My Life 101

Beautiful Disaster
2013-01-29 00:35:05 (UTC)

Don't play with matches

I bliwas seven years old, living with my bio father who had sole custody in Troy NY. From our apt on the third floor you could see the Hudson River, and here the traffic passing over the bridge, that would take you to the local dept stores.
My father, was a Type A personality, who ruled and raised me in fear. In his way I suppose he felt if I were afraid of him so much, I would never faulter,and disappoint him like my mother did.I would be to afraid to cross him.
I grew up believing that he literallly had eyes on me everywhere. In the house, outside,at school,in the bathroom. I say this because, he always knew what I was doing. I was a latchkey kid. I woke up, and he would be leaving for work, I'd come home from school, call him before anything else, and do my homework, then if I called him again, I couled watch 321 contact and mr rogers. I dared not ever change the channel, for he would know, somehow.
I give this history, only for the purpose of letting you know just how sheltered and fearful of ever doing anything to cross him, in amy way To screw up, meant certain punches, ridicule,slaps, and endless groundation from everything, which in my case, was going outside.
I did not have toys. If I did well on my report card, or he went on one of his many weekend "work" trips, I recieved books, I was reading at a 9th grade level in 4th grade. I was ostercized by all the other children in the complex, because I was in bed at 730 every night. My father would not allow me to go to birthday parties, or sleep over. This kind of made it hard to make friends.
I remember the day the moving van came down the lane, I was digging out some of the many holes from ants' homes, wondering if life got any better,and when I'd be allowed to see my mother again, when she would come and get me.
A girl with long brown hair was moving in. She was pretty and looked nice. I watched as she and her mom moved things in, and pretendednot to watch her. She caught me, and sat down next to me. We were instant buddies. I was elated, not only did I feel on top of the world, but she wanted to be friends with me.
We talked for what seemed hours,but it was probably closeer to 45 min.
We agreed to meet same place the next day. We continued this for close to a month. I had recieved permission to go outside, for an hour a night to meet with her outside, only.
She introduced me to her elaborate collection of barbies, and I introduced her to the woods out back, where you could run for hours, and you were free as a bird in flight.
I for the life of me, cannot remember her name, and that makes me really sad. For she was really the first friend I had.
So one day we met up, and she was pissed at her mom for some reason, I tried to talk to her, she even cried a little. She and I climbed up in the tree that was directly across from her living room window. We could see her mom and the phone, pacing back and forth, and how that irritated my friend even more.
My girlfriend said "hey look what I found in my mom's purse" I looked down to see a book of matches. Back in the 70's they all looked like the generic white ones of these days. I told her "You better get rid of those, you'll get in trouble" she said " I dont care, I hate her" I sat next to her, on a branch of this tree, that looked as though it had been carved out just for us as a sitting area. I watched as she took a match out and lit it, I was so scared I wanted to leave. I knew what she was doing was wrong. I was caught between right and wrong, and the feeling of, if I leave, I will never have a friend again. She asked if I wanted to try it, i said"NO!!" She lit two more, and I started sweating all over, I felt nauceous, dizzy,and felt as thogh I was going to loose my pb&j any moment I had to get out of there, and quick. I told her I had to go, she called me a baby, and I knew then, we would never be able to be friends again. She was turning into all the other kids that called me names, and ridiculed me for being such a "baby".I do not blame her, she had no way of knowing just how much I loved her, how her just being my friend rescued me from hell everyday.
I went home, and acted as normal as I could when my father got home. I was sweating balls, but I suppose I had learned to become quite the actress for self preservation.We made it through dinner, I told him of my homework and grades, he spoke of work, and how incompetant everyone was to his genius. I was doing the dishes, we never used the dishwasher, when the phone rang.
My fater answered, and I was not really paying attention, until the ol"Oh really!" came out of his mouth. I was dead.He knew I had stayed up in that tree, and didn't march my ass home as soon as I knew someone was disobeying rules.I was petrified, to say the least. He paced around and spoke for about 10 minutes to her mother I knew I was dead meat. "I will take care of it, and thank you for calling, I can assure you this will never happen again."
Done, I'm done. I wondered what part of my body was going to feel the assault first and what it would be. A punch, a slap, a drag across the room to get kicked.
He approached the living room, and said" get in here". He asked me what happened. I spilled it, all of it, in one huge long sentence, the tears were falling and I watched his face grow redder and redder. Never came a word until I was done. I said " I'm sorry Papa, for not obeying your rules"
His face changed into something I had never seen before, his eyes were almost black, and his face was so red, it looked like an overripe tomato.Something was seriously wrong here, what the hell.This is what went down on the phone" Her mother called me to inform me that she saw you playing with matches in the tree outside her window, and that you tried to get her daughter to light them as well. tha you had found them somewhere and tried to get her daughter to light stuff on fire."
Well there you go...no way to defend yourself over an adult. I tried like hell to get him to believe me, he was convinced I had done it, there was nothing I could do. He looked at me and called me "a little shit that likes to lie, and he was going to teach me not to play with matches, if it was the last thing he did.Getover here now!" I to this day can smell that room, see his face, feel my ass burn, my back on fire.He made me lay across his lap, where he proceeded to pound my ass, my back, the back of my head. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. He lit me up, I sceamed and thrashed, he pulled me back n his lap, and beat me for trying to get away. I kid you not, this went on for at least 30 minutes.
He pushed me off, and told me to get my ass in bed and I was grounded for a month, and because of my actions I would never be ableto play with her again.
I was seven, I was betrayed, I was beaten, and I was alone. This was the first beating I ever recieved, and it still effects me to this day.




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