Every night was a new nightmare. Even when things seemed to be going very well during the day and into the evening, he always found new things to fight about. He blamed her and us for everything he perceived as bad in his life. Sometimes it was about her not wanting to have sex every night. Sometimes it was about her not being adventurous enough in bed. Sometimes about her not having enough energy to please him after a full day of taking care of the house and three small kids in a world that had to be perfect. Sometimes the fights were about imperfection in childcare, cleaning or even what we had for dinner. There were plenty of other subjects for their arguments but mostly they were about sex, her "flaws", and about us.
No child should hear their parents having those kinds of arguments.
She would say if he was so unhappy he could leave but he said it was his house and he wasn't leaving. She would tell him she was leaving and he would make threats that scared me. He often told her she would never see us again. He said he'd take us to Mexico where little blond girls sold as sex slaves at a premium. I didn't know what a sex was but I knew a slave was made to do what the owner wanted and often beaten if they didn't. I had enough of that at home, the idea that some stranger could own me, force me to do what they wanted and beat me at will wasn't a good alternative to the life I lived at the time.
Not long after he threatened to take us to Mexico my mom showed us how to take off the window screens and climb out to the neighbor's house to call for help. She stowed a dime in our shoes and how to use a pay phone. She made us memorize our Gramie's phone number in case he ever came for us we were told to hide and find a way to contact our Gramie.
I'd lay in my bed afraid to move or make a noise. I cry silently. I'd pray for help and wonder if God could hear me over Mom's screams. I worried if the door opened that it would be him coming to take us away to Mexico where we would be sold and beaten by strangers. I would hide under my bed and curl into myself. I would try to be invisible. Every night was a new set of nightmares.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
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