Stay Gold

I did my usual rounds that I do during each and every summer. Clean the house, get the vegetables from the garden, get the eggs from the hens. This was life. This was my life. This was my hell. My own living, breathing hell. And my father was the devil himself, I swear.

I walk in the kitchen and start to prepare dinner. I peel potatoes, slice carrots, and stick a ham in the oven.

“Elaine, go get me a beer,” my daddy shouted.

It was 5‘oclock, Daddy was already drunk. He had been drunk for several hours already. I quickly got him a beer before he could beat me like one of those slaves that they have in Georgia. I went into the den and handed him his beer. He scowled at me, but didn’t say anything.

I went back to making our dinner. It’s always just been me and him. Momma died when I was just a little girl, so I don’t remember much of her. I wear her necklace everyday. It’s the only thing I have left of her.

I never knew how she died, though. My grandaddy always thought that my momma pissed my daddy off one day, so he offed her. I try not thinking about that awful possibility, though. Daddy had been a drunk ever since I could remember. Even at the age of 3, I’d still be bringing him beers. If I didn’t, he’d hit me. He’d hit me hard.

Never once though, was I afraid of him. I always told myself that I would run away before he could ever hurt me. Boy, was I wrong. I’ve lived through 15 years of beatings, and not one person has suspected Daddy beating me like an old rug.

‘How did you get that black eye?’ or ‘What about that cut, or that bruise?’, were the questions I faced daily after a beating.

“I fell,” or, “I ran into a wall,” were my excuses.

They worked, usually.

Until one day, my teacher suspected something was fishy. She made a report and a police man came to our house to investigate. Of course, daddy said nothing was wrong, that everything was all peachy keen, so the police left.

And that’s when I would “have an accident”. An accident that left me with a broken arm.

“Everything will be okay, Elaine,” I told myself; When in reality, I didn’t know if I’d live to see daylight ever again.

I always wondered what a normal family was like, mainly because I had never been around one. Daddy didn’t let me have any friends. Rather yet, he didn’t let me have any boyfriends.

A boy in school wrote me a poem, and Daddy saw it. Kicked.

“You been doin’ something you shouldn’t of with some boy?!” he’d screech.

Another kick.

“I don’t want to lose you, Elaine, not like how I lost your dear old mother.”

Grabbed by the hair, punched.

“I love you way to much.”

Slap.

How could you say you love somebody, then turn around and do something cruel like that to them?

On the floor.

Kicked in the stomach.

I’d try to make a run for the door. But every time, Daddy would catch me.

Thrown to the ground, another kick to the head.

Unconscious.