Pick Me Right up off the Ground
five
The boys took me to the hospital where I got my back checked out. We had all come up with a story about a dog that had jumped on me. The nurse didn’t seem to believe them, but she didn’t question me. After my two hours long hospital visit, and seven stitches total, they drove me home.
Walking into my house was like walking into an action scene. I could never tell if my dad was on the couch, in his room, in the kitchen, or what. All I knew was that I had to make it to my room before he started getting angry about where I was for the last two hours. If my dad saw that I got stitches, he would immediately think I told someone about the beating.
He wasn’t a drunk, but he didn’t need alcohol to hurt me.
I was about a foot away from my door when he came barreling out of his, nearly running me over.
“Where were you? I called your school, you missed English!”
He slapped my cheek, which sent me sprawling into the wall. My back burned with the impact, and I winced. He grabbed my chin and twisted my head to face his. His eyes were bright blue, angry with me, his only child.
“Daddy, please…”
I whimpered, grabbing at his wrist.
“You are a disappointment to me, you lowly whore!”
He threw me against the wall again before pushing me at the stairs. I grasped the handrail and ran down the stairs, hoping to get to the front door before he got me. I was too slow. He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me hard to the right, making me collide with the side table where we held our mail. The hard wood would leave bruises on my torso.
Breathless I fell onto the ground and crawled as fast as I could towards the living room, where I could at least crouch behind the couch and not worry too much about the beatings I got. Again, he was faster. Catching my ankle, he dragged me across the floor into the kitchen and cornered me against the counters.
He brought out his belt, and I screamed at him, pleading with him not to do it, that I was sorry. But like every other beating, he ignored me and began to whip me, the metal of his belt catching on my arms, shoulders and chest. I cried as he beat me, dropping his belt to start kicking and hitting me until I passed out.
-time lapse-
When I came to, I was in my bed. I thought I was paralyzed; my lower body was stiff with pain. That was when I saw that I had been changed from my school clothes into my pajamas. Shivering with anxiety, I found the strength to get my laptop and pull it out. I typed an incredibly short email to the madden twins.
‘He did it again’.
Walking into my house was like walking into an action scene. I could never tell if my dad was on the couch, in his room, in the kitchen, or what. All I knew was that I had to make it to my room before he started getting angry about where I was for the last two hours. If my dad saw that I got stitches, he would immediately think I told someone about the beating.
He wasn’t a drunk, but he didn’t need alcohol to hurt me.
I was about a foot away from my door when he came barreling out of his, nearly running me over.
“Where were you? I called your school, you missed English!”
He slapped my cheek, which sent me sprawling into the wall. My back burned with the impact, and I winced. He grabbed my chin and twisted my head to face his. His eyes were bright blue, angry with me, his only child.
“Daddy, please…”
I whimpered, grabbing at his wrist.
“You are a disappointment to me, you lowly whore!”
He threw me against the wall again before pushing me at the stairs. I grasped the handrail and ran down the stairs, hoping to get to the front door before he got me. I was too slow. He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me hard to the right, making me collide with the side table where we held our mail. The hard wood would leave bruises on my torso.
Breathless I fell onto the ground and crawled as fast as I could towards the living room, where I could at least crouch behind the couch and not worry too much about the beatings I got. Again, he was faster. Catching my ankle, he dragged me across the floor into the kitchen and cornered me against the counters.
He brought out his belt, and I screamed at him, pleading with him not to do it, that I was sorry. But like every other beating, he ignored me and began to whip me, the metal of his belt catching on my arms, shoulders and chest. I cried as he beat me, dropping his belt to start kicking and hitting me until I passed out.
-time lapse-
When I came to, I was in my bed. I thought I was paralyzed; my lower body was stiff with pain. That was when I saw that I had been changed from my school clothes into my pajamas. Shivering with anxiety, I found the strength to get my laptop and pull it out. I typed an incredibly short email to the madden twins.
‘He did it again’.