Chapter Three
The next year or so were less eventful. Mostly the same thing repeating itself. Mom and dad fighting when he would stop by. Mom and her friends from work. Mom and her mob friends. Me, the invisible child, unless she needed to yell at someone, or that rare moment when she felt motherly and wanted to feel good about herself. That however was only when she had a person over she felt she had to impress. But more and more it seemed I was just in the way and a bother.
Then when I was around nine my dad found out I was home alone almost all the time. So he took it upon himself to be the parent in the so called family. He would come stumbling in an hour or so every night after mom would leave for work. It was almost as if he was watching the apartments so he would know when she would be gone. He always smelled of beer and Brute after shave. I had been taking care of myself for two years and NOW he finds out and wants to be a "dad". Why??
When he would come over in the past it would be long enough to cause a fight, knock us around a bit, then leave. The last time he visited it took a while for my mom's and my bruises to go away. He would always make sure to leave them where no one would see them unless we were unclothed. I didnt need him then and I didn't need him now. I wish he would have stayed away. But he didn't give me a choice in the matter and mom didn't know. I doubt she would have stopped him even if she did know. She never stopped him from coming in when she knew he was coming. Why would she stop him even if she wasn't there and he was coming? Then again, why didn't he want her to know? Why was he sneaking and waiting until she was gone before coming? Why not tell her he was going to? Why??
His first night stumbling in, he brought pizza with him. He stank of beer and Brute aftershave. But I was thankful for the pizza. Still hot with the cheese still gooey and stringy. It even had the thick, buttery, crusty, baked on cheesy crust. My favorite kind. I don't know how he knew that, or if he just took a lucky guess, but either way it was really good. He even bought me my very own hairbrush. It was round and pink and had thick black bristles all the way around it. First gift he ever gave me. He would use it to brush my hair dry after I would take a bath. I would sit in the floor in front of the chair he was sitting in and watch Mayberry as he brushed my hair.
All these years of him being a mean drunk, all the worry of why he was doing this now, were gone. I finally had a parent that was showing me loving care. A hot meal every night I didn't have to make myself, and messes I didn't have to clean from where it was made. A person that made sure I was fed, clean, and home safe. I was really feeling like a happy kid.
Weeks of this happy feeling even had me more cheerful at school. My teacher even noticed the change in me. She told me it was good to see me so happy and smiling more. Life was finally being as it should for a kid my age. Then the darkness started showing itself again.
A kid my age didn't know about the saying, "its too good to be true", until now. He came in one evening already angry about something. I didn't know what, but it must have been something big as mad as he was. He was yelling and slamming stuff around. He threw a happy meal at me and told me to eat. He called me an ungrateful little brat. Then he took the lid off the drink and dumped it over my head. I wanted to cry, but I knew from the past that if I did it would just give him pleasure and he would do more. I knew if I didn't cry or say anything he would go onto something else because he wasn't getting the response he so wanted. I forgot though that in the past I wasn't there alone with him. I forgot he had my mom to move on to. Now it was just me. When he didn't get a response now, he only had me to keep going at until he got one. Not just any one, but the one he wanted.
I went to clean the drink off my face with a towel and he grabbed me by my face. He squeezed it so hard I thought my teeth would pop out. Then he stuck his face in mine as he squeezed and screamed at me so loud my ears rang. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. It burned into my nose until it became a memory I will never forget. Then in one big sweeping motion, he picked me up by my face and threw me against the kitchen counter. I hit so hard I could see stars. Before I could see clearly he had already picked me up again and had me raised high into the air. I couldn't help it, I was crying and didn't even know I was until he was screaming at me and calling me a cry baby brat. He was shaking me hard like I was made of rags and he was trying to wring them out or something. Then he threw me to the ground and went slamming and cussing out the door.
I just sat there for the longest time unable to move. I was trying to figure out what just happened and why. Then I ran to the door and locked it and chained it so he could not get in if he came back. After I got the door locked I went into the kitchen and cleaned the mess. I had to hide the broken things in the trash and hoped my mom wouldn't notice they were missing. I hurt all over and moving was painful and it was hard to breath. Tears continued to fall even though I tried not to cry, but they had a mind of their own and fell because of the pain. I have never felt this much pain before.
When I went to undress and take a bath I saw in the long mirror a bruise that covered one whole side of my body and almost half of my belly. I had them down both arms and some on my face in the shape of his handprints from where he picked me up by it. Then I cried on purpose, and hard, because I was scared again.
How was I going to hide this from my mom? How was she going to react when she saw it all? What more would she do to me because of it? After my bath I went to my room and grabbed my favorite stuffed animal and just dreamed of packing them all into a big bag and running away. After all, I may not know how much money was hidden in them, but I knew it was a lot.
I wanted to leave so badly and get away from all of this that I started crying again. I had never cried so much before in my life. I must have cried myself to sleep because the next thing I remembered was my mom yelling as she tried to get in and couldn't because I had the door chained. Dang it, I guess I was going to find out sooner than I thought about how she would react to the bruises.
I thought for sure she would have already had it beaten down as hard as she was hitting it. I could barely move and it seemed to have taken forever to get to it and unchain it. She was yelling even louder and very mad by the time I got there. When I got the chain off I jumped back so I wouldn't get hit by the door as she flung it open. She was yelling at me hard as she was shutting the door. Then she turned around and stopped mid scream and just stared at me with her mouth wide open. For a moment I didn't understand why then I remembered my face.
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