A Starting Point

CHAPTER FOUR- THE MONSTER IN MY ROOM

Davies

"Please, Daddy! Please don't break!"

He didn't hear me. Why wouldn't he listen to me?

"I break you in place. Do you want?"

I denied. Didn't want to get caught. My back was hurting and my jaw was still red.

He stank. It was sour and resembled sweaty urine. That's what monsters smelled like.

Mister Mitchell didn't smell like that. He smelled of fabric softener and coffee. Yesterday, he left a package hidden in the corner of the fence. I knew what it was. They were pieces of cake that his wife made. I shared them with my mom and she cried as she ate. Maybe it wasn't the flavor she liked, either way, she ate more than one piece.

Now I was watching my dad take my turbo buggy and step on top of it. It felt like a giant, crushing my cart.

"I hate you!" - I thought.

God, I thought aloud!

My dad looked at me with wide eyes. The monster had fire coming out of its eyes and its mouth was open wanting to devour me. He took the belt off his pants and I felt something wet mine. I was peeing and I hated myself. It was more of a job for my mother. I didn't like to work for her.

When the first strap hit my legs, I felt the ground under my knees.

"Forgive me, Daddy," I yelled, my face and pants feeling wet. - "It hurts. For! For! For!" I yelled as loud as I could.

"You'll learn to respect me."

"Do not do that. Arrives!" my mother shouted.

She approached quickly, still limping.

He continued. Why wouldn't he listen?

My mother wrapped me in her arms and we held each other, crying, as if we were a ball that made sound. I heard all the blows that landed on her back. I knew it hurt. She was crying with her mouth open, making a noise like a wounded animal.

My mouth trembled and I started to vomit. Now my mom would have to clean up my pee and vomit. I hated myself.

"Forgive me, Mommy."

"God, I can't take this anymore," she said, and then he stopped.

I saw over my mother's shoulder that he was breathing fast. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Afterwards, he threw the toothpick at her back.

"Congratulations, Davies! Thanks to you, your mother was beaten. Just like me, you hurt others too," he spat. "You are despicable, Davies... you cause pain."

My mother continued to hug me. She swiped her thumb across my mouth, wiping away the last of the vomit.

"Mom... I... I..."

"Don't talk, just keep holding me." He took a deep breath. "We need to leave, I just don't know how. I need to figure this out."

She moved and sat on the floor. I knew she was in pain. My mother's face said it.

"Let's go, Mom, please!"

"I'm trying, Davies. But where would I get the money?"

"Mr Mitchell can help."

"I don't want to involve other people in this. They can harm themselves because of us."

"But he said he wants to help."

"We'll talk about it later, dear. Come. I'll give you a shower and clean this up."

She moaned as she stood up and I knew it would be the same for me. It helped me and it hurt when the water fell on my skin.

I didn't want to eat. She put me to sleep. I was so tired. No one told me that being eight years old was exhausting. Nobody told me that being a kid meant facing monsters every day.