"Stop! Just stop it!" That fucking bastard was yelling at her again! I hate him. He is such a piece of shit!
"Did you just talk back to me you little bitch?" He spit at me through his gritted crocked teeth. He hated when I told him what to do. If he wasn't bigger than me, I would beat the shit out of him. He really scares me though. I try not to talk back, but I get so mad! Now I have to run. I know what happens if I don't. Mom does too. I see her sneak out the back door. He lunges towards me and I quickly dodge him. I turn and sprint out the front door. I just run. I take a different way every time.
I meet Mom at our normal spot. "Hi Momma," I breathe heavily. I only call her that when we meet here.
"Hey SweetyBee," she says trying to catch her breath. He has only chased us once, but it wasn't to here. Mom and I ran together and he caught us. He beat her that night. He leaves the house after he beats her. It's different when he catches me though. Before I learned to run, he would grab me and take me to the bedroom. Beating me wasn't good enough I guess. He would rape me, hard. It isn't just when I do something bad though. Sometimes he just feels like it. I know I just have to take it. Mom gets beat worse if she tries to stop him.
"I wish we could just stay here," I say quietly. Mom just hugs me because she wants the same thing. Our place is the shed behind our old house where we lived when Daddy was alive. Now we live with Alan.
Let me tell you about Alan. Like I said before, he is a piece of shit. We moved in with him two years after Daddy died. Mom met Alan through work. She works at a salon in our town called Style Lodge. She cut Alan's hair for 3 months before we moved in with him. We have been living with him for four years. Mom and I were fine there for the first year. After that he started beating Mom. It all started when Mom broke her wrist from slipping on some ice and couldn't work for six weeks. Alan called her 'a clumsy cow'. Now when he beats her, me makes sure to leave her arms and hands alone.
We tried to leave once. It was about two years ago. Mom and I were going to stay with one of her friends from work. Alan wouldn't let us and he threatened us that he would find us and kill us if we ever left. So here we stay.
"Is the stuff still here Momma?" I ask her referring to the few snacks, books and blankets we keep here. The owners of the house have a few things in the shed but they hardly ever use it. The yard is big so they don't even know we are back here.
"It's all here," Mom says pulling out a box from behind another box. We open the box and I grab out a small bag of Doritos. I grab the book I have been reading and lay a blanket on the floor. I sit down and begin reading. We know we are going to be here for at least an hour.
*3 hours later*
"We should head back," Mom says pulling me from the zone I am in reading this book. I was so into it that I was almost done.
"After these four pages," I mumble and she doesn't argue. I finish the book and we put everything back in the box and slide it back to where it belongs. I'm scared to go back.