The Sabbath.

The covers were pulled tightly over my head.

Who knows what i did this time? Did I refuse to wipe the baseboards down? Did i protest my grilled cheese and chocolate milk for sunday afternoon lunch? Did I accidentally ignore her, too tuned into the tv? 

All i knew was, i was getting it. And it was bad.

It was my typical sunday afternoon. The time when most families eat a leisurely lunch, laughing and resting their sabbath away. Except at 265 Bent Tree Drive, Jesus wasn't spoken about on sundays, or any other day for that matter. But satan was. you little devil, you little witch. How i abhor you! I outta knock you from here down to the end of the road!!

Every single time i heard those words come out of her mouth, i knew it was coming. That's why i was hiding under the covers with Lindsay, our legs tucked under us and adrenaline pumping. Sometimes we would laugh together as we awaited the beating. Pretty soon though, after having our hair pulled out and faces slapped, we would sit in that room, the one dad had painted tar heel blue just for us, and weep.

Not the kind of weeping you do when you sense a loss in the family, not the kind of crying when you lose a beloved pet or your favorite childhood toy gets thrown away.

It was a sorrow i can't describe. A sorrow mingled with deep anger and hatred. I've tried to describe it to jake, but it can't really be understood unless you've gone through it. 

It was a loss of hope.

I no longer believed i was a good kid.

i no longer believed she would love me. Heck, i'd tried. I made all a's, was a junior girl scout and gymnast, i even kept quiet a lot and even fixed my own snacks in the fifth grade after school.

No matter what, emily and lindsay were "devils on wheels".

I sobbed for hours on that white iron twin bed, with my wacky colorful comforter they had gotten me,  my hanson posters surrounding my bed.

What did my friends see when they came to my house?

They saw fun! They loved going to the twins house-the trampoline, riding rollerblades, eating junk food, watching movies, listening to cd's on my huge boom box. They saw the typical family.

you know what i saw? 

I saw through it all. I saw a room i went and hid out in before you "beat me to a pulp", as you would say.

I saw dad vanish from the scene each time you turned violent.

I saw me, a 10 year old kid turn into a MONSTER so i didn't have to go to school with a bald spot, or better yet die the time you trampled my stomach.

I saw through it all. The money, the clothes, the awards, the trips. 

I looked into the mirror one day in sixth grade. I saw a zitty, ugly, adolescent child. instead of believing i was worthy of living, that i amounted to anything, i saw what you said about me.

"I wish God never put breath in you."

And when those things would happen on sundays, when i would hide out in anticipation of the beating, then sit sobbing in my room, sometimes i wished God never put breath in me either.