All That's Not Written

Prologue

“They’re screaming again.” She looked up at me with her tear rimmed blue eyes.

“I know honey. It’ll be over soon. It always is.”

“I’m scared. I don’t want to get hit again.”

“You won’t Dee.” I told her, knowing I would protect her again. But we both knew, even Detree at her young age, that her abuse would come. In one way. It seemed like lately there wasn’t a single thing we could do to keep from getting harmed. But he knew. He knew better than to touch our faces or any other part that was visible around summer clothes.

“Has he been drinking again?” Detree whisperd to me.

“No.” I lied. I was doing a lot of that since the accident. The yelling subsided and it was silent for a few seconds. Then we heard the footsteps. They stopped right outside my bedroom door. Detree whimpered.

“Shh. You know that only makes things worse.” I said, trying to relax her. In all honesty, there was no point. When a six year old girl knows one of us is about to get beaten, how is she suppose to relax?

The door knob shook and so did Dee.

“Open this damn door right now Kathleen! Do you hear me?”

I set Dee down and went to open the door, then stepped aside immediately.

“No which one of you little shits is in for it today?”

“Me” I lied. This was about the third time in a row covering up for Dee. She still had to watch it, but it was better than getting hit herself.

“I thought it was you last time!”

“No sir. I promise.” I said in the most convincing tone I could muster considering my voice was shaking.

“Okay then.” He said, a minikel grin on his face as he punched me in the gut.

Detree screamed under her breath and I sent her a look telling her to be quiet or she would be the one getting hurt.He then proceeded to push me down on the ground, where he sat on top of me. I was suffocating under his weight. The flask of whisky emerged from his back pocket.

"Here. Since you two think I'm a drunk, YOU drink it!" We had never made comments like that around him or to anyone who would tell him. He liked to mess arounf though. It was all part of his sick game. He poured the whole thing down my throat. I was either forced to drink it, or choke. I went with the default. After a few more elbows to my abdomen, he got off me.

It didn’t last as long as it normally does. He must have taken out all his energy on yelling at Ty.

As he was walking out, he turned to wave at us. “Good night girls.”

“Good night dad.” We said in unison, tears streaming down both our faces.