Lies My Parents Told Me

Chapter Two

Sang

A few weeks before I turned 15 my 'mother' was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I was never told the specifics, but I was given a detailed meal plan to follow, a list of times and medications and a reminder that my chores would still need to be completed before school and before bed. The medication made a lot of things worse. She would sweat through her clothes and need to be showered; in the bathroom she would hit out at me pulling me down into the hot bath water by my hair if I wasn't meeting her needs quick enough. She would slap out at me when I was near but the punishments for not helping her were enough to send cold shivers up my spine. He took over a majority of my punishments when he was home. Shortly after her diagnosis he was promoted. This meant business trips to encourage other medical companies to buy whatever he was selling. His mask was impressive he could be charming when he wanted but so infrequently was this charm employed at home it was hard to remember that the expressionless face that stood over me holding the belt could possibly be a functional member of the community. He rarely smiled. I was grateful for that. My punishments never took me to urgent care, but it had been close. She had used the switch my legs were raw, and I gasped out "stop" as her hand went to fall again. He was over me in a flash, my teeth rattled with the force of the slap across my cheek. My head hit into the sideboard I had been standing near. Sticky hot blood seeped into my right eye causing me to squint. My head was swimming, static flitting across my vision. I didn't feel the air shift that meant a hand was coming towards me a second time. This hand forced me to my knees.

"Turn" a command I couldn't disobey. On my hands and knees, I turned towards him.

"Look at me" he growled. I raised my head trying to blink the blood out of my eye, the movement made me want to vomit. A close-lipped smile graced his mouth as his boot sank into my stomach. I hit back into the wall with no where to go. The excruciating pain in my head and the pain radiating across my abdomen caused me to vomit up my school lunch. I had a thought about carrots as the boot came down again hitting my side. My kidneys ached my back felt like it would explode. His hands gripped my hair. As the smile split his face I blacked out.

I woke up on my mattress covered in vomit. My head felt like it was in a vice, dried blood crusted my face. My right eye was crusted shut the blood pulling at my eyelashes as I tried to open them. I rolled off my mattress and tried to crawl to my knees it took everything in me not to vomit again. My back ached, every breathe felt like knives and the pressure in my head made me want to stab something into my skull just to relieve it. Steadying myself on my knees I drove the heels of my palms into my temples trying to relieve some of the pressure. It felt like hours before I was able to crawl into the bathroom. I held myself up on the counter wetting some toilet paper to wipe off all the blood. With my head over the toilet, I brought up the tiny bit of food I had left and my stomach and throat burnt with the acidic bile. The vomiting caused my lungs to burn every cough brought up more acid I felt like I was drowning. I tried to breathe in, but my chest was being crushed. I know now this was an anxiety attack but at the time I was sure I was dying. I peed blood for four days. It was more than a week before I could walk without wanting to pass out. A concussion, cracked ribs, and bruised kidneys. Diagnosed by a library medical textbook, the reading of which was awful all the little letters made me eyes ache and spawned migraines which lasted hours.

I never wanted to give him a reason to smile again. No refusing requests, no sticking up for myself. So, when he came to me with large moving boxes and told me to pack, I took them without question and got to work.

Charleston, South Carolina was our destination. A specialist was here that she needed to see, and he was moving for work at least that's what was parroted to the school when he unenrolled us. The school uniform was returned. My books taken from my hands and placed back onto shelves where they could afford another student the escape they so desperately sought. The car ride was terrifying. I didn't speak for the entire trip. No book in my hands, my head lowered so I didn't accrue any punishments. I was the picture of demure. Marie fiddled with her phone, texting her friends, and commiserating the fact she would start her senior year with no friends in a new state. I just hoped I could survive the next year.

The new house was nice. It was on a quiet cul-de-sac in a new development area. We passed several houses under construction and a couple of empty lots with for sale signs standing guard. We were moving into an established house, it had to be less than a decade old judging by the style, but the yard was tidy. It was partially fenced with a shed in the backyard and a small gate that led into a small, forested area behind the development. It was still three weeks before summer break started, and I hoped that I would be allowed to disappear into the trees once my chores were done. In Illinois I lived close enough to the public library to spend my summer days curled up in a chair devouring books, appearing home just in time to complete my chores and cook dinner. If this pattern was to repeat, I would be able to hide in the woods and just breathe for a few hours.

The house was two stories. The first floor held an entry, lounge, kitchen, dining room, sunroom, laundry, small powder room, and a spare bedroom. The second floor hosted the main bedroom, ensuite walk in robe pretty typical, two smaller bedrooms with a three-way bathroom between them. The house was smaller than I was used to which was a relief. I was used to cleaning a house much bigger and had been dreading the idea of having to work out a new cleaning schedule. Marie took the larger of the two small bedrooms upstairs. I made a move to put my belongings into the down-stairs room.

"You will move your things upstairs; I don't want you sneaking out in the night and whoring around." Her sneer and the hand on my arm were a threat. I nodded and lifted my bag back up. I placed my bags down in the smaller upstairs room and then made myself scarce. The movers were coming in and I needed to ensure I was somewhere I would not be seen. I stepped out into the sunroom and onto the porch. The sun here was hotter than I was used to. I would never get away with shorts or tank tops she would kill me first and I was terrified of what would happen if I asked. Heading down to the garage I made myself busy unpacking the boxes of lawn care and tools. I could barely breathe with this feeling that this place was so final. I was trapped and alone no-one would miss me, struck by how worthless I was I curled up on the floor next to the boxes and allowed myself to feel the crushing emptiness that was my life.