(Shout Until My Lungs Hurt) My Ghoulish Nightmare

“I could shout until my lungs hurt.  But there is no way I’m going to do all this housework, while my two brothers are outside playing football,” I yelled to my mother who forced me to clean the house.

“Kiki, all of the young ladies your age help their mothers to clean the house so they can learn to be good wives someday.  Now get crackin’.  Start cleaning,” my mother yelled with a smug look on her face.

“Your mother and father never made you clean the house at twelve years old.  Actually, you never did housework until after you go married.  Any, I need to go inside my bedroom to focus on my studies for school.  I have to work on my fractions for math.  I have a book to read for language arts class, and I have my science and social studies homework to do yet,” I shouted while I ran into my bedroom and begun doing my school work.

Just then, I heard my father’s thunderous voice and harsh footsteps as he entered the house.

Being the puppet she was, my dumb mother reported to my father everything I said and did, just so she could get on his good graces.

He came storming in my room, grabbed my books from the table, threw them against the wall, and said in a dangerous voice, “Get up now and clean the house.  What do you need this crap for.  School no good.  What you need education for?  Education never put food on the table.  Hard work and suffering put food on the table,” while grabbing a hold of my hair, yanking me up from my bed, and shoving me against my closet sliding doors.

He kicked me, and slapped me multiple times on the left side of my face.

I was dragged out of my bedroom and into the hall, when he shouted, “Get up.”

As I struggled to stand up, I fell back down, banging my knee against the wall in the process.  I writhed in pain.  There was a burning sensation in my left shoulder, because of the blows I took from my fathers belt.  I wanted to cry, but I didn’t dare, because I knew I’d only be making things worse for myself.

He repeatedly struck me with his belt.  I blocked the blows with my arms which burned even more.

My father grabbed a hold of my arms, yanked me up from the floor, and shoved me into the dining room.  I fell to the floor, landing on my hands and knees.

My mother entered the dining room, and struck me across the face with her right hand, yelling, “When I tell you to do something, you do you young lady.  I don’t take this business of disobedience from you.  Nice girls don’t behave that way.  All the other girls your age obey their parents when they are given orders to do housework or anything else

When I give you a direct order you are to do it.”

“The two of you are insane.  Nobody has devils for parents other than me.  Neither one of you are God loving people.  What contest in hell did I win to end up with two evil tyrants like the two of you for parents?  I hate you both.  Someday, you’ll both pay dearly for the cruelty you’ve inflicted upon me.  Just wait and see.  You’ll both get what you’ve got coming to you.  I hate you both and I wish you were dead.  I wish I was someone else’s daughter.  I wish I had civilized, intelligent human beings for parents instead of two devils like the two of you,” I shouted with my face wet from my tears.

“Who you think you talking to?  Get up now.  Move,” my father shouted while struggled to get back on my feet.

Stumbling into the kitchen, I walked up to the counter where the rack of wet dishes lye.  I grabbed a hold of a couple of them and sent them crashing to the floor, in retaliation.

I then ran out of the kitchen from the nearby entrance, and out the side door of the house, and into the driveway where my brothers were playing with their football.

My parents followed me, grabbed a hold of my arms, and forced me back into the house where I ended up picking up the broken pieces from the dishes I broke, and tossing them into the garbage.  I couldn’t wake up from the ghoulish nightmare I was living.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

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