"The house is quiet except for the hum of the tv in the distance. I look around and notice I am in the room I had when I was 9.
My head snaps up as I hear voices rise in the kitchen. The foot steps outside my room get closer. "Leave her alone!" My mother yells. The urgency in her voice makes me crawl further under my blankets. At the last second I decide to run and hide in my closet.
This isn't real. I must be dreaming. I put my head down and wrap my frail 9 year old arms around my knees.
My head snaps up as my room door is flung open.
He won't find me. He can't hurt me. He's not real.
"Get your ungrateful ass out here!" My father slurs.
I hear some rustling in the room, "Stop!! You're drunk!" My mom yells at him.
I hear her right outside my closet door. She's blocking it with her body.
"Get out of the way you stupid whore!" The crack of his smack echoes throughout the room.
I let out a silent cry. My chest begins to burn. My vision starts getting fuzzy and I feel like I'm going to puke.
Suddenly the door is open and all I see is my mother leaning on my bed with her hand cupping her face.
"I'M SORRY DAD! I'LL BE A GOOD GIRL I SWEAR!" I yell tears streaming down my face.
I look into the bloodshot eyes of the man who was my father. He looks like a wild animal. With his lips pulled back from his teeth like a rabid dog.
His arm cocks back and I know what's coming so I raise my arms to shield my face, but he's faster.
His hit gets me right on the side of my face. My ear rings as I stare at my mother. Pleading with my eyes to help me. But how can she help me when she can't even help herself.
How can he be a loving father during the day, but become a monster as soon as he gets liquor in his system.
He turns around to walk away. I wipe at my tears thanking god it's over.
I run to my mom and cling to her body. Before she gets her arms around me I'm pulled from her grasp.
I look down at my arm and see my dad's large hand tightened around my wrist.
"I'm not done with you. If you want to act like a bitch you're going to get hit like a bitch." He shouts spit flying out of his mouth.
He starts undoing his belt. My breath gets caught it my throat, it's hard to breath.
He doesn't seem to care that I'm gasping for air.
"SHUT UP!" I flinch from his words.
His belt is now in his hand.
"Dad....I-I- can't...breath!" I claw at my throat.
"John! Look at her! She can't breath." My mom runs to me and grabs my face in between her hands.
He doesn't listen, he shoves her away from me.
At this point I'm choking.
When the belt makes contact with my face I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
He hits my tiny body repeatedly, all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut, lay on the floor in the fetal position and wait for the blows to stop.
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