Hi again! I had a serious itch to write the next chapter for the story, because I have so many ideas! This chapter isn't too eventful, and I wrote this over a period of two weeks, so the writing may get worse as it goes on. Sorry! Anyway, enjoy!
"Mamma, don't leave!" I screamed to my mother.
"Quit acting like a baby, Helga!You're six years old! You stay in here until you realize what you've done!" She screamed in my face.
"But I don't like it in here, mommy! Don't leave me here again!" I was crying and whining, hoping to get my older sisters attention. Maybe she would come and rescue me. It was very unlikely; she didn't want to 'get in the way of mommy and daddy'.
"You deserve this you little rat! You do not go behind your own parent's backs and tell your teacher about our parenting skills! You're lucky we even kept you! We could easily throw you outside, and never let you in! Now stop whining!" Her face was inches from mine.
"Mommy, don't! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" I pleaded with her.
"I don't have any care in what you say! Now you stay in here quietly, and think about what you've done!" She slammed the closet door, and put a chair in front of it, to trap me in.
"Mommy!" I screamed. "Mommy! I'll be a good girl! Mommy open the door! I promise I'll be good!" I begged her until I couldn't scream anymore.
The room was dark, with nothing else in it but me. I attempted kicking the door down, but it was no use. The chair was much heavier than my deprived body. I got up, and rammed into it. Nothing.
I took a nap on the floor, in hopes that when my eyes opened, I wouldn't be trapped in the small space that was slowly becoming my 'room'. When I was awakened, my hopes were shattered. The room was still as dark as ever. I peeked through the slits in the door, and saw no sun light through the window on the opposite side of the room. I shifted over to the other side of the door, and peered toward my parent's bed. They were fast asleep.
I needed to use the bathroom badly, but I knew they wouldn't let me out just for that. It was worth a shot, though.
I didn't scream, because I knew there would be consequences. "Mommy", I said in a hushed tone."Mamma, I have to pee really badly. Mommy?" Nothing came from their direction. I was now crossing my legs, hoping they would let me out before I exploded. After a long, strenuous 30 minutes, I couldn't hold it in any longer.
I started crying. I stripped off my damp pants, and sat as far as possible from them.
My stomach was growling. "Mommy!" I was yelling. I was so hungry, the penalty of waking them didn't faze me. "Mommy! I'm hungry! Please let me out! I'll be a good girl! I promise!"
I heard rustling from the bed. Instead of hearing soft footsteps, I heard loud thumps on the ground. I knew that who was coming wasn't going to be very kind. I heard the chair move, and the door quickly opened. I wasn't greeted with the face of my mom, but the big sweaty features of my dad.
"What are you whining about now? What could possibly be wrong?" He was inches away from my face, spraying me with saliva.
"I was…I…." I wasn't looking him in the eyes. If he was trying to startle me, it was working.
"Spit it out!" His voice was growing.
"It doesn't matter anymore." I still wasn't looking him in the eyes.
He slapped my face. A wave of pain swept through my whole body. I began shivering.
"Say sorry for disrespecting your father!"He peered into my eyes.
"I'm…." I was crying now. Maybe showing weakness was what he wanted.
"That's it!" He got up, and went into his closet. He grabbed his leather belt. "You; come with me." His voice was now soft. It was then that he was most dangerous.
He grabbed my wrist, and dragged me forcefully. He threw me inside my room, followed me inside, and locked the door. He walked towards me, and herded me into a corner, like I was a lamb ready for slaughter. I sat down, and held my legs, protecting my face.
I sat there shaking with fear. His arm came up, and lashed down.
I sat up in bed, sweating, breathing heavily, and screaming. My heart was beating rapidly from the memories of my childhood. For years, I hadn't had one nightmare of my father, but ever since giving birth to my second child, it was all coming back. Every bruise and cut; every slap, kick and harsh words that spilled from his mouth. All of it was what I never wanted to do to my children.
Arnold sat up instantly, and held me in his arms. "Shh, Helga. It's ok." He was stroking my head. "It was just a dream. It was just a dream." He repeated. I cried into him.
"It's almost 6:30; might as well stay up. Want me to make you some tea?" I nodded my head slightly. He kissed my head, and slipped out the door.
For some reason I felt guilty; guilty that I had never told anyone my secret; not even my fiancé. And now, more than ever, I wanted to tell somebody. I had woken up screaming for the past three nights. All the nightmares I woke up from were memories from my childhood, but instead of the abuser being Bob, and the innocent child being me, I replaced Bob, and Chance replaced me.
I got up, and walked into the kitchen. Arnold turned towards me with a slight smile, but it quickly faded when he saw my serious expression.
"Do you know what this is from?" I pointed to lengthy scar on my neck.
"That was from when you fell on ice. You told me that when we were little. I remember the exact day. You came into school and sat down next to me in Mr. Simmons room. It was winter, and we had been playing outside. You came in, looking miserable, and when I asked what's wrong, you said, 'I fell on the ice football head'." He looked innocently.
"Did I ever tell you about this scar on my hand?"
"Yes, it was from when you were in a car crash." He put down the kettle, and walked towards me. "What's wrong Helga?"
I took a deep breath. "I feel like such a terrible person for not telling you, Arnold." He cupped my face.
"You're not a terrible person Helga. What's wrong? You can tell me." He always looked so sincere.
"All these cuts weren't from me being a clumsy child, or always falling down." I looked down at my hands.
"What were they from? Helga, please tell me." Arnolds voice was cracking, as though he was about to cry; seeing him like that made me cry.
He pulled me into an amorous hug. "You can tell me anything Helga. You know that."
"None of these were ever my fault, Arnold." I paused to let him process it.
"What do you mean?" His asked, his voice hushed.
I looked up into his eyes. "None of these scars were from a 'what'. They were from…a 'who'." I sounded like a kicked puppy at this point.
His soft face became a stern within moments. "Please don't tell-…you mean…Helga…". He hugged me even tighter. Reality was hitting him hard.
He pushed me away slightly, and laid his palms on my shoulders. "Is that what your nightmares are about?" I nodded my head.
"The nightmares I'm having aren't nightmares, though. They're memories." I cried into his shirt.
He gave me some tea, and we sat on the couch in silence.
He was running his fingers through my hair. I put the tea cup on the coffee table, and looked up at him.
"I'm sorry for never telling you. It was just something that needed to be kept from people." He kissed my cheek.
"This isn't your fault Helga. Nothing was your fault. You had a right to keep it to yourself." He paused for a moment. "So, you haven't told anyone?"
"Well," I said. "My mother knew the whole time, but never once stepped in to tell him he was too aggressive. Not once. I think that's what hurts more. The fact that my own mother couldn't be bothered to protect her own daughter."
"Did he ever stop?" Arnold asked.
"Eventually. His beeper business was going well and I told him I would contact the police if he didn't stop. He came to realize that if I told anybody, his business would go down the toilet. So I never told anyone, in exchange for my safety. I kept in a terrible secret, so I wouldn't be beaten anymore. I know I probably sound crazy, but at the age 14, it seemed right."
"It was the right thing to do. You're safety and well-being is the most important thing. You were very wise…Thank you for telling me, Helga." He kissed me.
"No problem." I waited for moment before I spoke again, debating whether I should tell him the next point of information. "You know, I almost told you one other time."
His eyebrows rose. "When was this?"
"Not when you expect. When we were dating, I walked into the classroom with a bruise on my arm and a cut on my cheek. I came into the class and the teacher said, 'Late again Ms. Pataki. Not a surprise anymore, really. And next time, come to class clean.' I was so embarrassed. Everyone in the class started laughing. Then at lunch, you came and talked to me alone. And you kept asking me where I got the bruise and cut from, but I kept saying it was nothing. I was about to tell you, but then the bell rang, and we went inside. The next day, you had completely forgotten the whole thing; like it never happened." I looked away from him.
He titled my chin until I was staring at him again. "So you didn't tell me, because I was some stupid 11 year old? You know I could've helped you."
"No; you couldn't have. Right now you could help me. But back then, it would've just made it worse. I was handling it fine. You just said it was the right choice. It's no biggie anymore." I said timidly.
"No biggie? I don't mean to insult you Helga, but I don't know what you're talking about. 'Handling it fine' would have consisted of telling me. Not keeping silent and being beaten every day." I was surprised at him. Generally, he was so understanding. But at the time I needed him most, he was his alter ego.
"You know what Arnold? Say what you like, but I don't want to really deal with this right now." I removed his arms off of me, and stood up. "I'm glad that telling you was the right thing to do." I said sarcastically.
I stormed into the bedroom, and slammed the door. No longer than a minute later, Arnold came knocking.
"Helga, I didn't mean what I said. You're dealing with a lot right now, and I should've realized that. Helga, please open the door." I could see his shadow from where I was sitting on the bed, staring at the door. Tears were streaming down my face.
I got dressed into clothes other than pajamas, grabbed my purse, and headed towards the front door.
Arnold came rushing over. "Helga, I need to-where are you going?" He grabbed my arm.
I tugged away, and responded. "I'm going to see my son."
"Do you want me to come with you?" All I wanted to do was bury my head into his shoulder and cry. But I couldn't. Not right now.
"No, I don't. And if you're worried that I'm not 'handling the situation correctly', just tell me. You're being pretty honest today." I pierced his eyes with mine, and then slipped out through the front door.
Chance looked the same way he did a week ago; pale, skinny, and tiny. He couldn't breathe properly, he wasn't digesting food. The nurses were scrambling to figure out a formula that he would be able to take nutrients from. They had found one that helped him for a day, but his stomach rejected it a day later.
I took a chair, and sat down next to him. A nurse walked in.
"Hello, Ms. Pataki." The nurse was a plump woman, with pink scrubs on.
"Hello. How's he doing?", I asked. That was always the first question I had.
"He's doing fine. In fact, you can hold him if you like." My eyes lit up.
"Really? That would be great!" I sounded like an excited child.
The nurse grabbed him carefully, and handed him to me. His soft skin and silky hair lay on my arm. His little eyes looked at me, and then scrunched back up, and he fell asleep. I brushed his arm with my thumb and looked at him with amazement. I couldn't help but ruin the moment for myself, by fixating on how many wires were attached to one child. I counted 12.
I stayed in his room until I had to leave, at 5 pm. The nurse escorted me out, and then closed the doors. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing to do. Because, in all honesty, I never knew if that would be the last moment I had with him.
I got into the car, and then out of nowhere, I begun crying. Crying hysterically, to the point where breathing was becoming hard. I didn't want to go back to our apartment, not right now. Not when I'm mad at Arnold, even though I wanted to hug him so badly. Not when I have to see Caressa, which will just remind me that I have another child suffering. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to drive anywhere, and at that point, I didn't want to be alive.
So I just sat there. I don't know exactly what I was waiting for, but it seemed fine. I checked my phone; I spent two hours sitting in my car, in the parking lot of the hospital. A surge of sadness came over me. I needed to see my son. I was so close to him, yet the farthest I could be.
I stormed into the hospital, past the nurses and the receptionist.
"Excuse me miss, its past visiting hours. Excuse me?" I ignored her and kept walking. She came up behind me. "Excuse me, visiting hours are over. Now if you could please wait in the reception area, I would be happy to assist you." She touched my arm, and I don't know what came over me, but I slapped her. I'm not sure if it was sadness, or anger, but I hit her face as hard as I could. I turned around immediately, and terror swept over me.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't-". I started crying. I felt like I was in an insane asylum, and I'd finally cracked.
The nurse ran away, and grabbed the phone to call security. In a split second, I ran to Chance's room. I tried to pry open the doors, but they were locked, and probably for good reason. I began banging on the doors, hoping someone would open them for me. When banging on them didn't work and I started to scream. I don't know why.
Everything; all of my anger, frustration and sadness had been building up for so long. Seconds later, two security men came and held my arms behind my back, and sat me down.
"I just want to see my son! I didn't mean to hurt anyone!" I was screaming in their faces.
After I stopped crying, they said calmly, "Is there anyone we can contact to come and see you?"
"Arnold." I said.
One man held me down, while the other called Arnold.
Arnold rushed over, and tried to hold me. I pushed away from him. "Helga, what's wrong, are you mad at me?"
I avoided his eye contact, and began screaming. I escaped the security mans arms, and ran to Chances door. I slammed it, but was then pushed to the ground forcefully by the security men.
"Don't hurt her!" Arnold screamed. "Don't hurt her!" h\He tried to open their pry on me, but they pushed him off.
"I'm sorry Arnold. I'm so sorry." I looked into his eyes, which looked so hurt.
I had a mental breakdown. Nobody knew what triggered it, but the nurses said it was a long time coming, after everything that's happened. I wasn't allowed to see Chance for a week, because they feared I would hurt him. The whole time I was thinking, I'm becoming my father. I tried to push that thought away, but no matter what it always crept in.