Chapter Four (Not Complete)

                August 19

           Dad hit me today. Okay, he did a lot more than hit me.

           I don’t have much time before somebody’s coming to

           pick me up and get me the hell out of here before he

           goes psycho again, so I’ll make this quick. He

           backhanded me a few times, shoved me on the floor,

           kicked me around and then"this is when I shiver

           writing this"he whipped my back bloody with that

           goddamn belt he loves so much. It’s black with a huge

           silver buckle… He pounded me with the buckle, too…

           S**t, he’s coming down the hall"

 

Then it stopped abruptly. It was barely noticeable, but I could see the crinkled lines in the paper where it lay on the floor for a while when he had thrown it across the room after reading it and left it lying there while he hurled insults at me like punches. The entry was dated August 19, but didn’t tell the year. That wasn’t needed; I remembered exactly the year it happened… I was thirteen the first time my father severely beat me. I read the entry repeatedly, living that horrible experience again before flipping the page and positioning the pen in my hand.

 

                           November 10

           It turned out my father held his word for once and actually saw

           Dr. Alman to see if medication was an option for his “anger issues.”

           Turns out, it is. So now he’s taking Risperdone in the morning and

           night to “stabilize his mood swings.” Apparently, it’s not an anger

           management problem like we thought; it was Bipolar.  But that’s what

           the Risperdone is for, to stabilize him. I guess we’ll see.

 

For once, I found myself writing in my journal, something that had been sitting under my mattress, untouched, for a year. There were only about 10 entries, even though a couple years back my new year’s resolution was to write in a journal every day. Just like a lot of things, it didn’t happen.

 

At the moment I was waiting for Varen to pick me up; we were going to hang out at a dance club in downtown that was a popular teenage hangout called The Bob. I’d dressed up, which was rare. I was wearing my best pair of jeans and a bright blue, tight tank top that made my eyes pop; on my feet were heels that I was sure would make me break my neck before the sun came up. I even put makeup on. It was extremely rare to see me with makeup on, much less with foundation, concealer, and the rest of the works.

 

A knock on the door made me giggle nervously and prance down the stairs, almost falling in the stupid heels. I paused to nervously smooth down my hair and dress before opening the door. I smiled widely and said, “Varen! We’re going to have fun toni"“

 

I stopped when I noticed the man standing in my threshold wasn’t Varen. He had long dark brown hair that went to his chest, and he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with shorts, even though it was no more than 40 degrees outside. Smiling politely, I closed the door a little ways so I was peeking out of the crack and said, my cheeks red, “Sorry. I thought you were somebody I’m expecting.”

 

“Mhm. Can I come in? I need to speak to your father, Mr. Madoline.”

 

“Magdolin. I’ll get him.” I replied, noticing the smell of pot and alcohol wafting off this weird man that I was starting to get a bad vibe off. I tried to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in the crack.

 

“I asked to come in. You’re not going to be a rude schoolgirl and leave me out here in the cold wearing this, are you?” He flashed me a smile that strangely reminded me of a pedophile’s mugshot I had seen on the news.

 

I hesitated for a split second, torn between what I wanted to do and what the right thing to do; slam the door on his damned foot, or let him in and leave him alone while I got my father? I decided to stall, even though I didn’t know why.

 

“Can I ask who you are in case he asks who’s making him up at eleven at night after he’s been working all day?” My patience had disappeared as soon as he called me a schoolgirl.

 

“I don’t think that matters. Let me in and go get him, please.” His voice turned icy and his eyes hard. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could speak, a red Mustang pulled into my driveway. He heard it too andf turned around. He got an annoyed look on his face as I said excitedly, “That’s who I’m expecting.”

 

Varen stepped out of his car, and suddenly I felt majorly overdressed. He was just in a blackl long-sleeve and a pair of ratty yet stylish black jeans, with a (naturally) black knit hat on his head. He had in black studs for his snakebites and gages, and his black hair was styled to one side in an emo haircut. He looked downright sexy.

 

“Hey, Raven.” He said nonchalantly as he strutted up to the porch. “You look... Wow.”

 

Blushing, I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. I stepped past the pedophile guy and gave Varen a hug. His shirt was soft and his smell made me shiver.

 

“You cold?” He asked softly, unlocking his car with a key fob and saying, “Go ahead and get in.”

 

I shook my head. “This weirdo here wants to talk to my father. I don’t trust him. He won’t let me go inside to get him unless he comes in too, and he called me a schoolgirl. He’s pissing me off.” I rolled my eyes and shot a sidelong look at the long-haired guy.

 

Varen’s eyes narrowed and he looked pissed off. I really couldn’t blame him, what with the way the pedo guy was running his eyes up and down me as if I were a piece of meat. I wanted to slap his perverted smile off his face.

“Go ahead and get your father... I’ll stay in the kitchen or something with him.” I nodded and opened the door again, walking in and letting Varen in, the pedo last. I gave him a hard look, which he returned, as he came through the door. He took a long inhale and let it out in a huff. I heard him murmur to Varen, “She’s not too bad. You two banged the gong yet?”

 

I blushed furiously and quickened my steps, banging on my father’s door. “Dad! Some idiotic pervert wants to see you. He won’t say who he is. Be out in three minutes or I’m kicking him the hell out of our house. He’s pissing me off!” I kicked the door for good measure, and, fuming, stomped down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen, I pulled a chair up next to Varen and sat down; we both were facing the pedo, as if we were two cops questioning him. Varen was staring at him intensely. I put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Chill, dude. He’s probably a pothead; not worth the stress. You want something to eat?” I deliberately kept my eyes on Varen, pretending Pothead wasn’t there.

“Mmm, what do you have?”

 

“Cereal and I can make some sandwiches or something…”

 

“Nah. I want to get out of here. You think you father’s going to get out here, or should we kick him out and leave?”

 

“I’ll go get him again. Try not to punch this guy.” I went up the stairs again, not bothering to knock as I barged into my father’s room and kicked the bed he was sleeping on.

 

“Mmrrr…?”

 

“Dad, you need to come downstairs. It’s an emergency.”

 

The tone in my voice�"I was a great faker�"caused him to get up from the bed and head out the door before I could even turn around to follow him. I quickly went down the stairs after him, and he was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his eyebrow quirked at Varen. “You look nice.”

 

Varen smiled stiffly. “Thank you. Do you know this guy? He won’t tell us who he is and he wants to see you.”