Oh god... ----------------- Everyday our father leaves the house for one hour. During that hour it's my responsibility to collect the mail out of the box at the end of our driveway. Just the mail. After I grab it I must hurry back to the house. Once I tried escaping with Elle during that hour. But being in the middle of our road it seemed like eyes were always on us. We didn't make it two houses down before a neighbor, actually one of my father's card buddies, yelled through his window that he'd call our father. So I turned right around and sped home, practically dragging Elle with me. That night our father had his 'merry' band of friends over to play Blackjack. I was always the servant. Rushing to bring more beers, or snacks, or fulfill their urges to hit something. I never allowed Elle to do it. At one point I tripped, and the beer in my hand soaked the player nearest me, our neighbor. I don't think any amount of liquid would have been enough to douse the flames that erupted from him after that. I scampered away towards my room, which did nothing but draw him, as well as my angry father, after me. Excited voices yelled from the room down the hall to "Smack him good" or "Use the belt". I cowered in fear on the top of my bead when a hand clasped my shoulder. I braced for impact, but instead found Elle tumbling into my lap. "It's okay Trevor" she'd say in her innocent voice. No matter how many beatings we'd take, she never understood why it happened. Or even when it was coming. I yearned for that ignorance, as the first lash of the belt snapped against my back. Yelling helped release a bit of the pain. But when you have a drunken brute whipping you faster than you can say "Sorry", and your own father beating your sister right next to you, it's hard to generate any noise. I was paralyzed by the mix of the searing pain from the belt, seeing my sister beaten senseless, and her last screams before she blacked out. It seemed I was always the cause of her punishments. And tonight would be no different, because it was another poker night.
Oh my god Syd. And no Qin :0 ---------------------- The evening dragged on as I listened to the laughs, stories, and curses that flew freely from the intoxicated group playing poker in the living room. Tonight, my father had hurriedly told me right before everyone arrived, that I was to stay hidden in my room. You'd hear no complaints from me. Eventually lack of energy and entertainment won over me and I climbed into bed under my covers. I awoke a couple hours later. Everything seemed quiet, so I decided it was safe to use the bathroom. I got up, still fully dressed. We hadn't had pajamas since my mother last bought them for us. As I passed by our living room, which was now engulfed in darkness, I could have sworn I'd heard faint creaking noises. I shook the feeling and continued down the hall to our bathroom, which was really the size of a closet. As I passed the living room door on my way back to my bedroom, I heard the noise again. Now I knew I wasn't hearing things. I crept into the living room and looked over the edge of the couch, which had been modified and used as a pull-out bed. But instead of seeing my father passed out with a glass half filled with Coke and Jack Daniels, I found him on top of another woman. I made some kind of animal noise filled with mixed emotions; fear, sadness, and anger. I stammered backwards into the wall, knocking down the lamp, which came crashing down to the ground and pierced my ears with the deafening shattering of glass. This was enough to wake my sister, who tottered out of her to me, half asleep. "Trevor you broke the light!" she acknowledged groggily, rubbing her eyes as if she didn't believe what he saw. As the glass shattered, my father finished. He, as well as his broad, were both on their feet, covered by the blanket they each held up. The man pulled on his boxers, which were a surprisingly calm tone of blue for such a troubled man. Then he broke into an angry mumble as he took brisk steps toward us. My sister squealed and ran back to her bedroom, and to my surprise he followed after her. He slammed her door shut and locked it— years ago he'd came up with the idea to buy door knobs with the locks on the outside. Then, as if my worst nightmares had come true he yanked my arm, which had been glued to the wall with the rest of my body, towards him. He led me out into our tiny backyard which was completely fenced in with a privacy fence. We had one tree in our yard, an oak. The same which had been my mother's doom. And that one tree would be my destination for the night. He forcefully took the rope from my pants and shoved me against the tree. He walked behind me, pulled my arms together, and tied them behind the tree. I was now fully trapped, my body shaking with fear. But this punishment was not yet over. Besides his own hands and belt, my father also kept a weeping willow branch he used for punishments. He ripped my shirt open, revealing my pale white skin. After 5 lashings, it was hard to distinguish the skin from the bloody flesh. He then returned back to the house, leaving me crying, battered, and bloody at the base of the tree.
Oh my Jesus .-. Eww. Who would want to have sex with a child abuser? >.< Broad is an odd way to refer to a woman :3 And god, that's terrible. Why does no one call the fuckin' cops? >:|