Drunken with rage, a man, or rather a father, hastily flew down his basement stairwell. He didn’t stop to notice the new dent in the wall or the new stain in his antique oriental rug as he usually would; no. This time was different. Angry, and furious, Mr. Moore scoured through every room, slamming each and every door behind him. He spun on his heel and marched for the very last corridor. As he yanked the door open he heard movement. Switching on the light, he scanned his most prized possessions, in which the room was meant to hold. This lonely room withheld all of his achievements, his memories, and with it, his dreams. No one was ever allowed to step foot in here, only another reason for him to punish his victim.
“Oh Lindsay, I know you’re in here.” He cooed. A smirk set upon his scratchy face.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Moore noticed tiny fingers with pink nail polish grasping the backrest of his desk chair. When his suspicion was confirmed by a lock of auburn hair hanging down the side of the chair, he charged; grabbing the arm belonging to a young girl, about the age of eight.
She struggled out of his grasp, and started to run for the exit; but with no luck. Mr. Moore had caught up to her, and seized the back of her neck, pulling her unruly, auburn hair.
“Daddy stop!” she cried, hoping someone would hear her. “I didn’t do it!”
Mr. Moore didn’t listen; even though Lindsay was telling the truth. She honestly didn’t do it. But he only thought of his other crying daughter, named Jade, who was upstairs. She was only five, but she was smart enough to know how to work her dad into getting Lindsay in trouble. After all, Jade was daddy’s little princess.
This time, Lindsay was accused of pushing Jade to the ground, which was soft and carpeted… unlike what Lindsay was pinned to, which was dusty and made of cement.
Whenever Jade started to cry, Lindsay knew the drill. She would sprint down the basement stairs and hurriedly choose one of her many hiding places to hide in for at least twenty long minutes… if she didn’t get caught before that.
Lindsay was still crying. She couldn’t yell to anyone, her mom was at her weekly book club for another hour still, and Jade was only five.
Mr. Moore was still fiercely slapping her freckled face, and pinning her to the ground.
“Stop crying!” He demanded. He always said this, but the pain always won over her emotions. “You’re such a-“He started, but Lindsay wasn’t listening anymore. She was trying to figure out how she could escape from him.
When he pulls his arm up to punch me, She thought. I’ll log roll under that space where his arm was. Or-or maybe I should punch him! Is that okay? He does it to me so maybe I can do it to him… She was still screaming, but she trained herself to concentrate on thinking and crying at the same time. I mean, (she wasn’t stupid) if she kept crying and screaming, someone was bound to hear her. She’s been strategizing on how to survive these… these beatings for as long as she could remember. It had happened plenty of times before…
It’s all just too sad. Lindsay doesn’t understand that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. It was child abuse. But honestly, what is an eight-year old supposed to do? Especially if she doesn’t know that it was illegal.
Lindsay decided to roll underneath him. She scrambled to her feet and ran up the wooden stairwell. She ran through the kitchen and into the living room in which Jade was in, and rounded the short corridor into her bedroom. She turned the lock on her door with sweaty fingers and started to cry again.
Her dad trudged up the stairs uninterested in Lindsay at the moment, (even though he was going to punish her later for running away) and sleepily walked into his bedroom.
When Lindsay finally calmed herself, she heard his door shut.
She sighed in relief.
It was over… for now.
