You Can Tell Me Anything
Ch. 50
*Kat’s Flash Back*
I remember sitting in my room listening to the Clash. I was 11 years old. It was Tre’s 12th birthday. I was getting dressed and 15 minutes late for the movie we were all meeting at. I had my headphones on and I was putting my hair up into a ponytail. I remember my dad banging on the door. I’ll never forget it. The first time he hit me. The first time I remember seeing his eyes so full of hate. I don’t remember being scared. I’ve watched him to stuff like this to my mom thousands of times. I guess I just thought it was my time to be beat. Not that I even thought of it as beating. One time I asked my mom about it and she said she liked it. She said it was just something that some couples do. She said that sometimes daddies get mad and they can’t control it, so they take it out on their families. He was my father, the man I ran to when someone pulled my hair or told me I had cooties. He was drunk that day. That was all I knew. I knew that my mom wasn’t home and I knew that Billie, Mike and Tre were already on their way to the movies and wouldn’t be able to hear me if I yelled for help. He grabbed me by my wrists and threw me against the wall. I was wearing a necklace made of beads that Tre had given me for my last birthday. One of the last things I remember is hearing the sting snap and watching the beads roll across the floor and under the bed. The next think I remember is waking up on my bed without my pants, hurt, bleeding and bruised all over. I got up slowly, walked to the door and shut it as quietly as possible even though I knew my dad was either at a bar drinking more or passed out on the couch. I looked at the clock and saw that it was past midnight. I’d been passed out for over 5 hours. The only thing I remember thinking was that I’d missed Tre’s birthday. I stayed up all night waiting for him to come back but he never did. The next day I called Mike around noon and told him that I was really sick, too sick for anyone to come see me. Mike wanted me to call Tre but I told him that I was to sick but I really just couldn’t face lying to him. Tre has this freaky way of always knowing when I lie. I just really didn’t want them to know. I was scared that they wouldn’t want me anymore. So I never told them. The first time it happened I stayed away from the boys until the bruises faded and the cuts healed. I couldn’t hide every time it happened though. For the first year it only happened once a month or so but as time went on it happened every two weeks then every week then every couple days. My dad seemed to know that if he wasn’t careful about were he left marks, Mike, Billie Joe and Tre would see and he would be as good as dead. So before too long most of the cuts and bruises were only in places my cloths covered. I think once when we were 14 Tre might have seen a bruise at the pool. He never said anything about it though and I am rather clumsy so I guess he just assumed that I fell again. All he did was stare at it for a second before I splashed him in the face making him look away. My dad never did stop. It just got to the point were it was so bad, my mother finally noticed. It got better from them on out. Unfortunately that was only a few months ago. He never did stop…he told me he’d always find me.
I remember sitting in my room listening to the Clash. I was 11 years old. It was Tre’s 12th birthday. I was getting dressed and 15 minutes late for the movie we were all meeting at. I had my headphones on and I was putting my hair up into a ponytail. I remember my dad banging on the door. I’ll never forget it. The first time he hit me. The first time I remember seeing his eyes so full of hate. I don’t remember being scared. I’ve watched him to stuff like this to my mom thousands of times. I guess I just thought it was my time to be beat. Not that I even thought of it as beating. One time I asked my mom about it and she said she liked it. She said it was just something that some couples do. She said that sometimes daddies get mad and they can’t control it, so they take it out on their families. He was my father, the man I ran to when someone pulled my hair or told me I had cooties. He was drunk that day. That was all I knew. I knew that my mom wasn’t home and I knew that Billie, Mike and Tre were already on their way to the movies and wouldn’t be able to hear me if I yelled for help. He grabbed me by my wrists and threw me against the wall. I was wearing a necklace made of beads that Tre had given me for my last birthday. One of the last things I remember is hearing the sting snap and watching the beads roll across the floor and under the bed. The next think I remember is waking up on my bed without my pants, hurt, bleeding and bruised all over. I got up slowly, walked to the door and shut it as quietly as possible even though I knew my dad was either at a bar drinking more or passed out on the couch. I looked at the clock and saw that it was past midnight. I’d been passed out for over 5 hours. The only thing I remember thinking was that I’d missed Tre’s birthday. I stayed up all night waiting for him to come back but he never did. The next day I called Mike around noon and told him that I was really sick, too sick for anyone to come see me. Mike wanted me to call Tre but I told him that I was to sick but I really just couldn’t face lying to him. Tre has this freaky way of always knowing when I lie. I just really didn’t want them to know. I was scared that they wouldn’t want me anymore. So I never told them. The first time it happened I stayed away from the boys until the bruises faded and the cuts healed. I couldn’t hide every time it happened though. For the first year it only happened once a month or so but as time went on it happened every two weeks then every week then every couple days. My dad seemed to know that if he wasn’t careful about were he left marks, Mike, Billie Joe and Tre would see and he would be as good as dead. So before too long most of the cuts and bruises were only in places my cloths covered. I think once when we were 14 Tre might have seen a bruise at the pool. He never said anything about it though and I am rather clumsy so I guess he just assumed that I fell again. All he did was stare at it for a second before I splashed him in the face making him look away. My dad never did stop. It just got to the point were it was so bad, my mother finally noticed. It got better from them on out. Unfortunately that was only a few months ago. He never did stop…he told me he’d always find me.