Bite my Tongue

The Accused

With a smile on my face, I take notes. And though I should be focused on my work, there's only one thing I can think of.

***

School, like yesterday, seemed to take forever. My last period teacher let me leave class early today, allowing me to get home half an hour early.

As I walk up the steps, I can't help but notice Dads truck in the drive. He's not due home until 18:30, so why is he here?

I open the front door slowly, just like how I did last night. No sound comes from the push, and I thank the heavens.

I slip in, slide off my shoes and close the door quietly. Making my way to the kitchen, a board creeks and I mentally curse myself.

"Who's there?" my father demands. Without making any further movement, I look for where his voice came from and find my Dad stepping through the doorway leading to the study.

"It's me, the school let me home early." I say with a shaky voice, looking down at my feet.

"Are you lying to me?" he questions.

"No," I shake my head and look up at him.

"That's funny," he laughs but I know he doesn't mean it in any good way. "You know, Ali, I didn't receive a call from the school." Dad walks up to me, his hand on his waste. "Mind telling me, if they let you go, why they didn't call?"

I glance down at his waste where his hand rests on his belt, then meet his eyes.
"My teacher said I can leave class early, since I finished my class work for today and tomorrow."

"That doesn't explain why they wouldn't call." Dad begins to unbuckle his belt and my shaking becomes worse. He's going to hit me and I know it. "Ali, you know how much I dislike liars." I nod my head, though I know I'm not lying. "Then you will understand why I have to do this. You need to know it's not okay to lie to me."

"But I'm not-" the words escape my mouth but before I could finish, he whips my cheek.

"Here you are," he whips my shoulder, "still lying." He chuckles as he whips my side.
"Do you not understand yet?" he whips my side twice again, his belt slashing through my sides.

"I promise I'm not lying, Father." Tears drip down my face silently as I protest.

"I don't see why you feel the need to lie. Now turn around," I listen and do as he asks, earning myself another three lashes. "If you flinch or pull away, you get another ten." His words are harsh yet calm as he begins to whip me even more.

The tears pour down, but I don't make any movement though I so badly wish to. The pain surges through my body and I know there will be marks, and bad ones at that...

Another three lashes and I'm done. I brace them, having counted 42 already. 45 in total.

Dad presses his hand on my back and pushes me forward, causing me to fall. "Get dinner started now!" He shouts. "I expect there to be food on the table at 16:10." With that, he walked down the hall and back into the study.

The tears that were once spilling down my cheeks have came to a stop as they became dry. I wipe my hand under my eyes, stand up and hold the wall as I brace myself to walk.

Pain rushes through me, my back ripping as the new cuts tear. I place my hand on my side only to return it soaked in blood.
I touch my face with my other hand and see that it is also bleeding. With seeing this, there's no need to check my back. That's where he hit me the most, so I known it's bleeding.

I need to clean it, I need to clean all of them. But Father won't allow me to until after supper and after I finish cleaning the house.

I want to clean myself up but I can't, so I suppose I'll just start on cooking.