Sinner

Mother went out to the bar at about five-thirty that night. Every part of me hurt, even sitting. 

 

     After I took a quick bath, I waited in silence on the couch for mother come home. I had a lot of time to think. I wasn't sure what happened to me, or why I was in so much pain. I took out the picture from my dress pocket, and examined the photo.

     I was baffled as to why the old man was in my dreams. I had never met him before, and I didn't even know what his purpose was in my thoughts. I stared at the photo in complete silence for hours. I couldn't think about anything else. If I thought about the pain, I would hurt again. If I thought about my life, I would cry again. I didn't want to cry, and I didn't want the pain, so I stared motionless at the photo.

 

     My mother came home at about eleven o'clock that same night. I didn't flinch when the door slammed, or when her footsteps noisily smacked across the wood flooring like a hammer against a nail.

     Her pace stopped while passing the living room. I should've ducked and coward away from her, but my body sat immobile. I kept my eyes straight forward on the image, half awake or half asleep, I couldn't tell. My eyelids were becoming heavy against each other, and I came to realize that mother hadn't moved since she stopped behind the couch.

 

     I twisted my body to face her, and was greeted with a backhand to the right side of my temple. I fell against the couch and stayed against the rough cushions until I heard my mother's slurred command, "Get up, Hussy. You're just going to be another s**t on the streets.." She fell forward against the couch and caught herself from landing on top of me.

 

     I sat up and twisted my body once again to face my mother. I couldn't stand up, even the thought made me want to scream. I was in too much pain, and I had finally gotten used to the soreness from sitting on the sofa.

    

     "I said... Stand up!" Mother reached down for my hair. Her coordination threw her off and she missed my entire head. I had enough time to stand up and rush into my room. The pain in my abdomen had caused me to fall onto my bed and sob into my pillowcase.

     I heard clunky footsteps following the path to my bedroom, and I hid under my blanket with anxiety taking over. My sobbing had slowed and eventually I calmed down when I heard my mother's door slam shut.

 

     I couldn't sleep. My eyes were tired, and my head was on fire, but I wouldn't let myself sleep. I remembered the last time I had fallen asleep, and the pain that I endured after.

     I thought about my mother's comment on me having been a "hussy". I was not a hussy, and I knew it. I knew that hussys were the women that stood on the corners of bars and through themselves at any willing man. How could I have been compared to such people?

     At last, I had fallen asleep. It took hours of staring at a crevice in the ceiling to make me drift off into the damned state of mind called dreaming.

 

 

    I woke up with my head heavy and aflame. I couldn't breathe properly, and I decided not to leave my room. It didn't take my mother long to decide when she would grace me with her presence.

     She walked into my room with slow and gradual movements. I didn't dare get up from my bed, so I stayed huddled with my blanket on my bed.

 

     "So... I see you have been snooping around in my room, huh?" She walked to the end of my bed and sat gently against the mattress. The movement of the bed made me flinch in pain. I couldn't tell whether or not she was trying to cause me torment or if she was just innocently sitting down. I sided with the first guess.

 

    "Uh..No ma'am. I would never-" I was silenced with a convulsive cough that made me fall forward. I looked down into my hands and saw yellow mucus sitting in my palms.

     "You are a lier," My mother's shrill voice said, knocking me out of my shock. I had forgotten for a second that I was even having a conversation with her. I was too absorbed in the fact that I just coughed up an unnatural color of spit. I had always been affraid of being beaten to death, but now I had to worry about rotting from the inside out.

 

     I kept quiet after she spoke. She liked it when I was quiet.

     "Do you know where liers go, Belle?" Of course I knew the answer. We used to make an appearancce at church when I was younger. We stopped going, but I still remember the preacher's booming voice echoing through my head. "Uh.. no ma'am...I don't."

 

     "They go to hell, Belle, and do you know where the hussys go?" I shook my head, "They go to hell with the liers." I sat in silence, watching her eyes burrow holes into mine. It went from a quiet, and decently pleasant conversation to something scary in less than a second.

     "I know what you did, Belle..." My thoughts were only thinking of that torn picture I had stolen. I didn't know what else I could've done wrong. "...You brought that man into this house to harm me."

     "What man, mother?"

    

     I felt the sharp pain from my abdomen attack me again. I fell forward with another pain shooting through my neck. I realized it was my mother's nails digging into the skin of my neck. I was quickly pinned against my pillow with my mother holding me in place with her sewing pin fingers tight around my throat.

 

     "You brought that man into this house, Belle. Look what he did to me! Do you enjoy seeing your mother beaten like this? Damn you, Devil Child! Damn you! Your father had the right idea leavin' you!" I didn't have enough time to flinch away before I was thrown to the floor and repeatedly kicked in the ribs.

     Each blow felt like a train had hit me in my chest. I started to cough again, and I turned onto my side to stop further attack on my front. I chocked on my spit again, and saw another puddle of yellow laying underneath my face.

 

    "Mama! Please, stop! I'm sick, I need help-" I was silenced with a kick to my face. The crimson blood that filled my mouth fell to the floor in slow dropplets. I searched for something to cower under or use for defense, but my room was empty of such things.

 

     After a few more minutes of pure hell, mother stopped hurting me and sat back down on my bed. I couldn't move any muscle in my entire body. Everything had become blurry, and everytime I breathed in air, I would have a spasm attack. When I coughed, I would scream out loud.

 

     "Now, what are you not going to do again, Belle?" I couldn't feel my mouth, and for a second I had forgotten how to speak. I felt my mother lean down to my ear, "I asked you a question." My answer came out in short spurs of breath, with pain shooting through my entire body, "Not.. bring men...home."

 

     "Good girl. Now, get cleaned up. I'm tired of hearing that cough. I'm going to take you to one of my favorite doctors."

 

     I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had never been to a doctor before. Mother would never take that chance of showing what she really does to me. I wasn't about to disobey her again, so I made myself go into the bathroom and clean the blood off me.

 

     I stumbled into the kitchen, waiting for mother to arrive. I couldn't stand up straight, so I chose on sitting down at the table. It took my mother a long while to clean herself up and put on makeup to hide the bruises.

     She walked into the kitchen with fresh clothing. I almost couldn't recognize her. She had never look so clean before. She always wore ratty clothes and didn't take baths unless she absolutely had to.

 

     "The doctor's name is Dr. Henry Crow. He likes special children, like you."

Author's Note

I haven't gone through and edited the spelling errors and etc. yet. I will as soon as I have time, but I wanted to get this posted as soon as possible.

Reviews

[Kenny L. Mitchell]

Hmmm...me likey!

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

This chapter tugs at the heart. Although sad, you still wrote with the detail of watching it unfold on screen. This chapter packs a punch.

[Coyote Poetry]

Poor girl had no fair change. I believe world was very terrible for young girls with no protection in the early 1900 's. My Grandmother would say things about her youth. Like whispers from bad dreams. She was a orphan and had a very hard early life. The story is powerful and very sad. A very strong chapter.
Coyote

[A.Lee]

Wow... This is so painful to read and so heart-wrenching... and so addicting. You do such a good job of making me hate the mother from the bottom of my heart. And now I'm anticipating what this "doctor" is and I'm afraid for the girl. How sad. You have an excellent style. I loved this line in the beginning "her footsteps noisily smacked across the wood flooring like a hammer against a nail." Very vivid imagery and sound there. Excellent work.

[Tina Kline]

Talk about human monsters. Poor girl. I'm just wondering if her mother is taking her to a real doctor or just saying she going to take her to a doctor so the girl will coming willingly to where ever nightmare place the mother really plans on taking her. I'll just have to wait and find out. Great chapter here.

[Desert Dreamer]

Very well written story about abuse...I had a difficult time reading because I get emotional about this kind of thing, but you definitely have the beginnings of a page turner.

[Livana Lowell]

Noooooo!!!! I knew this would happen! I feared it so!!!!! Omg, this is so good!! I'm addicted. Please post more!!!!!!! I beg you. I have no suggestions here, but I loved this. I couldn't stop gasping and was ready to cry.