Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
He shoved me forward to face the sink. It was already full of water and suds. There was only a bowl and a spoon next to it. Zoey had cereal when she got home from school. We didn’t even eat dinner that night at the house. We went to McDonald’s.
After taking out a wooden spatula from one of the drawers, he stood beside me as I started crying and said, “Pick up the bowl and wash that shit.”
I grabbed the bowl and washed it, then the spoon. I rinsed both and put them on the drying rack. He took them back off and placed them in the soapy water again.
“Wash it again.”
“But I—”
I couldn’t even protest. He raised the flat end of the spatula and smacked my behind with it so hard, it felt like it was on fire. I cried harder and picked up the bowl, washed it again, rinsed it, then put it on the drying rack.
He took it back off and dropped it into the soapy water again.
“Amor,” Ma called, staring at him with pleading eyes. I hated that she referred to him as love. He was filled with nothing but hatred.
He ignored her and continued staring at me, all vicious and angry. I was glad Zoey was still asleep. I didn’t want him hurting her too.
“You’re going to wash that bowl as many times as I tell you to until you get it through your thick fucking skull that you don’t leave dirty dishes in my sink.” I’m paraphrasing here, but that’s how I remember it. Then he said something like, “You’re the oldest. We work too hard for this shit. Take care of your fucking house.”
I was only nine at the time. I was just starting to learn how to take care of myself. He made me wash the bowl five more times. Ma stood and watched the entire exchange. I hated that she didn’t stop him, that she didn’t at least try to intervene. When Pa grew bored, he stepped away from me and took her by the arm, heading to their bedroom.
My hands shook as I wiped the counters. I checked to make sure no other dishes were around, then went back to my room. Along the way, I heard my parents in their bedroom making noises. They were having sex. I knew what that was, even at the age of nine. I knew a lot of things I shouldn’t have. I guess that’s what happens when you’re forced to mature ahead of time.
I lay in bed and cried for hours. When I think about it now, I assumed he probably got off on that—being in control. Abusing others and shouting at them. It made him feel bigger than he was and that’s why he’d dragged my mother with him to their room and had his way with her. He had a sick, twisted mind.
You’d think as I grew older, I would’ve done the opposite of my mother. Instead of giving myself to a man who’d hurt me constantly, I would run. However, as you get older, you realize that you aren’t too far off from being your parents. There’s always some part of them inside of you. You can’t fully escape what you were once surrounded by. That noise that took up a large portion of your life will always linger in the back of your mind. That’s why I hate my brain sometimes. It feels like a prison.
When I was nine, Ma started hitting me too, just to see Pa nod and praise her for disciplining their kids. They found a thrill in hurting me. I told them I’d tell someone what they were doing but they constantly told me that if I said anything, Zoey and I would be separated from each other, and we’d never see one another again. I didn’t want that. I love Zoey so, so much.
Soon after, they were going after Zoey too. I couldn’t stand to see her get hurt, so I bit the bullet. At that point, I didn’t care if we wound up separated. It was better than seeing her cry with welts on her legs. At eleven, I had the courage to tell Abuela. I showed her the marks from the spatula and the bruises on my arms. I begged her to make sure me and Zoey stayed together, and she promised me we would. That same day, Abuela called the police and our parents were investigated. She couldn’t believe her own daughter could hurt us that way.
Ben was assigned to our case and I remember thinking he was a really nice person. And it turned out he lived only a block away from Abuela. He invited us to his place often for dinner. That’s how I met Rose. Ben made sure he had enough evidence to have them arrested.