Stuck with Stupid (NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON)

Prologue

Prologue

We were driving home from my dad’s business meeting when it happened; the moment in my life that changed my life forever. My dad had been drinking more than he should have and my mother wasn’t speaking to me because my teacher had threatened to call Child Protector Services on them.

Just earlier that day, I had tried lying to my teacher, saying that it was an accident and I had fallen and hit my head on the dresser corner, but she wouldn’t leave it alone. When  I got home from school, my mother was yelling into the phone. Her eyes shot up towards me and there was pure hatred in them.

My dad wasn’t home when I got there and I tried to sneak up to my bedroom, away from his beating hands. He beckoned to the living room where my mother soon entered.        

“You ungrateful little bitch,” she screamed at me. “We give you everything that you ever could want and you tell people that we beat you?” she was mad at me. I didn’t mean to tell them. It wasn’t my fault they left bruises and marks on me. I was only five years old at the time. I didn’t know any better than to wear long sleeves and keep to myself.

My mother’s foot connected with my leg and I fell to the ground, slumping into a fetal position. She kept kicking me until my father’s voice echoed through the room. “Enough,” he sneered. The brief moment I had in-between beatings, I tried scrambling away but that only made my father angrier with me.

His body loomed over mine as he picked me up and threw me onto the couch. I let out a whimper of pain from my mother’s beating. It hurt so much. I remembered thinking about how I wanted the pain to go away. I needed the pain to go away. I tried not to cry as my dad did what he wanted with me.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as I sat in my car seat, pulling my shirt up over my head. My father kept looking into his rear-view mirror, sneering at me. “Did you have a nice time sweetheart?” he asked with a coy smile plastered on his lips. I drew in a deep breath not wanting to talk, scared of the consequences.

“Answer me God damn it!” His fist hit the steering wheel and I jumped up, meeting his eyes with my own.

“Yes I did daddy,” I croaked, wiping the tears from my eyes. My voice cracked a bit as I quickly looked away out onto the dark streets. The truth was, I didn’t enjoy myself. His meeting was one with snobby rich men and their over-dressed wives drinking alcohol and talking trash about other people. The house was stuffy and none of the other mom and dads had brought their children so I was the only one there. They made me sit in a room by myself.

I had to wear long sleeves because my parents had done a deal on my tiny body. The other parents took no mind to me staying in the other room. No one took into account that I was wearing a turtleneck on a hot summer night in Los Angeles.

I sat in the den of the Michaels grand house. My father and his business partner, Mr. Michaels were trying to open up their own branch of his company. The meeting was cut short because Mr. Michaels had to go and pick up his son, Aaron, from a friend’s house. Aaron had gotten sick and wanted to come home. I was relieved. I wanted to go home, crawl under my blanket, and wish for a new family. I wanted a family that loved me; one that would treat me like a person and not just a rag-doll that they regretted having.

My father came into the room that I was sitting and pulled me out of the room by the arm. “Daddy, you are hurting me,” I whined. My arms were weak. I couldn’t get away from him. He pulled me to the car by my hair and roughly buckled me into my car seat. It was hard for me to sit there, and watch my mom and dad sit hand in hand, my father looking at me through the mirror.