Dimensions

Chapter five

My entire body shakes as I sit against the wall of my bedroom freezing. It's the middle of winter, I know because I can see white snow drifting down outside my bedroom window. Each flake floats in front the streetlamp outside before peacefully settling on the grass of the front garden which I currently can't see. 

I suppose the right thing to do when locked in a room without comfort would be to crawl under my duvet and try to sleep but I can't, I've tried.

My father got someone in to cleverly put a toilet, shower cubical and sink resting on a cupboard in the corner of my bedroom away from my bed and wardrobe. It means he can leave me in here while he goes to work and my brother goes to school. Even though I hate being locked up in this room with nothing to do all day, having a small bathroom shoved in the corner, even if it does take up a majority of the bedroom, is better than sitting here all day desperately holding my bladder. 

The idle tapping of my fingers draws me back to the room, or is it the footsteps, heavy and clearly my father's, on the stairs. Either way, my heart rate buzzes up to an unnatural speed and I fall into an attack of panic which I can't seem to shake away.

Closing my eyes, I pray my father won't hurt me. Sometimes he hurts me and sometimes he shouts at me but if it's as late as I think it is he could have been doing anything downstairs. Anything such as drinking. Although he rarely drinks enough to get drunk he always appears to be full of an uncontrollable rage when the liquor is in his system.

The key turns in the lock, my legs draw up to my body and my arms wrap around them. Silently, I drop my head against my mattress and hope more than anything that the sight of me will disgust my father so much he turns away. But I appear to have no such luck. I hear his footsteps as he walks inside my room. The door closes. That means he plans on staying a while.

I'm shaking now not only from the cold but because of the fear of what is about to happen. I flinch, involuntarily, as my father steps closer to me. My head lifts up, higher and higher until my tiny eleven-year-old self is staring at the face that she fears most in the world. 

"Good evening, Leah." He sounds angry, but then he always does when he sees me. I blink at him in reply and he grits his teeth. "It is polite to reply." I clear my throat.

"Hello, daddy." I reply, voice hoarse and shaking. A frown spreads across his face. 

"Are you scared, Leah?" He asks. "Why is it that you're scared of me?" When I don't reply, his anger seems to grow. He pulls me from my bed and kicks me firmly in the shins. "Answer me!" He shouts and I flinch.

My eyes watch as he reaches for the belt looped around his waist. Slowly, he pulls it off then lets it fall, one end still in his hand. The leather belt jumps around like an out of control snake. My fear only grows and I start to breathe so heavily I can hear it. I expect my father can too but it seems to urge him on rather than make him stop. 

"Why are you scared of me, Leah?" He asks, rolling the belt up and then letting it flop back. He seems torn with what to do to me but it doesn't take him long to decide. "Why are you scared of your daddy?" I swallow.

I bite down on my tongue as the first whip of the belt catches my wrist and leaves a stinging so sharp I have to try hard not to scream out in pain. My father seems to leave the right interval of time so I can feel the intense stinging his belt until the pain gets too much. Then, he brings it down on me again. This time it catches my shin and I cry out, ignoring the taste of blood in my mouth where I bit my tongue too hard. 

Each hit sends a sharper pain than before storming over my body. My eyes blur with tears as my father hits my back and legs and arms. I try to pull away but he treads down hard on my ankles. I slump in defeat, sobbing silently as my father brings the belt down again and again and again.