need be. I wonder if I’ll ever have my own prince charming. Probably not.
My thoughts always end up back to the now, my dreams and ambitions crushed by the simple acknowledgment of my situation.
I calculate in my head that I have about two hours before he musters the energy to approach me with another instruction. What would it be this time, washing, tidying, a beating? I don’t know until that time, but I just pray for once he will just take too much of those stupid drugs that he uses like oxygen, and leave this world like my mother had. I even wish she was still here, looking after me and keeping me safe like all the other kids' mums did.
I turn my music up a little to stop the noises from downstairs as I hear a woman’s voice enter the house. I know the things my father does to them; It is only a matter of time before I will have to bear witness to his behaviour.
“ABBI” I hear his voice shout from downstairs and I immediately tense knowing what is about to happen. I bolt from my bed to get to him as quick as possible because even if he’s intent on hurting me, it will be far less painful if I go to him than him having to seek me out.
I rush the stairs down, nearly slipping a few times as my socks glide against the built up grime.
I swing into the lounge, looking to my father. “Get her out,” he spits, pointing to a naked woman lying on the floor. She is in a crumpled heap, her hair knotted and sprawled across her shoulders and face. She rests her head against the floor, barely moving. A glass lay smashed on the floor by her, shards stuck in her and the carpet. I flinch as I see a little blood coating a shard of the shattered tumbler.
“Okay,” I say to him as I rush to her aid. “Come on lady; let’s get you out and safe.” I whisper as quietly as I can so my father doesn’t hear.
She groans in pain as I roll her over to see her face. Her lip is split, a bruise quickly shadowing her cheek and eye socket. Her eyelid is swollen and forcing her eye closed. “Ouch,” I say, knowing the pain she has endured; I have suffered through it myself on more than one occasion.
“She needs water dad,” I tell him, as he snorts the remaining line of cocaine on the table.
“She can have fuck all. Get her out now, Abigail.” I shake my head slightly as I turn back round to face her fluttering eye, the one that isn’t fused together by the swollen flesh around it.
“You need to try lady, try and stand so you can get away from here,” I whisper to her again, trying my hardest to sit her up. She is dead weight on me, my tiny child frame struggling to support hers, even as thin and bony as she is, she still weighs a ton.
“Ergh.” She speaks dozily. “Drink,” she says to me and I look as my father walks to us.
He grabs her hair and pulls her to her feet, resulting in me falling back onto the floor. I gasp in horror as he begins to drag her from the room, her feet score the carpet as she digs in, trying to break away from his beastly clasp. “Dad, you’re hurting her, stop,” I tell him as I run after him.
“Stay out of it bitch,” he spits at me as he yanks the door open. He pulls her so she is straight-backed and then slams her into the wall of the hall. His hands grip dangerously firm around her throat, her one good eye beginning to pop a little, blood rushing to the surface. Her hands reach up and grip his wrists, clawing at his skin as she struggles to keep consciousness. “Get your filthy ass out and don’t come back. I’ve had enough of you, you dirty whore.”
She nods into his hand, trying to breathe. Her gasps for air, imprinted into my memory that second. “You understand?” he asks her bitterly as he squeezes just a little harder. She nods harder, almost unconscious in his grasp. “Good,” he smiles nastily as he lifts her up from the ground and slings her forcefully through the front door.
I cringe hard as I hear her body connect with the pavement outside. I look past my dad
My thoughts always end up back to the now, my dreams and ambitions crushed by the simple acknowledgment of my situation.
I calculate in my head that I have about two hours before he musters the energy to approach me with another instruction. What would it be this time, washing, tidying, a beating? I don’t know until that time, but I just pray for once he will just take too much of those stupid drugs that he uses like oxygen, and leave this world like my mother had. I even wish she was still here, looking after me and keeping me safe like all the other kids' mums did.
I turn my music up a little to stop the noises from downstairs as I hear a woman’s voice enter the house. I know the things my father does to them; It is only a matter of time before I will have to bear witness to his behaviour.
“ABBI” I hear his voice shout from downstairs and I immediately tense knowing what is about to happen. I bolt from my bed to get to him as quick as possible because even if he’s intent on hurting me, it will be far less painful if I go to him than him having to seek me out.
I rush the stairs down, nearly slipping a few times as my socks glide against the built up grime.
I swing into the lounge, looking to my father. “Get her out,” he spits, pointing to a naked woman lying on the floor. She is in a crumpled heap, her hair knotted and sprawled across her shoulders and face. She rests her head against the floor, barely moving. A glass lay smashed on the floor by her, shards stuck in her and the carpet. I flinch as I see a little blood coating a shard of the shattered tumbler.
“Okay,” I say to him as I rush to her aid. “Come on lady; let’s get you out and safe.” I whisper as quietly as I can so my father doesn’t hear.
She groans in pain as I roll her over to see her face. Her lip is split, a bruise quickly shadowing her cheek and eye socket. Her eyelid is swollen and forcing her eye closed. “Ouch,” I say, knowing the pain she has endured; I have suffered through it myself on more than one occasion.
“She needs water dad,” I tell him, as he snorts the remaining line of cocaine on the table.
“She can have fuck all. Get her out now, Abigail.” I shake my head slightly as I turn back round to face her fluttering eye, the one that isn’t fused together by the swollen flesh around it.
“You need to try lady, try and stand so you can get away from here,” I whisper to her again, trying my hardest to sit her up. She is dead weight on me, my tiny child frame struggling to support hers, even as thin and bony as she is, she still weighs a ton.
“Ergh.” She speaks dozily. “Drink,” she says to me and I look as my father walks to us.
He grabs her hair and pulls her to her feet, resulting in me falling back onto the floor. I gasp in horror as he begins to drag her from the room, her feet score the carpet as she digs in, trying to break away from his beastly clasp. “Dad, you’re hurting her, stop,” I tell him as I run after him.
“Stay out of it bitch,” he spits at me as he yanks the door open. He pulls her so she is straight-backed and then slams her into the wall of the hall. His hands grip dangerously firm around her throat, her one good eye beginning to pop a little, blood rushing to the surface. Her hands reach up and grip his wrists, clawing at his skin as she struggles to keep consciousness. “Get your filthy ass out and don’t come back. I’ve had enough of you, you dirty whore.”
She nods into his hand, trying to breathe. Her gasps for air, imprinted into my memory that second. “You understand?” he asks her bitterly as he squeezes just a little harder. She nods harder, almost unconscious in his grasp. “Good,” he smiles nastily as he lifts her up from the ground and slings her forcefully through the front door.
I cringe hard as I hear her body connect with the pavement outside. I look past my dad
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