Hi, I am Jane Doe. The mysterious girl that the police officer found at the bottom of the lake with no identification, and this is my story. The real truth about me.
"Would you shut up already? You're such a little brat! I don't understand how your parents deal with you." Miss Shelly said as she ties the dish towel around my throat just a little to tightly. "Sit down in your seat and eat what is put in front of you."
I sat down and ate the cold, bitter grits that were in front of me, I didn't say a word as I slowly ate the disgusting food. I tried to loosen the towel around my neck, slowly pulling it down and then realising it as soon as Miss Shelly looked over. The boy next to me started crying because his grits were cold, I tried to stop him, but I was too late, Miss Shelly already had the belt in her hand and was coming towards us with an awful glare on her face.
"Please, Miss Shelly, don't hurt him. He's new and hasn't learned yet, you can put me in the closet instead." I hear my small quivering voice say as i stand up in defense of the little boy.
"I'll just punish both of you, you little miss sunshine are a chatter box and a worthless piece of...."
"Mother! You do not talk to children that way!" Miss Jess interrupts, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth she gets a slap across the face with the belt Miss Shelly was holding. She looks at her mother with disappointment in her eyes and then grabs my hand and walks out of the kitchen."I am sorry..." Miss Jess chokes out between the sobs she is trying to hold back, slowly one tear after the other slips down her cheek. My little hand reaches up and pushes her face into a smile, smiling at her and trying to give her some modicum of hope.
"It will be all right Miss Jess, I will take the blame, you didn't do anything." I said to the teen ager before. I was very old for my age, being beaten made one grow up.
Miss Jess was sixteen, but she had just lost her father, her parents had been divorced for a long time, but her mother hated him. He was a very nice man, he loved his daughter and would stand between his wife and daughter so that his wife wouldn't beat her as a child, but she hated that. This morning Jess found out that her father had been murdered and she knew her mother had done it, but there was no proof.
Miss Jess looked at me, she saw my determination, the same determination that got me in trouble every day. She knew her mother was sick, but she didn't know how to help her, and none of the children that she hurt ever said anything about what she did to us. Jess stood up from her crouched position and took my hand and lead me back into the kitchen where Miss Shelly was seething with anger.
"You never know when to shut up do you?" Miss Shelly asks me, but making it more of a statement. "You try to help the children, try to stop their crying and when they don't you take the punishment. Why? You know you are worthless and know one would care if you just disappeared. So why don't you stop standing up for others, you won't be beaten as much."
"I can take what you say and do to me, but they can't, so leave them alone." I said, trying to be brave, I mean for a three year old I was being very brave and intellectual.
"Shut up you little *****, I don't want to hear another word from you." She exclaimed and stomped out of the kitchen.
"Thanks," Miss Jess said as she took our bowls away and heated them up and adding some sugar before handing them back to us.
I never realized how often I took the beating for someone else, I felt that I was stronger than the others, and I guess in a way I was. Jess tried to act strong, but she was crumbling, her defenses were breaking and she wouldn't be able to handle this any more. I looked at the clock, watching as the minutes ticked by, only three hours left to endure.
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I sat on a blanket in the family room, I watched the clock, waiting for the woman I knew was coming down the stairs. I knew she was going to yell and say that we were all worthless, good for nothing children and that we never listened, disobeying her because we weren't napping and being quite.
Just as the minute hand reached the three and the hour hand reached the two, I heard the heavy footsteps descending the stairs, the door flung open and just as I predicted she started yelling at the children. I knew she eventually grab me and beat me because I was the one that kept them awake with my annoying voice, trying to sing them to sleep. She used the belt that was hanging by the doorway, beating me in front of the other children, making sure that she didn't hit my face or arms or legs, she didn't want the parents wondering why I had marks all over my body. Last time I went home with a black eye they wondered what happened and I told them I fell down the stairs and landed on a toy car. They believed me because both Miss Shelly and Miss Jess agreed with my story. It wasn't a total lie, I had fallen down the stairs, but because Miss Shelly pushed me, and then she back handed me across the face for being so clumsy.
The belt stung my back as the leather connected with bare skin, my shirt in tatters from the repetitive beating. I never understand why she does it, but like I said before I could take it. I stood her beating me for almost five minutes then I felt warm liquid coming from the fresh sores on my back, the blood was dripping off my back when the monster with the belt told me o go to her daughter and get cleaned up. I didn't hear any crying other than my own, so I knew that Miss Shelly wasn't beating anyone else, which was good.
By the time I was cleaned up it was time to go home, I knew that I would be the last one to leave, I always was. I was surprised when my dad came to get me, he never came, he was always at work. He picked me up and smiled at me as he hugged me tight, I was careful to hide the wince that he induced when he hugged me. No matter what had happened at day care I always was able to leave that there, the only thing that went with me was the pain.
Author's Note:
This story is based off a true story, please remember that child abuse is painful and it haunts that child for the rest of their days. Enjoy the book.
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YOU ARE READING
The Truth about Me
Non-FictionEveryone thinks they know me so well, just wait tell you really know who I am, will you still be my friend then.