| |
Timberly
The pitter-patter of rat’s feet is what keeps me company in the dungeon of the dark, laying on the cot in the corner of the room that holds no pictures, no pretty paint, wallpaper or carpet, no sweet smells of home, just dark, wet sadness, anger and pain. Why was I born into this? Why is this my life? How did this become my existence? My state of living, in reality, I'm not even existing. That existence was taken the night she allowed them to take the purest part of me and each night after that, my soul broke into tiny pieces.
I wonder if I will ever escape and find the happy ever after I so long for. Will I find someone who can glue my soul back together? Is there such a man who would want someone as shattered and tormented as I? That’s the question here; is there? Do such things exist in this life?
We will see. I grab for the bundle of money I have been saving and hiding among the floorboards, where the rats, mice and roaches live. Soon I'm sure I will have enough to run away from here forever, to escape them, but will I ever be able to scrub off the filth left behind from them?
To be free, to forget that this is just smoke and ashes, that I can be a modern-day gal and have what I see the other young women that come into the diner have – holding their boyfriend’s hands the look of love and happiness as if they are walking on air. Closing my eyes, I drift into a sweet dream filled sleep of hand-holding and forehead kisses. Oh how I long for that.
The morning sun kisses my face through the window. I see the dust bugs floating by on the rays of the sun, I hear the footsteps coming to unlock my door. I push myself back as far as I can on the cot bed pulling my knees up close to my chest my breathing hitches as my heart stops fear laces through me and anger dances over the hairs on my spine, slamming my eyes shut I suck in a deep breath and ready my tiny shaking body for the onslaught of a cold bucket of water that gets thrown over me as she barks at me to get the fuck up get their food and coffee ready!
“Well, I would be able to do it a lot easier if you didn’t lock me in each night!” I spit which, in turn, gets me a hard slap to the side of my face as my head whips around. I hide the water pooling in my eyes.
“Got to run your mouth, don’t you? You smart little bitch, get up, you have ten minutes to clean your poor excuse for a girl up and get us fed before you go make money to pay the rent.”
Rubbing my hand over my red, swollen cheek, I pull myself up, hang the tattered blanket over the chair and the wet, stained mattress up by the window to dry. Heading to the small cupboard that holds my work uniform and grabbing it, I then head to the bathroom to wash. I hope this day goes by fast so I can escape into the land of dreams and non-reality. It’s better than living in her hell hole of hatred, resentment and anger. She is my mother, she gave birth to me her hate for me makes me hate her she is poison and she spits out a venom that burns. Her words cut deep coiling an anger in me that makes me hate the thoughts that dance through my mind of just what I’d love to do to her and her sick men. She is killing me slowly.
How sad that my life has become one of dreaming and torment at the hands of old men and a mother who is the spawn of the devil, I'm sure of it. No, she is the Devil!
I have to head to the library before work. I'm trying to find my grandparents on her side they could be my escape from this torture chamber. I haven’t seen them in years. The last letter I saw that came from them held a plane ticket for me, but the devil ripped it up and gave me one hell of a beating for it. Like it was my fault, they loved me. They wanted me, and I needed them. Will they still want me if I find them? Still want to love me once they see the hurt in my eyes and the devil on my shoulder.
Pulling my hair into a high ponytail, I scrub cold water over my face. The hot has been shut off, they only turn it on after I leave. It's not like I would use much of it anyway. Its their sick form of amusement and they seem to get pleasure from knowing that I shower in the icy cold water while they get to bask in the heat.
Heading downstairs, I grab the dirty laundry as I head to the kitchen to start on their breakfast; bacon, eggs, beans and toast with tea, coffee and juice that will keep them going till lunch which is in the fridge for them to grab. God I really am a modern-day Cinderella I’m not allowed to eat their food. I have bread and milk daily a biscuit and gravy with water and the odd granola bar. I also work at a diner and Red the owner is a beautiful woman who allows me to have coffee and a full meal daily. My life is a mess.
Heading out the door, down the filth stained corridor, down the six flights of stairs, I'm finally out in the fresh air. Untying my scarf from around my face, I walk down through the slums, to Flushing Meadows Park, and into the library. A familiar sound approaches. My stomach leaps as the butterflies build rolling on the waves of excitement. I see the same guy every day I just wish that he sees me. He rides a motorcycle, it hums its way through the streets that hold so much pain. I wish I could jump on the back of his bike and just ride away from here. He wears black jeans and this pair of amazing cherry red Docs. I wonder where he goes? Why would he be down here?