A Monster Called Daddy

I hate him. I hate him, I hate him I HATE HIM!!!!

Running away was going to be a very difficult task. My clothes, my shoes, food, water, a shelter...they were all located beyond the clear glass curtain covered door. A door that once led to a place that I used to call home. I knew in front of that door was a big sign. A big invisible sign that read "Beware of monster, proceed at your own risk."

'Dammit! Dammit, dammit DAMMIT!' I thought. There was no way. I was stuck. I couldn't go back home, I couldn't runaway. How stupid am I? What was I thinking? Where would I run to? "Nowhere that's where." He said. It was a thought in my head, but I could swear I heard him say it. Laughing. Mocking me. Waiting at home for my arrival. Waiting at home with that belt. Just waiting to give the lashes.

Maybe I should go home. Maybe he wouldn't notice me. Maybe my mom would be back from work so she could stand up for me. I start to think realistically of what would actually happen.

(Imagining)

I walk to my front door and quietly climb up three cement steps. I quietly turn the knob to the door being sure to make no sound whatsoever, for fear that he would hear me. Damn. It's locked. I remember that my mom keeps spear keys under the mat, so I move the mat that ironically says 'welcome to our loving home' take the keys and proceed to open the door.

My hands are shaking as I try my hardest to keep quiet while unlocking the doorknob. I open the door with great luck. He's not there. I let out a sigh of relief, and slowly but steady head up to my room to grab some clothes, and shoes.

I climb up the first flight of stairs and as I turn the corner to climb up the next flight my worst nightmare comes to life. His evil dirt brown eyes meet with my frightened pale green eyes. 'RUN!' I think to myself. But before I can he gets me. Pulls me by the hair. I'm twisting my head in every which way trying to get him to release his rough hands from the grip of my long strands of dark brown hair. It hurts. I have never felt worse pain in my life, and I would rather have slashes from his black leather belt than get my skull dislocated. "YOU IDIOT!" He yells. "DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT TO COME BACK?!" And with that, and by inability to get his grip loose from my hair he pulls me into the living room. His belt is laying on the couch, just waiting to leave scars on my pasty skin. He proceeds to take it and gives me ten brutal strikes, before letting me go. He uses this method where I have to keep count of the number of strikes he gives me or he would just go on forever.

"YOU'RE GETTIN TEN, AND IF YOU DON'T COUNT THEN YOU'RE GETTIN TEN THOUSAND." He'd inform me.

So I would do what I was told, and count.

SLAAAAAAAASHHH!!!!


"O-o-one...." I'd cry out, awaiting the next.

SLAAAAAAAAASSSHH!

"T-t-tttwo...." I bawled.


SLAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHH!!


"T-t-t-ttthreee. I-I-I'm s-sorry p-p-pplease stop!" I'd wail.

"THE HELL DID YOU SAY? ARE YOU TRYNA TALK BACK TO YOUR FATHER! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT!"


SLAAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!!!"

"F-f-fffour." I'd cry in defeat.
Each slash hurting more than the next because he always aimed for the exact same spot.

Sometimes when he was really angry, after beatings I'd find chunks of skin missing, and swollen red patches of flesh left in their place.

At times I wouldn't want to count anymore, because counting made the beatings seem all that more enjoyable for him. As the numbers would get higher and higher the enjoyment in eyes would grow more and more. Like he was mocking me. And he was.

Once the beating was over he'd make me apologize for what I did wrong and it was almost the same reason every time.

"Sir I'm sorry for not greeting you this morning." I would force out from my wounded body, while on my knees looking down at the ground. Wishing for nothing more than to be dead.

In all honesty I did greet him. And he knew it too. Every morning I was ordered to say 'Good morning sir, how are you? And I did. But if I didn't to it the exact way he wanted he would ignore me, and come back later only to bring his belt out ready to strike me for not greeting him.

(Back to reality)

Thinking of what could happen gave me no courage to go back home to grab all of my things. I'm done. I'm running away. Even if I wasn't prepared.

I took a twig from the ground and wrote in the dirt 'I'm sorry mom  -Jennifer'. With that I proceeded to walk along the path filled with twigs, grass, dirt, and bugs. I was stupid. An 'idiot' as he would put it. I was walking to nowhere.

 

Awww chucks. I'll update some more today hopefully.

 

Sorry it's taking a while for the next update. I've been sorta busy lately,and I sorta kinda also have writer's block. I promise I'll be sure to update soon! Thanks for your patience!