Hopefully Beautiful - "I more than survived... I thrived."

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Chapter 8


That was it, I had had enough; he was hurting and scratching me down there now when he touched me with his long fingernails! We were telling today!

Sand and I went into the kitchen where Momma sat at the table chopping onions and smoking a cigarette. I sat next to her on the right side of the table; Sand sat on her left.

“Momma we gotta tell you something” I said as Sand looked at the table. Momma whipped her head to the right, staring at me. “What is it” she asked, holding her cigarette in the corner of her mouth. I fidgeted where I sat, as I clasped my fingers together; Sand looked at me from across the table.

“Corn has been bothering us” I said, as my heart slammed against my chest. Momma blew smoke out of her mouth, “Whatchu mean bothering you” she asked? Her eyes formed into slits as she sat back in the chair; pulling the cigarette from the corner of her mouth where she had been holding it. “I’m waiting” she said.

I told her everything that he had been doing; from opening the bedroom and bathroom doors when we were naked, to him touching and kissing us. While I told her, she looked back and forth between Sand and me; her face becoming dark and stressed.

“Let me finish cooking” was all she said, as she stood and took the onions to the stove. Sand and I got up from the table and went outside to sit on the front porch quietly.

Corn’s car roared into the drive way and my heart started to slam against my chest. I heard Momma’s heavy feet hit the floor, as Sand, Frisky and I stood peeking around the doorway to see Momma standing in the living room waiting for Corn to come in the house.

“Get your shit and get out” Momma yelled as he came through the front door! “What” Corn said with hunched shoulders. “You touching my girls… get out” she yelled!

“They lying, I wouldn’t do no shit like that Pat” he said. “I love you”! Momma stomped into their bedroom and pulled out a trash bag with some of his things and handed it to him. “Get out” she yelled! “Don’t do this Pat” Corn said through tears. Tears!

I couldn’t believe it as I looked at Sand, who looked at me with a small piece of a smile on the corners of her lips. “Don’t make me have to make you leave” Momma threatened.

Corn picked up the bag and backed out of the front door; Momma followed. Corn stood at the front of the car in the drive way crying; Kooky is now on the front porch crying for Corn not to leave.

Sand and I watched Corn standing there crying; then finally getting in the car and pulling off. Momma came back into the house and stood in the den doorway looking at me and Sand. We couldn’t believe it; Momma believed us and made him leave!

She turned around and walked into the kitchen; we followed and entered the kitchen as she opened the silverware drawer. She reached in and drew out the long butcher knife! My heart started to race double time as we backed out of the kitchen into the dining room.

Momma drew the butcher knife high in the air, with the blade pointing down and swung her arms down and stabbed herself in the stomach! Her eyes were huge and her face torn in a mournful scowl; she grunted and fell to her knees! She fell on her side balled up in the fetal position and did not move.

Sand and I threw ourselves on the floor next to her; screaming and crying. Poor Kooky went into a real asthma attack Momma scared him so bad! “Go get your inhaler” I yelled and he ran back into the den, returning with his inhaler in his mouth and crying.

“We gotta call the police” Sand said. Momma sat straight up on the floor. There was no blood. She looked at me, Kooky and Sand; got up, placed the knife on the counter and walked away to her room and closed her bedroom door.

Corn was back in the house the next day.

Now Corn was bold. He walked up to me in the kitchen, as Sand and I cleaned up and pulled my chin up to look at him and kissed me on the mouth; with Sand standing there looking.

He did the same thing to Sand in our bedroom; with me standing watching. Ever since Momma let Corn come back in the house, he touched us every chance he got.

We couldn’t say anything to Momma about it now, she believed him over us; she had made her choice. And now it seemed Momma hated my and Sand’s guts! She was always mad at us, I couldn’t do anything right. “You lying bitch” she would say as she beat me or Sand.

It got so bad we were afraid to come home from school! I started going to the YMCA after school program to keep from going straight home.

Whoever got home first would meet the other at the front door and let each other know what to expect. Were we in the house alone with Corn? Was Momma on the rampage? She seemed to be looking for reasons to beat us.

She was constantly hitting me about my clothes. Corn was always hanging around making remarks and staring. “Those shorts crawling all in your booty” he would say. Then Momma would say “Look at you, you whore” and hit me in the face or head. “Change your clothes you strumpet”.

I was afraid to be seen, so I stayed in my room and played with Sand mostly, or Sand and I would leave out the back door to keep from having to pass Momma or Corn in the other parts of the house.

I wanted to die, but didn’t know how, so I tried to get Kooky to help me. Even though Kooky was quiet, or learned to be quiet, he had Momma’s temper. He didn’t say much. “Leave me alone” he would yell in his high pitched voice. “Leave me alone or I’mma tell Momma!” he would threaten.

We would keep throwing Lego wooden blocks at him or hitting him or knocking the covers off of him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He would start to cry and without warning he would lunge screaming “Ahhhh!” He dove for Sand or me with his hands stretched out hard, fingers crinkled like a monster and grabbed us by the neck; he shook as he squeezed with all his might!

We would pull him off of each other from behind until finally he let go with a whine. He was not to be messed with! It was like he kept all the things that happened in the house to us inside until he was forced to let it out; on our necks!

This particular time I aggravated him until he broke and grabbed my neck; I hoped he would kill me. He shook as he squeezed with all his little might and I just let him, but he wasn’t strong enough. I lived.

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