The Beast: First Attack (Chicken Skin)

A piece of my beloved childhood.

I remember the first time the beast was released upon me, it happened before i gained the ability to suppress memories and emotions. I was helping bring in the groceries to our blue doll house surrounded by humungous hedges, and I could smell the fresh rotisserie chicken as I climbed the mountainous steps. As my brother and I finished loading the groceries onto the towering a table; as i was not even 3 to 4 feet tall and he even younger and smaller. I climbed onto the the chair with much effort and then with a triumphant grin I began to peel off the lid to attack this gloriously roasted chicken. As the smell hit my face my grin grew face splitting and my eyes closed and my stomach growled in desperation. I inhaled, and before I knew it the delicious skin from the chicken was gone and then my hunger from all day ceased, I hadn't eaten lunch that day. I heard my little brother attempting to climb the chair to my right, the smile and look of desire, for this amazing smelling chicken faded as he realized i had already eaten all of it from the top. I, finding a good solution, began to flip the chicken over with my tiny clumsy hands revealing more. Before I could finish flipping the hot chicken i heard a roar, a noise that shocked and awoke every nerve ending in my body and i was frozen in fear.

I couldn’t move or react, I couldn't even turn my head away from my brother. He was not only scared but i saw the traumatization crawl across  his face as he look through me, behind me. As I began to turn around I was stopped by gravity shoving my face into the white tile of the kitchen floor. I could see my DNA staining the floor. As i get up i slip on the red mark with my hand and hit the floor again by my own doing, hitting the floor releasing more of my salty, metallic fluid from my nose filling the white tiles in red. My scalp heats then shoots pain as the beast drags me through the kitchen and in the hallway she let's go momentarily, letting my instincts take over I take the chance to run. I dash through her legs toward my room trying not to bump anything in the narrow hallway, as she may beat me harder if I knock down a picture or nicknack. I turn to close the door but she back hands me before I can fully turn around. Knock me to the ground, I cry out on impact, the first noise I've made since we unloaded the groceries. My ears ring, over the ring I can hear my brother crying hysterically telling her to stop. She closes the door on him, and all I can think is "Thank god!" I can't have him watch this, watch me vulnerable, scared and crying. I am his strong big sister, I must be strong for him and take it so he can have a normal childhood, so he can be happy.

My thoughts are interrupted by my mother for a beast shouting for me to shut the f**k up already, and to stop being a baby. The kick she sends to my side can't begin to sting as much as the thoughts of why she would do this to a child, her child. I take a total of three brutal kicks to the ribs, as I hold my head trying to stifle my cries, the last thing I want to do is anger her more. She stops. Snorts. Then leaves as if I am the one in the wrong, before she closes the door she tells me "think twice before I don't leave my brother any skin on the chicken." There was some on the underside...She closes the door with another snort. I relaxed, got up with several winces and reached up to lock the door. I layed back in the spot she left me in, under my tall lamp, the lamp that would have to pick up my brother to turn on and off. I cry, cry until I fall into a heavy sleep my last thought being “Why?.” I sleep restlessly unable to awake from a nightmare reenacting the beating that I totally deserved.

Author's Note

Please give feedback on how to improve! Thank you!

Reviews

[Danielle Anatomyy]

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. My recommendations to you, from a publisher's standpoint, is to write out your numbers, and capitalize. I know those basic rules like using comas, semi colons, punctuation, etcetera, may seem a bit low grade, but through the eyes of a reader they are key components. Your detail was nice, and the word you were trying to get across, inspiration. Please continue, as I would like to read your further uploaded work.