"Let's see how good a ten year old can write, shall we?" Rowenna asked herself, wiping away the last tear she had shed and taking a deep breath.
Black and Blue Scars
Daddy, are you mad at me?
Because I know you're wrong?
Daddy, are you mad at me?
Because I've know all along?
Daddy, are you angry?
Because I choose to fight?
Daddy, are you angry?
Because you know I'm right?
I have scars
And they're all black and blue
I have scars
And Daddy, they're from you
Daddy, are you mad at me?
Because I protect him?
Daddy, are you mad at me?
Because I don't let you hurt him?
Daddy, are you angry?
Because I'm not decieving?
Daddy, are you angry?
Because I'm really leaving?
He has scars
And they're all black and blue
He has scars
And Daddy, I'm protecting him from you
I'm leaving, Daddy
I'm leaving here tonight
I'm taking him with me, Daddy
Because I know it's right.
"You're a whore, you know that?"
"Dad, I'm ten." She muttered, ducking a hit from his left, barely missing the hit from his right. She watched as her father tripped over his own left foot and landed on the smashed glass of beer bottles and whiskey bottles in front of her, cutting his hands as he shoved them out to break his fall. Instead of breaking his fall, however, they made it worsen, and he fell onto his face, cutting a deep gash in his left cheek. Blood poured out of the wound, and he stood up, glaring at her, convinced it was the ten year old's fault.
"You're a whore! Look what you did to me!"
"Daddy, I'm ten. I can't even have any sex yet. And I didn't do that. You fell."
"Like hell I did! I would have remembered!"
"Dad, you're drunk." She grumbled angrily, pushing a long piece of blonde hair out of her face. She pulled the whole lot of it back into a tight pony-tail, and then wound it up into a bun. If there was going to be a fight tonight, she would not give him that advantage.
She looked at the door across from her, as it opened and flooded the dimly lit room with more light. She winced. 'Joey, go back to bed.' She pleaded, telepathically. The eight year old looked from his father to his sister, to his father again. A curious look of anger, disappointment, and sadness filled his eyes as he rested them on her own. He mouthed at her 'What are you doing?'
She mouthed back, slowly, so he could understand every word, and her wavering father could not. 'I'm being good, Joey. I didn't fight back yet.'
'Don't fight.' He worthed breathlessly, looking at her anxiously.
'Go back to bed.' She mouthed, looking at her father frantically, as he was about to turn around and notice her younger brother. 'Go to bed! Go to bed!'
He nodded at her, looking confused, but shut the door just as their father turned around to face the doorway of his younger son's bedroom. The pitter patter of little feet was not heard, and a nearly convincing snore was in it's place. Rowenna sighed, smiling. She'd taught him well. 'Thank you, Pup.' She thought, thanking whatever deity existed. She thought, momentarily, how depressing it was that she was ten, and had lost her faith alread, but realized, cynically, that having an abusive alcoholic for a father was one hell of a way to kill a child's faith. Turning her attention back to the matter at hand, she looked at the man before her with a look of utter contempt.
"So ya think ya can tell me what ta do, eh? Just like your scumbag whoe of a muther. Left me wit two kids n no one ter raise 'em but me. What a douche. What a see you next tuesday, why that bi-"
"Dad, stop it." Rowenna snapped. "I know Mom left us. I know you're angry. But you gotta stop doing that. I want to remember Mom when she loved me. And I want Joey to do the same."
He laughed at her. "She ain't never luved ya, honey. Neither of ya. She's hated ya since the day ya was born. Ya and Joey...she hated ya. Ya were monsters, always pickin' on Serenity, and she's got that eye problem now, and...well, ya don't mean squat ta her. We made custody arrangements years ago, you naiive little brat, and she said flat out she didn't want ya. An' neither do I. But I'm landed with ya, and it gives me money.."
She stared at him, horror-struck. 'It's just drunken ramblings. He's full of it.' She hissed at herself. But she couldn't help the swell of pain in her chest, the tears filling her eyes, her throat suddenly becoming immobilized. Unable to say anything, she unfortunately let him continue.
"Ya was a little witch since ya came outta that whore ten years ago. Ya was born almost an hour ago, ya know." He said, smirking. "Thought I'd forgotten it was yur birfday, eh? Yeah, ya lil maggot, I rememberd. Ya aint caused me nothin but pain an' grief since ya showed up in my life. You're the only reason she stayed wit me, ya know that? She was gonna leave, but then I got 'er pregnant, and suddenly we 'ad to stay together for da baby. 'N then she left me, seven years later, anyway, with two kids she didn't want, an' no money to pay the bills." He took a swig of his fire-whiskey. "Y'know what they called me in my ol' gang? Fire-whiskey Wheeler. It's 'cause fire-whiskey burns while it goes down y'ur throat, lingerin'. Just like me. Can't get what I'm sayin' outta yer pretty little head, can ya? It's stayin'. Just like the firewhiskey."
Unaware how much he really was hurting his daughter, James Wheeler hucked the half-emptied bottle at her head, laughing at the blood and whiskey mixed together, trickling down her fore-head in a painful combination. She winced, trying to wipe away the blood. Her throat was closing up on her, and the world was spinning. 'Mommy didn't want you.' She could hear a voice saying, over and over, in the back of her head. Everything was closing in on her. The tears in her eyes started to leak out, and she tried to say something, but couldn't manage a single word. The whiskey and the blood were stinging so much that she started sobbing, and fell to the glass covered ground. Her father just laughed.
"That's right. Fall on yer knees like yer whore of a mother always did. Runs in dat side o' the family, it does."
"Dad! Stop it!"
She looked up, tears and blood blinding her vision. But she could still make out the image of her little brother, standing in his doorway, glaring at his father, holding up his fists.
"Whatdyousay?" The slur was hard to comprehend, but the eight year old had understood it.
"Leave. Her. Alone." Joey growled. "She ain't done nothin' to ya!"
"Make me." James chuckled, nearly doubling over laughing when the little boy ran at him, and he caught his head in his hand. Joey took this to his advantage, however, and bit his father on the arm, so much so that he bled quite a bit. Rowenna, still unable to move or speak, tried to motion to Joey the lamp beside him. 'Knock him out!' She thought, desperately.
Her eyes seemed to tell him enough, and Joey leaned forward, grabbed the lamp, and smashed it over his father's head. Their father went flying backwards, eyes lolling up into his head, passing out. Joey ran over to Rowenna, leaning down to her on his knees, rubbing her back.
"Ro, are you okay? Ro?"
"I...I..." She gasped, trying to even out her breathing. Joey tugged at her, half-dragging her outside.
"Breathe. Breathe Ro. Dad's an ass. It's okay. Breathe. C'mon. Breathe..."
She took a deep breath. Then another. Then, another. Sobbing, slowly, and breathing, slowly, she came back to normal body functions, for the most part, and turned to face him. "I can't stay here." She whispered. "I can't do it. I can't stay with him."
"Where are you gonna go?"
"You're not staying either. You're coming with me. And we're going to Mom's."
"Mom's?"
"Mom's."
"She won't take us."
"Yes she will."
"She'll only take you. Ro...I can't leave him." Joey whispered, looking back at the house. "He's a lunatic..but I can't leave him. I love him, Ro. I know you don't, but..."
"I love him, and I love you, but I can't. I can't. I can't do it." She cried, sitting down and rocking back and forth. "Come with me, we'll leave tonight, and he'll never know, and we'll go with Mom, and we won't have to hide any cuts anymore and..."
"No, Ro. I can't live with Mom. She doesn't love me."
Her throat tightened again. 'The two kids she didn't want.' She looked at her little brother, and sighed. "Mom loves you-"
"Naw, it's aiight. I dealt with that on my own. Go. Get outta here. Call me when you're stayin' somewhere safe."
She went inside, packed a bag, found her mother's address, and hugged him. "I'll call you." She whispered, kissing him on the head. "I love you. Don't let him hurt you. Do what I taught you."
"I will."
"And call me if you need to cover anything up, you're still not good at that."
"I will."
"I'll bring by some food later, to restock the fridge-"
"Just go!" He smirked, laughing. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just go."
She looked at him, sighing. "Goodbye. I love you."
"I love you too."
As she walked out of the house, it occurred to her how mature an eight year old could really, truly be.
( Uh...yeah. Nother chappie. Still want anymore?...Review.
YFFSM,
Pen )