Whack! With another swing, the black belt came down hard upon Sarah's mother's fragile body. Sarah curled herself up into the corner of the bare, dark room and closed her eyes, wishing herself to not be there. Her gigantic father stood over her mother like a dark shadow, glaring down at her menacingly, twisting the brutal belt in his massive hands.
'You fucking whore! You think you can fucking go out with out telling me?' he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. Sarah's mother just stared at him with scared, wide eyes. Not even tears fell from her eyes. She seemed almost completely removed from her welted and bruised body. Sarah's father aimed a hard kick at her, 'Go fucking drink yourself to death you and whore out your body you piece of trash, it's no use to me anyway.' he growled at her as he stormed from the room. As an 11 year old girl, I had witnessed my father's cruel acts of violence on my mother for many years.
Sometimes in his enraged state, if he saw me, I would also get abused from his dreaded belt, but mostly he just made me watch mum get abused. Every whack of the belt broke my soul even more. I hid in the shadows at night, and when morning came I longed for the time would he would go to his job as a police officer.
'Honey, would you be able to go and get me some scotch and one of my pills? My body aches, and I need it.' I nodded my consent, and went into my room where mum hid her pills and alcohol. I prepared it all for her, and after I had delivered it I crawled into my bed and left mum to sleep on the couch.
Sunlight hit my tired eyes, and my ears were wakened by the guttural sound of him shouting at mum. 'You think you're so fucking clever, you slut. You know what fucking happens to clever people, they fucking get belted!' Whack! The belt striked.
The sound seemed to echo, then was followed by the distressed cry of my mother. He muttered something, then I heard the door slam shut and he was gone. I slowly went downstairs, and found mum lying on the tattered couch.
When she saw me she gave me a wan smile, 'Would you be able to go and get me a pill, love?' she murmured 'my head feels awful, and it's the only thing that relieves it.' I nodded quietly, and trudged my way back up the stairs into my room, under the bed in a chest. After I had done that for mum, I got ready for school and out the door I went into the thing I knew as my sanctity. The end of school came, and I went to the lolly shop with Caitlin, trying to avoid home at all costs.
We hung around outside of the shop for a while, munching on rare delights, talking occasionally. As dusk began to fall I made my slow way back home. The door clicked behind me, and as I walked down the hallway, for once, I was met by silence.
As I turned into the living room, I saw him sitting rigidly in the armchair. I stiffened.
'Where have you been?' he asked quietly I almost moaned from fear. 'A-at the lolly shop,' was my scared reply.
'With anyone?' I shook my head, not wanting to drag Caitlin into this. I finally realised that mum wasn't here. 'Where's mum?' He sighed, and looked down briefly. 'She got herself all fucking drugged up and is now staying with your grandmother.' I nodded once, fear taking a hold of me. I couldn't live with him alone. I knew he would beat me tonight, and the next and the next. 'Come and sit with me.' he said.
I numbly walked over to him and sat on the couch. 'Your mum's an alcoholic and a slut. She won't be back for a while.' I didn't understand what he was doing, he never spoke to me.
In one movement he stood, 'I'm going to bed' he said 'because you're the only girl in this house you will sleep with me, like your mother should do. Come up soon.' Then he was gone. Not wanting to make him angry, I followed him after a few minutes. As I entered the room he was lying there in the bed 'You have to sleep naked.' he said. I wanted to protest, for it seemed wrong, but knew better than to argue and, in turn, anger him. I took of my school dress and stood there, not knowing what I was to do.
He grunted, then rolled over and turned out the light.
Silently, I climbed into the bed and shut my eyes. To my shock, he soon rolled over and started to speak. 'Do you know why daddy gets so angry?' I said no. 'It's because daddy's need to be milked sometimes, otherwise they get mad.
Your mother should milk me, but she doesn't.
Do you want me to be angry all the time?' I said no again. He grunted.
'Then you'll have to do it,' was his reply. With that, he took my hand and pulled it towards something hard and, with his hand over mine, he started to move it up and down. Eventually he moved his hand away.
After a few minutes he began to stiffen 'Don't stop,' he rasped, and soon my hand was covered in warm, gooey stuff. He groaned, then rolled over. The milking became a nightly occurence, and I kept doing it as long as it prevented him from beating me. (Want part two?)