I'll Tell You My Story, If You Promise Not to Tell
Following Day
Jenna's POV
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I gathered my thoughs and again began to write.
"One night when I was about six, I was home alone. I knew what this meant, even at six. Dad was at the bar near the nail boutique my mom used to go to. I held my little toy cat, sitting on my bed. I felt myself blankly stare out the small window into the endless darkness.
The first thing I hear was the door open and a semi-random cough.
"Jehnna..." He slurred, probably trying to yell, but he was still speaking at a low volume.
I jumped, though it wasn't loud, knowing he was stumbling down the hall to my pale blue room. I smoothly strode to my closet, still clutching the tatttered cat. I opened the sliding wood door, trying to make it silent, and it was quiet enough for him to not notice. I sat, crammed in behind some stuff. It was dark, so I'm not sure what. The door of my room creaked loudly open and i saw from under the crack that the light was on.
"Where are you?" he said, still slurring nearly every word. "Under the bed is where every one looks..." Dad babbled some impossible to understand nonsense, then said after a few minutes: "The closet is too obvious, Jenna, stop bein' so obvious bout stuff..."
I knew already he was a violent drunk. He flung the door open, my heart raced much faster than I thought possible. "Why the hell were you hiding?" he howled, grabbing my arm and practically threw me out of my hiding place. I grasped the black and white toy tigher, curling into a ball. I had my eyes squeezed shut, but felt a stinging slap several moments later, followed by more and more, and several kicks.
I was happy when he was no longer amused and passed out in the kitchen, then I staggered back into my room. It was well into the night, so I practically passed out myself."
I paused writing when I heard the bell. I was going to stay after to write anyways. It would prolong going home. I knew that we would read after recess, so I pulled out "A child Called It". I didn't get far, but it was something I related to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I gathered my thoughs and again began to write.
"One night when I was about six, I was home alone. I knew what this meant, even at six. Dad was at the bar near the nail boutique my mom used to go to. I held my little toy cat, sitting on my bed. I felt myself blankly stare out the small window into the endless darkness.
The first thing I hear was the door open and a semi-random cough.
"Jehnna..." He slurred, probably trying to yell, but he was still speaking at a low volume.
I jumped, though it wasn't loud, knowing he was stumbling down the hall to my pale blue room. I smoothly strode to my closet, still clutching the tatttered cat. I opened the sliding wood door, trying to make it silent, and it was quiet enough for him to not notice. I sat, crammed in behind some stuff. It was dark, so I'm not sure what. The door of my room creaked loudly open and i saw from under the crack that the light was on.
"Where are you?" he said, still slurring nearly every word. "Under the bed is where every one looks..." Dad babbled some impossible to understand nonsense, then said after a few minutes: "The closet is too obvious, Jenna, stop bein' so obvious bout stuff..."
I knew already he was a violent drunk. He flung the door open, my heart raced much faster than I thought possible. "Why the hell were you hiding?" he howled, grabbing my arm and practically threw me out of my hiding place. I grasped the black and white toy tigher, curling into a ball. I had my eyes squeezed shut, but felt a stinging slap several moments later, followed by more and more, and several kicks.
I was happy when he was no longer amused and passed out in the kitchen, then I staggered back into my room. It was well into the night, so I practically passed out myself."
I paused writing when I heard the bell. I was going to stay after to write anyways. It would prolong going home. I knew that we would read after recess, so I pulled out "A child Called It". I didn't get far, but it was something I related to.