Why Does It Hurt?

Why Does It Hurt? Chapter Two

September 22nd 2009

Dear Diary,

I don’t know why, but today I feel down in the dumps. I haven’t felt so glum (without a reason) for ages, in fact the last time I felt so glum was probably when I was told about my mother at a young age and realizing that I never really knew her.

I don’t see a reason for being so sad, well depressed would be a better word, when after all it should be my sister in this mood. I know my sister has always had it tough. It was her fifteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago and ever since then our father has been treating her differently. He doesn’t scowl at her anymore; instead he smiles and tries to get her to talk to him. Of course she won’t though. She’s very reluctant and only talks to him when he either threatens to wack her or promises to give her something. I don’t think she is gain enough to resist the threats and the promises that he makes are pretty high and mighty, things that Tara just can’t resist.

I can see the confusion, clear as day on her face. Why after all this time is he paying her attention? The only thing we can really see, and we have discussed it, is that it must be very bad news for her.

Dakota

***

After reading and re-reading the diary entry many, many times I closed the journal and placed it back on my bookshelf to collect dust again. I don’t what inspired me to look at the journal again, considering it involved some very dark thoughts and was the beginning of my depressed cycle, but for some reason I found myself longing to grab the small leather-bound book and read it from front cover to back.

“Hey what are you doing?” Tara said as she appeared in my doorway. She looked at me for a second and when I nodded she came inside my room, shutting the door behind her.

“Just looking through some old diaries, so, in other words, none of your business.” I smiled and sat on my desk chair. She sat on the bed, her legs underneath her and her arms crossed. She looked insecure, like a small child unsure of what they would do after their drawing.

“How long ago?” She gestured briefly to the books. My diaries weren’t hidden, she knew exactly where they were, yet our trust in each other was so great I knew she wouldn’t dare look. In fact she probably knew half of the stuff I wrote and wouldn’t want to revisit the days that I had recorded.

“Two years.”

“So you were thirteen?”

“Precisely. And you had just turned fifteen.” She shuddered as I mentioned the age.

“And why were you looking at that particular diary? Is everything okay? Dad isn’t trying to hurt you or anything?” Her voice was now only a harsh whisper, probably scared that dad or his wife would hear us, but they were both at work.

“Not yet, no.” I sighed, I knew the day would come where my own father would want to hurt me and I knew I would have to prepare myself for that.

***

October 3rd 2009

Dear Diary,

In a span of a few short weeks, my sister’s life has come crashing to an abrupt stop. I feel really bad writing this down, I am sure she wouldn’t want me to document this part of her life, but I feel I have to. If I don’t, then I am scared I will forget, and even though I desperately want to forget, I think of movies, where the main character forgets something and it comes back to haunt them. Forgetting this is not even an option.

I don’t know where to start to explain the damage that my father has done to her, not only to her emotional well-being but also physically. I doubt she will ever be able to forgive him. I guess I should start from where I left off on this situation a couple of weeks ago, where I mentioned that my father had an attitude change toward Tara.

Since then, Tara hasn’t been able to avoid him. His threats became even more serious if she wouldn’t talk to him, instead of wacks, it became beatings and he would follow through on these. There are never any promises any more, simply threats. You may think that something as simple as talking to him should be easy, but it isn’t. When we were little he used to beat us up for no reason, just slapped us over the face. I can’t clearly remember, and neither can my sister, but we are sure that he used to do this to my mother as well. He is an alcoholic and has been for years. When my mother died in a car crash, he was the one to be drink-driving. I don’t know why, but he was never trialled over it or sent to prison like he should have been.

Anyway back to the present, even though it seems even harder to write.

Tara sat me down today, she broke down into tears too. She said he had threatened to beat her again if she didn’t talk to him, and so she went with him into his bedroom, just to talk. But dad had other plans. OH, this is hard to write! He forced her to sit on the bed next to him and told her to do whatever he said otherwise there would be serious consequences. She did sit. He then sat beside her…his hand wrapped around her waist…he kissed her. Not a family kiss either!!!

I am deeply concerned. I know it was one kiss but we are both rather shaken over it. I don’t know if I will ever be able to look my father again in the eye. Tara told me not to tell anyone, and I doubt I will, I am too scared what will happen to me if father finds out that I know let alone if I tell people.

Dakota.