I couldn't see her face but I could essentially feel the triumphant rage thumping through the air. There was a ringing in my ear and before I could gather my thoughts to defend myself I was thrown to the floor. "You have been nothing but a disappointing abomination. You are not worthy of existing and today I will make you feel all the pain you have caused me all these years."
I had no time to recover from being thrown to the ground before another part of my body lit up with pain. My mother was playing soccer and I was the ball. Kick after kick rained down everywhere, some more painful than others.
One minute, two, then three, passed and still the kicks continued in near silence except for a few grunts from Sue-Ann. I was used to this; having been beaten so brutally, in the past, that I had been forced to stay home from school. I can't remember when it had started but it happened often enough that by the time, I was 9 years old I had learned the unwritten rules of these encounters with my mother.
The louder I was, the longer it went on; the quieter I was, the stronger the blows. I had learned to protect myself, by creating a place in my mind where I heard and saw everything but felt nothing. I would hiss in pain at the appropriate times, and cried at others, solely for my mother's benefit. It seemed like forever but, after almost 5 minutes, Sue-Ann grew tired.
With one final kick, she hauled me up and shoved me to the sink. "Clean this shit up and quickly!" she yelled.
I could barely move but I knew that if I didn't do as I was told there would be another beating. That one probably wouldn't stop until I was dead. I began washing the dishes, moving gingerly as I tried to minimize the pain coursing through my body. I was acutely aware that my mother was watching closely with a happy smile on her face. She was always like this after giving me a beating.
For whatever reason she seemed to enjoy inflicting as much pain as possible on me. A few moments later, her footsteps drifted away. The house was deathly quiet as if it was holding its breath; waiting for the next shoe to drop.
I drew a small breath and let the tears fall from my eyes as I took note of the pain radiating from my body. My stomach felt as though it had been turned inside out and my breathing was painful but I was careful to not make a sound. As soon as I was done washing the dishes, I quietly eased
my way up the stairs.
Chanting a prayer silently hoping that I would make it to my room without running into anyone. I didn't want to see their looks of glee. Not that I could see much. My face had begun to swell and it was forcing my left eye shut.
By some miracle, I made it to the top of the stairs without incident. I was almost to my room when the unexpected happened…
I heard my father talking to my mother. I had always been a daddy's girl; at least up until two years ago. It was right after another anatomy test, in the lab of hell, that the look in his eyes had changed. After that day, he looked at me as though I was nothing more than an annoyance. It hadn't bothered me too much at first because I was sure that he would forgive me for whatever I had done to upset him.