Sunday, April 24, 2011

chapter one it starts


  For my eighth birthday my mother thought that she and my father would take me out to the nicest restaurant in Dublin. My father was an alcoholic but he had never gotten violent. That night when we got home I heard my father tell my mother that he had gotten fired today he said it was her fault then all I heard was my mother cry out in pain I came out of the shadows and my dad picked me up and said “you don’t tell anyone what you saw” and then he threw me against the wall. This is how it started.
    I slowly got up and felt a sharp pain coming from my forehead  I touch softly were it hurt and brought my hand down it was now covered in sticky red blood. I had known that in the cupboard there was a bandage but I didn’t dare go to get it because my dad was in the way. He had never hit me or mummy before what had started this. So instead I just hoped it would stop bleeding soon and went to bed the next morning I think that if I am nice to daddy that he wont hit me so I make him a coffee and bring it to him while he is watching the news but instead of a thank you I get what is this I don’t drink coffee I drink tea and then he throws the hot coffee at my feet I had only just boiled the kettle so the water burnt my legs. I hissed out in pain. As my mother walks in she sees the broken cup at my feet and that my legs are bright red she picks me up and carries my out of the room.
    My mum tells me it will get better but I see her black eye I ask her what happened she just smile weakly and makes my dad a tea and tells me to go play. After a while my dad  goes for  a walk I know he wont be long but I think that I have to be good so I go up to mum and say if I am good will daddy hit me tonight  her answer is kind but I know its not true “ well honey of course not daddy is just worked up because he got fired he will calm down after his walk no come on we can bake him some cookies” I help mummy measure out some flour but then the door slams and dad burst in to the kitchen my mum stands in front of  me to stop him but he just pushes he out of the way and yells “ WHAT ARE YOU TWO THINK YOUR DOING”  my answer was weak as he was crushing my lungs “we thought we would bake you cookies”. He didn’t like that answer so he  throw me against the wall and then he starts yelling mean words at mummy she doesn’t get up. She knows that if she did she would surely get a slap. I crawl to my room hidden in the shadows. I stay here for the rest of the day. My dad finds a job but he hates it more then his last so the beating get worse and more frequent  my bones start to break, but  my mum still took me to the doctors I was in cast after cast .
     The year went by but it felt like ten by the time my birthday came around again I had broken nearly every bone in my body at least once.  I didn’t expect anything for it but a beating so I was surprised when I got a card from mum. I knew she did this against daddy’s wishes I knew she would get a beating tonight. Again and again I get thrown against the wall the but the bigger I get the hard I am to throw so he starts to hit me with a whip in stead time after time. I have multiple scar and welts on my back until just before my tenth birthday I decided that I am going to have to run away I will wait for my birthday but then I still have to go through with two weeks of whipping.  I try to make the most of the time left with my fragile mum over the last two years she has endured more whippings and beatings then I have so my once jolly happy mum is now fragile and miserable. I tell her my plan and she says she will help when his is past out drunk she will help me pack and then give me directions to somewhere safe although anywhere is safer then here.  Finally my birthday comes around and I get ready  to go

10 comments:

  1. 0.0


    omg!

    I feel so sorry for her! I have never gotten any broken bones...glad I haven't! Some kids made it seem "glamorous" with their signed casts and stuff...

    great writing!

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  2. Awwwwwwwww..............

    i feel so sorry 4 her and her mum

    i've broken 1 bone in my wrist

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  3. *cringes* That was brutally explicit. that poor girl and her mum. :-( I hope the mother gets away, too?

    Interesting start! I like how the description of events is kind of cold and clinical, in direct contrast to what is actually happening. Like the narrator has to be detached because it's so horrible.

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  4. This is AWESOME Amelie! Completely and absolutely amazing! Nice start for a story, I can't wait for more! XDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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  5. WOw that's so sad :'[
    I hope he suffers!

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  6. Awww...Poor mom and little girl! It's shameful that the dad behaves that way. And also sad no one came to the girl's rescue.
    Very deep and moving story Amelie. I hope the mom gets away to and that th egirl experiences more happiness soon!
    :D

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  7. This was a really straightforward, chronological, concise, clinical description of events. There was really no place I wanted more description or motivation, or needed something filled in. It was very clear already, so I basically just smoothed out the grammar a bit. Do not feel obligated to make any of these changes, they are just suggestions.

    Sorry it took me so long to get around to this. I wanted to be able to concentrate fully, and that's hard to do with my family around. :-P If you have questions about my suggestions, grab me on the blog, or you can email me from my profile page.

    (((Amelie))) Waiting to see more of this! Hope you post soon.

    Title, I'd change to "A woman's True Power" or "Women's True Power" - first fits better, I think.

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  8. For my eighth birthday, my mother thought that she and my father would take me out to the nicest restaurant in Dublin. My father was an alcoholic, but he had never gotten violent. That night when we got home, I heard my father tell my mother that he had gotten fired today. He said it was her fault; then all I heard was my mother cry out in pain. I came out of the shadows, and my dad picked me up and said, “you don’t tell anyone what you saw,” and then he threw me against the wall. That is how it started.

    I got up slowly and felt a sharp pain coming from my forehead. I touched softly where it hurt and brought my hand down. It was covered in sticky red blood. I knew that in the cupboard there was a bandage, but I didn’t dare to go get it because my dad was in the way. Instead, I just hoped it would stop bleeding soon and went to bed. He had never hit me or Mummy before that night.

    The next morning I thought if I were nice to Daddy that he wouldn't hit me, so I made him a coffee and brought it to him while he was watching the news; but instead of a "thank you" I got, "what is this? I don’t drink coffee, I drink tea!" And then he threw the hot coffee at my feet. I had only just boiled the kettle so the water burned my legs. I hissed out in pain. As my mother walked in she saw the broken cup at my feet and my bright red legs. She picked me up and carried me out of the room.

    My mum told me it would get better, but I could see her black eye. I asked her what had happened. She just smiled weakly and made my dad a tea and told me to go play.

    After a while my dad went for a walk. I knew he wouldn't be long, but I thought I had to be good. I went to Mum and said, "If I am good, will Daddy hit me tonight?" Her answer was kind, but I knew it wasn't true: "Well, honey, of course not. Daddy is just worked up because he got fired. He will calm down after his walk. Now come on, we can bake him some cookies.”

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  9. I helped Mummy measure out some flour, but then the door slammed and Dad burst into the kitchen. My mum stood in front of me to stop him, but he just pushed her out of the way and yelled, “WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU'RE DOING?”

    My answer was weak as he was crushing my lungs: “We thought we would bake you cookies.” He didn’t like that answer, so he threw me against the wall, and then he started yelling mean words at Mummy. She didn’t get up; she knew that if she did she would surely get a slap. I crawled to my room, hidden in the shadows, and stayed there the rest of the day.

    My dad found a job but he hated it more than his last. The beatings got worse and more frequent. My bones started to break, but my mum still took me to the doctor's. I was in cast after cast.

    A year went by, but it felt like ten by the time my birthday came around again. I had broken nearly every bone in my body at least once. I didn’t expect anything to mark the day but a beating, so I was surprised when I got a card from Mum. I knew she did this against Daddy’s wishes. I knew she would get a beating that night.

    Again and again I was thrown against the wall, but the bigger I got, the harder I was to throw. He started to hit me with a whip instead, time after time.

    I had multiple scars and welts on my back before my tenth birthday. I decided that I had to run away. I waited until my birthday, enduring another long two weeks of whipping. I tried to make the most of the time left with my fragile mum. Over the previous two years, she had endured more whippings and beatings than I had, so my once jolly happy mum was broken and miserable.

    I told her my plan and she said she would help. When he passed out drunk, she helped me pack and then me directions to a safe place. Anywhere was safer than home. Finally my birthday came around, and I got ready to go.

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  10. Oh.
    My.
    God.
    I am so, so glad this is a story...

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