Broken

Chapter 1

I was cooking dinner for my "lovely" family. I was cooking some sort of meat, I don't remember. I just remember the TV buzzing about the news in the background. I stirred the pot of... collard greens, I think? I don't know. My memories are blurring together into an endless sea of negativity.

My mom was sitting in the living room, trying to distract my younger sister from the racket upstairs. I knew dad was angry. I was just scared about what would happen. That's when I heard the front door unlock and swing open. I knew it was my brother, most likely drunk. I gripped the spatula tighter as I poked the meat. My brother, Andrew B. Cornelius walked through the kitchen door and gave me a look.

"Where's Dad?"

"I wouldn't go upstairs, if that's what you're asking."

Andrew swore (I'll leave out those words.). "*! He's home already?!"

"He left work early."

Andrew gave me a concerned look, making me think that maybe he wasn't drunk.

"Look at me, Beth."

I ignored him. Andrew was obviously not drunk, because he laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Did he..."

I didn't look at him. He twisted my face around. My eye was swollen and turned black and blue. Andrew swore again and I punched his arm.

"Keep it down, will you?! Momma doesn't know yet, and she won't know as long as you keep it down!"

"Wait, you aren't going to tell her?!"

I slammed down the spatula and wagged my finger in his face.

"She has enough on her plate. If she asks, I'll just say I got hit with a baseball during P.E. today. It's very believable, I swear."

Andrew didn't look impressed but didn't say any more. The "concerned brotherly love" only went so far, as I have discovered. Andrew left the kitchen and went into the living room with my mom and sister. While they were relaxing, I slaved over a hot stove and set the table to my father's liking. I called everyone in for dinner as I moved all the pots to the table. My mom hugged and kissed me, all while giving me the "we will discuss the black eye later" look. She gave me a tight smile.

"Where is your father?"

"Here."

My father stomped into the kitchen and inspected the table. He looked at me with pure hate and contempt.

"Where are the rolls?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. "We didn't have any."

I could practically FEEL his anger boiling over. He grabbed my mom by the shirt collar and yanked her up.

"Why is there no rolls?! I SAID TO GET ROLLS!"

My dear mom calmly said, "The store was cleaned out of bread. The baker wasn't going to make more until tomorrow. I'm sorry, dear."

My father practically threw her back into her seat. He plopped down in his chair and grumbled about the bread, somehow containing the anger he always expressed. My sister took my mom's hand.

"Let's pray!"

My dad glared at her. "No. I'm too hungry to pray."

My poor little sister still couldn't fathom her father being mean. It was beyond her comprehension. She kept a firm look at her dad.

"God wants us to pray. I don't want to eat unblessed food! Please, Daddy?"

He lost it. "DON'T EVER CALL ME 'DADDY' EVER AGAIN! WE ARE NOT PRAYING!"

My sister trembled and started crying.

"NO CRYING! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!"

My mom stood. "Weston, please..."

"SHUT UP, WOMAN! OR I'LL BEAT YOU BOTH!"

Our dinner was ruined, I already knew. I knew my dad would try to beat little Cassandra, my sister. Then my mom would stand up for her, but get beaten. Then Cassie's bottom would get hit until she couldn't sit for a week. It always happened, and none of us had the guts to tell anyone. I always thought of telling a teacher, especially when they did those seminars on how to stop bullying, but I was always too scared. Here's one thing you should drill in your head, "Bethany is broken."

I couldn't watch this. I couldn't stand this. I, Beth Cornelius, was going to stop this. I stood up. All eyes went on me. I froze as my dad's burning stare fried my brain's circuits. I melted back down into my chair and sulked down at my food while my mom, my dear, loving, gentle mom, got beat.

We all managed to get out of that alive and hungry. My dad threw another tantrum and broke the table and all that was on it, which resulted into the other four of us cleaning it up. Andrew left, and I figured he wouldn't come back for a while.

Little did I know that that dinner would be the last time I would see him.

My mom came up to tuck in Cassie, who was on pain meds because of her spanking. My darling mom came in to tell me goodnight. She sat on my bed. I was on the floor, doodling while listening to the radio.

"Beth, he hit you."

I managed to glance up at my mother, who was bleeding from cuts on her face. I stifled a whimper.

"Momma... I can't live like this," I explained.

My mom gave me a slight smile that was twisted up with pain and sadness.

"We don't have a choice," she whispered.

"Yes we do. Can't we just leave?"

"He'll find us. Don't you think I've tried to leave, baby girl? I tried every time I had a child. I didn't try with Cassie because I gave up. Beth, dear, I can't leave."

I slouched and finished my arm that I doodled. It had a razor that was connected to the skin, forcing blood to pump from the bodiless human. I had honestly thought about this many times, but I was a scaredy cat and I was too scared of the pain. My mom glanced down at it.

"Bethany..."

"Dad throws out all my other art."

My mom stood. "Good night, Beth."

She kissed me and left. I watched her leave. I knew, deep down that she truly cared. I knew that she would do something about this, but something was stopping her. Don't ask me, I have no idea what it is. It didn't matter anyway. Looking back on this conversation and day, it's so irrelevant and pointless. But, at the time, I didn't know what lied ahead for me and my unfortunate life.

I went to bed at 7:30. I never did my homework; my teachers didn't care. I was tired, anyway. That day had been rough and exhausting. I crashed and dreamt about beatings and death.