The Summer of a Lifetime

chapter 27

And anyways, I'm sure it was just a one time thing.

Boy, I couldn't have been any more wrong.

Every day after that he would hit me for some stupid reason. Every time my mom was at work, or away on business, I would get hit. This went on for weeks on end.

I didn't tell anyone though, I couldn't tell anyone. If I did, they would tell the cops or something and the marriage would fail and it would be all my fault.

So I kept it a secret.

But one night, I had just walked in from the sandlot, when he hit me for some idiotic reason.

But this time, it was different. He punched me directly in the eye, and I held onto my face, groaning slightly.

He grabbed my wrist tightly.

"Please let go," I muttered, pain shouting through my wrist.

He let go alright, but in the process he threw me onto the ground.

I cried myself to sleep that night, an ice pack over my eye as I winced in pain.

That next morning, I got ready to go to the sandlot, when I looked at myself in the mirror.

There was no way I could cover up the enormous black bruise on my eye, so I would have to lie.

I walked to the baseball diamond, nervously walking in.

Maybe they won't notice right away, I thought to myself as I found my spot.

But right when they all saw me, they crowded around me.

"What happened?" Andrew was the first to speak, giving me a worried glance as he stared at my eye.

"I just fell and hit the corner of the table," I shrugged.

They all watched me skeptically, but with a lot of convincing, they left it alone and we played.

Andrew kept looking over at me suspiciously, but I ignored it and continued playing.

After a day that seemed to drag on, we finished and Andrew ran towards me.

"Hey, seriously, what actually happened to your eye?" He asked, "You get in a fight or something?"

You have no idea.

"No I didn't get in a fight. I already told you guys what happened," I told him shrugging. 

"Tell me what really happened," he said, grabbing my arm and turning around.

I couldn't help but involuntarily wince as he grabbed my arm right where Bill had.

He gave me a worried glance, then picked up my hand, looking at it.

The bruise was rather defined, and I realized only then how hard he'd gripped my wrist yesterday.

"Olivia, tell me the truth. What happened?"

"I did tell you the truth!" I suddenly became angry, but I knew I was more angry at myself, "I guess I hit my wrist too, alright? Just leave it alone!" I dashed home and cried in my bed.

More weeks passed, and more abuse came. I cried almost every night as I went to sleep, and all of my friends continued to ask me what happened when I played baseball and had bruises, but every time I would lie.

All of my friends were suspicious, but I simply distanced myself slightly so they could just not worry about it.

One night, I had just gotten back from playing baseball.

As usual, Bill was there as I walked in.

"Where have you been?" He asked angrily.

"Where I am everyday. Playing baseball," I muttered, already agitated.

"Why can't you find a more feminine thing to do. You're just a little tomboy no one likes," he said, taunting me.

I only glared back.

"None of those boys will ever love you. They only think of you as a little stupid boy. I'm surprised Andrew even allows you to come over to his house," he said, still teasing me.

"He doesn't love you," he said again, and I felt the tears streaming down my face.

As he kicked and punched me, I couldn't help but think that I deserved it.

"He doesn't love you," he continued to repeat, then would kick or punch me.

The physical pain was no match for the emotional pain. So I simply laid there, taking all the pain I deserved.