Through the Eyes of a Child

Grace May

The front door slammed shut as I cowered in the corner of the small closet I live in. Ever since Mom died, my room was moved to the hallway closet. I couldn't complain, at least it was walk in, with a lock on it. Well, on the outside of the door.

My names Grace May. I'm fifteen years old and have those kind of eyes that change color every so often. My hair is blond with brown streaks running through it. They aren't very dark, and if I were to have friends, nobody would really notice it. I live in Miami, Florida with my father. It's very nice here, the sun is always shinning through summer and the winter has its perks.

Small side note, my mother died when I was nine in a car crash. The whole event really messed me up, considering I was still very much of a child at the time. But I'd say the person who was really effected the most was my father. I'm reminded it every day as he hits or kicks or does whatever the alcohol is his veins convinces him is okay.

It seems that this abuse goes on constantly. I rarely ever eat anymore, most of the time it's his fault, others it's the bruises that prevent me from doing much of anything. Well, the bruises from him. My only true safe heaven is when he's away at work during the day. He seems very dedicated to it, as if buying and selling businesses with a huge corporation is the only thing that truly matters to him. Honestly, I wouldn't doubt it if it was the only thing that mattered to him, with the way he treats me. Sometimes, I like to sit and compare him to the man he was when Mommy was around and the man he is now...

He's a monster now.

Someone like him doesn't deserve the job of a father. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's given up the very thought of being one to me now. So I choose not even to call him that, though it is a bad habit. I simply call him by his first name; Jack. And sometimes I think that's what I'll call him forever. But then I go right back to call him Daddy. I'd blame it on his mood swings, sometimes the crazy in him gets out. And sometimes he's just the simple, fun loving guy everybody just adored.

My father.

You'll get used to it, man, you'll even love him again. And then, as though God is playing some sick twisted game, it's as though a flip is switched. Then, he's back to the man who's heart is stone cold. It's a simple cycle, everybody has a daily one they go through everyday. Most kids would wake up, get ready, attend school. Then they'd come home, do their homework, eat their dinner with a lovely family only to go back to sleep and have the process repeat again in the morning. I suppose I'm not normal, far from that. I don't attend school anymore, that's something that should be brought up first. Father never liked to drive me around, bring me anywhere outside the house.

I'm a disappointment to him.

But that's alright. But my life is a simple cycle of wake up, pain, hope for better only to get that hope crushed soon after it was grown, and then spend countless hours away at night, dreading the daily hours to come. Repeat. It's such a normal cycle that's been running non stop for three years, the pain has just been another feeling I feel throughout the day. Just another throbbing in a spot that can never truly heal.

Even the sound of thumping footsteps coming down the hallway to find me has become a normal feeling, heart racing, palms sweating, normal. Suddenly, the door flew open. Wait a second. It wasn't very suddenly. In my heart, I wished it was. But in my brain, I knew it wasn't. Slowly, I raised my shaking head to look at him, the man that created to destroy me My father.

"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie, have you been hiding here all day," he smirked, watching me shake in fear, admiring the bruises from the night before. And the night before that. And the night before that.

"You know how much I hate your stupid games."

I take back all I said about becoming used to the daily pain. In a life with Jack May, something new is always waiting around the corner.

And it seemed as though I was about to experience a new daily type of pain.

Oh joy.