My Name is Misty

Chapter 3

That car wreck would wreak havoc on me for the next several years of my life.

They say that my dad did not suffer, that he died instantly. They say my mom was taken to the hospital, to give birth, to not one, but 2 still born sons, Michael, and the unnamed, as momma did not know she was having twins. They say I wouldn't stop crying. They say it was a drunk driver, who also died instantly when the two cars collided. Me, I don't remember anything up until waking up in the hospital, and my grandmother was sitting in the chair beside the bed.

My grandmother, explained to me about the accident, about my daddy going to heaven, along with Michael, and the unnamed, or as my grandmother, called the unnamed Micah. She said that way Micah would have a name that God and daddy could call him. She said that mommy was really sad and that it was not a good idea to see her right now.

I went home with my grandmother 3 days later. They said that my mother was suffering from depression, and not sure when I would return home to her. Six months later, I went home to my mother. The house was not as I remembered it. Daddy always liked a clean house. It always smelled like fruit. Peaches or Apples and Cinnamon. However, this is not the house that I remembered. There were dishes everywhere, and it smelled. Smelled of cigarettes and a sour smell, later to be known as whiskey.

My mom was not my mom anymore. I looked at her and she looked so much skinnier. Skinnier than before she got pregnant with Michael, and the unnamed. Her eyes were sunken in, dark circles under her eyes, and the light that used to be in them were gone. When she looked at me, it was like she was looking through me, not at me, she didn't see me at all. There were men in and out of the house. I lay in bed listening to my mom making weird noises from her room when the men were there. Was the kindhearted, loving mother, gone? 

She used to sing in the shower every morning, however, now I never even hear the shower running. There used to be cookies and candy and cakes in the kitchen and snacks for me and any guests that came over, now only to be replaced with beer bottles and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, and whatever her and the men decided to throw on the counters, now causing bugs to be all over the kitchen. She used to cook breakfast almost every day, but now, even the fridge had hardly anything in it, what food was in there, was old and smelled bad. The best that could sometimes be found is stale bread, with little mold pieces that I could pick off, or maybe some crackers with peanut butter.

My mother barely noticed I was there, unless, I spoke to her, asking for food, or if I cried. She told me crying would not get me anywhere in life, and I needed to suck it up, and grow up, and shut up. If I even mentioned daddy, she would slap me and then go to her room and shut the door, sometimes for days. I made the mistake of mentioning my dad to her in front of one of the regular guys that came into our home, which made him take notice of me. He told me to come sit on his lap and tell him about my dad. I just stood there looking at him, and my mother grabbed me by my hair and yanked me over to him and said I was always, always to do what I was told, to never disrespect , or make them wait, when an adult told me to do something.

I sat on his lap, uncomfortably, like I was told and told him all about my dad. I mentioned the forts we build, the picnics we went on, all while my mother sat there tears streaming down her face. Then she started doing something with a spoon with liquid in it, and the needle and putting it in her arm. She asked if I wanted some, it would take the pain away. I told her no, needles hurt, she just laughed at me and said I had no idea what hurt was, as her eyes rolled back in her head and she leaned back, looking very relaxed.

I felt a movement underneath my butt, as the man bounced me up and down, and I tried to move, and felt like something was poking me, the man grabbed my arms and said to keep moving just like that and started pushing me down harder on the thing that was poking me, making a strange groaning sound. I even told the man something was poking me, and he just laughed, so I jumped down and ran to my room, because that hurt. I peeked out of my room just in time to see the man slap my mom to wake her up and tell her to open her mouth to take care of what his daughter had done to him. I peeked around the corner, to see my mother glaring at me. 

She opened her mouth and then he stood up in front of her, and I could see now that his pants were down around his ankles, facing away from me. I couldn't see what they were doing, it looked like he was rocking back and forth in front of my mom, and he was moaning. I could see that he had grabbed the back of her head and was pushing it to him, and then jerking her back by her hair, over and over. He was making weird grunting sounds, calling her a slut and telling her to suck him dry. Then he made a sound like a wild animal, as I scurried to my room. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but this was only the beginning of things to come.