28th March 1960, Monday, 10:00pm
"PUSH! PUSH!" the midwife screamed trying to get louder than my mum.
My mum felt wrong. She felt like something wrong was happening in her womb.
"Oh no" she had heard the midwife say.
"HELP! I NEED HELP!" The midwife, once again, screamed. Several nurses came dashing into the room, took one look at my mum, and exchanged glances of panic.
"N-Narcissa. Come on. Hold on. You can do it." My father exclaimed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, my mum was practically crying in pain.
"No, no." The midwife said, looking worried.
"WHAT?!?!" My dad screeched
"The baby..."
"WHAT? FUCKING WHAT? TELL ME!"
"The baby is going to come out..."
"WELL NAHHHHHHH"
"Legs first"
Silence fell upon the room, you could hear conversations from miles away.
"That means..." My dad began.
"Yeah..." The midwife replied with.
"We'll do the best that we can".
10:23pm. At 10:23pm, on the 28th March, 1960, I was born. At 10:23pm, on the 28th March, 1960, my mum died. At 10:23pm, on the 28th March 1960, my dad became a whole new person.
28th March 1967,Tuesday, 5:27pm
"So youuuu like-like what you g-got?" My dad said, in an attempt to act sober. I picked up the card which was obviously written by one of his sluts. 'To Molly, happy 5th birthday'. I was turning 7, and my name is Maria.
"Yeah...great." I had said, a bit too much in a sarcastic tone.
"YOU LIKE IT OR YOU CAN G-GET SENT TO BED"
"Sorry dad"
"YOU BETTER BE"
He then decided to throw a metal fork at me. The sharp side hit my lip, great a new cut to get judged by at people from school. I'm thankful that he was only a few feet away from me.
23rd March 1971, Tuesday, 9:01pm
I was always use to my dad abusing me, but not like this, it's never been like this before.
"Honey I'm homeEeeEeeEee" my dad screeched from the top of his lungs. I heard him run upstairs and sprint into my room. He threw my Cyclops book on the floor.
"HEY! I WAS READING THAT" I screamed.
"That's no way to talk to me young lady" he started "you deserve to be punished" he ended with. I was used to this. I didn't really care if he was gonna hit me anymore. He got close to my face, our noses were nearly touching. I could smell the red bull and vodka. It was disgusting.
"Ugh, go ahead, hit me" I exclaimed. He laughed. Which made me giggle a bit because he has never laughed about anything I had said. He then kissed me, not like a goodbye kiss on your child's first day at school. No. This was passionate. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I slapped him.
"WHAT WAS THAT FOR" my dad said.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT WAS FOR" I said, stating the obvious.
"So much punishment is needed now" he replied with.
"W-what" I stuttered.
He began to make me uncomfortable in any way possible. He did everything, and I mean everything I didn't want to do. I felt dirty, but I knew it wasn't my fault. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to be an orphan. I kept quiet, for weeks, months.
-Ecka Vassey
