“Everything is going to be alright,” she whispers to herself as she cradles her little arms around her, tasting the salty bitter tears run from her cheeks into her mouth. Daddy had a little too much to drink, screaming and crying momma prevented chaos, her brother blind by fury, and her sister Priscilla crying in the corner along side of her while everything passed. This foreshadowed how her life would be, was she ready for it?
Remembering makes her eyes water, her heart sink, her mouth open in an attempt to breathe, and her fits clutch as she gazes at the ceiling calling out for mercy. This is not an easy tale to tell. Her father, who for as long as she can remember has been an alcoholic. It resulted in a tremendous lack of money which her uneducated mother could not handle. Her brother, unable to help, easily became frustrated and attempted to fight her father. Priscilla who she adored would cry for her father, which ended up leading her to do things to make her feel fulfilled in some sort of way even if it were wrong.
Years passed, yet nothing got better. Hope walked away as I believed I could calmly breathe again. Dad would disappear for weeks; she would scream when she believed there was a homeless in her house -which would turn out to be her father. Mom would wake her up at 3 A.M crying and begging for help. She had to sit there listening to everything, expected to withstand it all, until one day things changed for worse.
She had grown enough to finally get in the face of her father in attempt to protect her mother from another accident. Trembling, she would pump her fist to prevent the tears. Her father screaming in her face to move, she learned to stand her ground.
Eventually, Priscilla got a boyfriend who was just like her father; it terrified her. Nevertheless that boyfriend exploded one night when her sister was pregnant. She got in between them raising her
hands telling him to calm down. He screamed at her threatening that he would beat her; yet she didn’t
move. She would protect Priscilla at all costs. He threw a punch but it landed in the fridge a foot
away from her. Holding her breath, her eyes wide with terror, she longed for someone to save her as
she gently pushed Priscilla away.
This girl still lives with problems, cops have been involved, has slept in the car, and has visited a
shelter. Yes, this girl is me. This is my family, an unwilling part of me.
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