in the apartment. She was young, about twenty-four, and unmarried. An elementary school teacher, she saw how Sara was suffering, and reached out to help her. She would become Sara's sister, friend, and confidante. And that was where Sara was the day she witnessed her mother's rape, at the tender age of ten.