The 20 Percent

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"All she does is cry, look at her she's laying there crying."

"She's 5 years old James, she's going to cry." I hear my mother yelling at my father in the living room. I currently am laying on the living room floor with a pillow over my face sobbing.

There are two things I know without a doubt in this world.

My father hates me, for no reason other than my simple existence.

My mom hates that he hates me.

The only thing I remember is his mean words and the way he never disguises his hate for me. I do not know what I did to make him hate me.

"Get her ass up off the floor, crying like that in the middle of the god damn living room." I hear him ground out, and my mom kneeling beside me.

"Go to your room sis."

I stagger up, sniffling, snot running from my nose onto my top lip.

I walk into the room I share with my little sister, her sitting on the bottom of the bunk bed watching me with big brown eyes.

She lays down, and I move over to the ladder on the metal bunk bed and climb up it. Immediately feeling safer in my princess comforter and my baby blanket with my SpongeBob pillow surrounding me. I cry into my pillow, until I finally fall asleep from the exhaustion weighing down my little body.

Before I know it, I wake up in my room, the darkness closing in on me. Looking around the darkened room I swear I see someone standing in the corner. I close my eyes tightly and pull the covers over my head.

My grandpa used to say that I could see monsters, I would always ask my grandma why there were monsters on my grandpa's back. Little did they know that the monsters are not the things you see in the darkened corner of your room. It's the breathing people in this world.

After taking a few deep breaths, I get out of bed and walk down the ladder to go into the living room, the carpet scratchy on my bare feet. Opening the door, I hear the TV in the background. I try and swallow, but my mouth and throat are dry, sweat gathering on my forehead.

The living room is illuminated by the flashing lights, the white walls transforming to a soft blue. I walk further into the living room to see my dad laying on the couch, the red racecar quilt covering his body. He lays on his side facing the TV. His eyes dart to me standing there, my little heart pounding a mile a minute.

"What are you doing up?" He says unkindly.

"T-thirsty." I whisper, my throat hoarse.

"Speak up when you're talking to me."

"I'm thirsty dad."

I watch him sigh, before motioning at me to come to him. Eager for the small amount of his attention, I stumble over to him.

"Lay beside me baby." I hear him whisper in my ear when I get close enough. He smells like stale cigarettes and sweat. I look at him before glancing at the Tasmanian Devil on his chest. He looks at me with no emotion, I know I must listen to him.

I look nothing like him from what my mom has told me. He has a goatee on his face, small but there. Tattooed arms up and down, from what I heard they are called sleeves. Mahogany brown hair peppered with grey, and a small gut. His eyes are light brown, almost hazel.

He scares me, but I love my dad. So, I get up on the couch and lay out beside him. I feel his hands as they roam my body.

This is the first time I have experienced my father molesting me.

Years pass by and I grow older. Every year I get older, the meaner he gets. It is at nighttime when I feel like he loves me.

I do not know how old I am when my father tries to kill me, all I remember is the fear. I remember him chasing me around the house and into the yard, trying to catch me. I run into the hallway where he meets me, grabbing me by my throat and squeezing. He lifts me up from the ground glaring at me while I cannot breathe.

I gasp for air, my little hands pulling at his big hands. It is no use, he is bigger than me, stronger than me, I will die here.

"James!" I hear my aunts voice who lives in a few trailers away from ours. He drops me and I fall to the floor, gasping in the fresh air.

Crying on the floor I look at the wall, and I wonder what I did to make him hate me so much. What did I do to deserve this?

I hear my aunt yelling at my dad in the background before she leaves. Dread sinks into my chest when I hear the screen door close.

"Get up off the fucking floor and go to your room, tell anyone about this and I will kill you." I scramble up from the floor and rush into my room, closing the door behind me. He got rid of the bunk beds a while ago, so I sit on the mattress that is on the floor, grabbing my kitty stuffed animal I got when my tonsils were taken out.

Later that night I hear my mom come home, walking down the hallway to go to her room.

I close my eyes and fall asleep, with a swollen aching throat and my stuffed animal for comfort.