The Truth Untold

Retaliation.

Holidays at home, were always a nightmare for Chiara. On the other hand, her siblings were always excited for they always had adventures to look forward to.
Sometimes, to keep herself busy, Chiara would take her siblings for long walks, for there was more peace on the streets, than there was at the house.
Chiara loved to visit her paternal Grandmother Anna.
The previous times that she and Gary spent there, had served well to cancel out some of her bad experiences.
Grandma Anna was a jolly soul and four years ago, at eight years, Chiara was quite happy to be a part of her life.
Like Chiara and Gary, their grandma had not seen their father in years.
"It seems like he has just vanished into thin air!" she would exclaim passionately, at the same time throwing up her hands as if in resignation.
Chiara and Gary's dad was the last of thirteen children.
Her grandma would talk nostalgically of all her children, often with tears in her eyes.
At those times, Chiara thought about confiding in her grandmother, but the fact that she would eventually have to return to that house and would no doubt have to face the consequences, weighed on her decisions.
She would then settle into a silence filled with fear.
Chiara would often think of her father.
Where he was.
How he lived.
Grandma often sympathized with her two grands, claiming that their father's behaviour was shameful and highly disturbing.

Grandma Anna looked and sat like a matriarch. Her house was always well organized and the delicious little treats, made Chiara the happiest little girl around, even though, it was temporary.

From sumptuous baked delicacies to ice cream and mouth watering dishes, Chiara revelled in it all, despite the impending anti climax.

Anti climax it was for after one of those enjoyable vacations, dread, sadness and fear awaited her.
That was on the day after she had sat at the dining table and enjoyed the delicious meal.
After the door had banged open, Mr. Awkward had loomed in the doorway.
He could have barely stood.
The sight was a contrast between hilarious and alarming.

"What on earth are you doing in here?" he slurred.
Chiara had almost gagged from the scent of the alcohol which streamed across the room, from every shower of spittle.
If Mr. Awkward had been born into another surname, it would not have suited him, on that afternoon.
He wore the Awkward surname like a crown as he stumbled into the tiny room, knocking over a vase, lamp and chairs.
Try as he might, his unstable intoxicated limbs refused to acknowledge instructions, from his alcohol soaked brain.

Chiara stood her ground and watched him defiantly. Staring at him, she wondered what was wrong with her mother's thinking.

"What are you staring at?" he growled
"Absolutely nothing!" Chiara responded.
Nevertheless, Mr. Awkward refused to digest the rebuttal.

"Come here!" came the bark.
Still Chiara stood, staring at him defiantly.

Suddenly, Mr. Awkward reached out to grab her, but, his well of drunkenness, made it difficult for him. Chiara darted to one side, looking for an avenue of escape. His frame was still blocking the doorway. Caught up in trying to determine her next move, she did not see Mr. Awkward's hands.
Chiara felt two large hands grappling at her neck, then more firmly as he tried to cut off her air supply.
Chiara kicked out with all her might.
Her tiny delicate fingers, scratching at his face.
That was too much for Mr. Awkward.
His grip loosened.
His features expressed surprise and indignation as he swiped at a trickle of blood which was seeping down his cheeks.

Not certain how her stepfather was hoping to accomplish his feat, especially with his displaced wits, Chiara eased towards the door.

Wham!
The knock on her head sent pain rippling through her body.
Chiara, now hardened to his punishments, stood stock still.
Unfaltering! No tears! Showing no pain!
She began in a clear voice:
" The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want!"
Another slap!
The effect rocked Chiara, but she straightened like a soldier.
With the pain registering on the stormy fringes of her mind she continued:
"I shall not want!"

Mr. Awkward arched his head to survey her.
"You are a crazy ugly child!" he sputtered.
"No. I am not!" Chiara replied courageously, with all the strength she could have mustered.
"You are the crazy, ugly one! You are a monster! I wish my mother had never met you!"

Shock at Chiara's responses, sent Mr. Awkward into action.
Grabbing Chiara, he began to pummel her body.
Cuffs, kicks, obscenities filled her brain.

Enough was Enough!

Chiara began to scream!
She fought, scratched and kicked back with all her might.
Finding himself on the receiving end for the first time, he tried his best to block his face from the tempestuous blows.
One shove from the palm of her hands, sent him crashing into the glass topped center piece.
In his attempt to prevent the fall, he grasped at her mom's brand new reading lamp. It toppled with him. The frame smashing to pieces.
Through tears, Chiara saw him grasping at wind, to support his body.
He looked so funny when he fell back. Chiara giggled through swollen lips.

Limping to the door, Chiara turned the handle and opened it to freedom.
The sight which met her eyes caused her to quake.
For there, entering the porch and struggling with shopping bags, was her mother.
Emma looked up as the door opened.
Her mouth fell open! Eyelids stretched to maximum at the sight of Chiara, battered, torn and swollen.
Speechless, Chiara froze to attention.
Her mind registered the look on her mother's face.

No pity! No questions!
Just an amazing querying look.

Moving slowly past Chiara, she walked to the door.
The loud screech which followed as Emma entered the "war zone" caused  Chiara to develop imaginary wings.

Flying through the yard, Chiara sped on like ten lions were after her.
Escaping through the gates, as another inhumane screech followed by "Chiaaaaaaaaara!"
echoed through the neighbourhood.