Catch Me

Chapter 10- Daddy's Schedule

I was 11. Mom was long gone...four years ago now. I had entered my own hell where I locked my personality and conscious away inside me, so I could separate my body from my mind. 

My body was going through unimaginable torture up to five times a day. The average was three. Three times a day I would have to feel my dads dirty and rough hands on me. Three times a day his smelly mouth would be on mine. Three times a day he would finish inside me always desperate to make me have one of his children. Even though I was his child. 

I didn't think about it anymore. I knew his schedule like clockwork. He would wake up around 10:00 am. He took me out of the closet and I made him breakfast. After watching him eat it, he would sometimes allow me to finish the rest. If not I waited till lunch where I could hope to grab something before he saw or cared. He had a beer with breakfast and a glass of whiskey when he sat in his arm chair to watch his western films. He did this for a few hours, every so often having me bring him a snack, refill his glass and scratch his hairy back. Around 12:00 pm he would call me to the spare bedroom and that would be the first time for the day. He was always drunk and always took a long time to finish. This meant longer for my mind to be shut away, protected inside layers of my subconscious. After that, he would send me to my closet, usually following me slapping the back of my head telling me he wished I was dead. 

After the first time at 12:00 pm, my day would be a haze. If he decided to let me out before dinner he would let me eat lunch, his scraps of course. If he left me in the closet till dinner, I knew that the second time of that day would happen before he ate around 5:30 pm. He liked being hungry after...he liked "working off some calories" before eating dinner. The second time always hurt the most. He had been drinking all day and was more rough with me, hitting me and holding my face down into the bed. 

Then dinner at 6:00 pm. I had to sit with him at that meal. He made me pray over the meal and thank God for the life that we had. Then I was sent to my closet, maybe after a beating, maybe not. He locked me inside at night, dead-bolting it from the outside...leaving me in darkness. 

I wasn't safe yet though. Night time meant no sleep until the third time came. The third time was usually around 1:00 am. I stayed awake if I was able because I was so afraid that he would come in earlier than I expected and beat me for not being awake and "ready" for him. 

The 1:00 am time was usually simple. He laid behind me and finished quickly if he did at all. Usually he just pulled himself out of me, soft already, and shoved me back into the closet calling me a bitch and a whore and saying I should have died when mother did. The normal things that an 11 year old girl should hear from a parent. 

For eight years I endured this schedule. There was no help. There was no break in the monotony. I never saw a different side of him. I never received a kind word or hug. All I felt was pain and despair. There was never a moment where he seemed to question if what he was doing was right or moral. There was never a glimmer of hesitation in his beady eyes. All that was in his heart was depravity. 

He was truly evil. The only person in my life that had ever deserved that judgement. 

Evil through and through.