To Love Preciado

I could hear screaming coming from downstairs. My father's harsh words pierced the air and lingered in my ears. My mother's cries of pain brought tears to my eyes. The breaking of glass and loud bangs against the walls made me cringe. I tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Even after all these years I still find myself in denial at times. But sadly I know the truth too well. My mother was getting the shit beat out of her while I sit in bed as if I don't exist.

After hearing the commotion for the longest time I couldn't take it anymore. I can't just sit around as my mom receives a beating. I have to do something. Maybe if I go down there I'll draw his attention and he'll direct his anger towards me and not my mother. I mean, I don't want to get beaten either, but my mom needs a break for once.

I left my room and shuffled down the stairs. The yelling got louder as I got closer. The blood pumped through my veins faster and my palms were clammy. Am I nervous? Am I scared? Hell yeah. This isn't a game, who knows what he'll do to me when he sees me.

I walked around the corner into the kitchen. My father was holding Mom against the wall, whispering painful words into the side of her head. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could sense my mother's fear expanding. He noticed my presence and turned to look me in the eyes.

"What are you looking at, Bitch?!" he asked me.

I couldn't say anything, I couldn't do anything. His intimidating eyes and fierce voice paralyzed me. I wanted to just stand there and cry but that would cause more problems.

He let go of my mom and started trudging slowly towards me. My mother was gasping for air and fell to her knees.

"Please don't hurt her!" my mom cried out.

"Shut up!" he replied to her. He was a few feet away from me now. A wall of his body odor hit me like a truck, I grimaced in disgust. Jeez, how long has it been since he's showered? "What do you think you're doing down here?" He took a step closer.

"I-I just needed some w-water." answering his question, not sure if it was rhetorical or not.

"Oh, so the little bitch came down here to get some water. Couldn't you hear that I was busy down here?"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Don't sorry me! You're just asking for a punishment!" He took a few more steps, now he stood over me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, cigarette smoke clung to his clothes.

"I'll go back to my room, Sir." I said, wanting to abort my earlier intentions. I started to turn around.

He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back towards him. "Oh, no no no. There's no leaving now." He spit on my face and stepped on my foot as hard as possible. His eyes shifted towards my mom. "Diana, get out of here now!" His Mexican accent was heavy as his tongue spelled out the syllables of my mom's name.

"Don't hurt her!" She cried out once more. "Don't hurt my baby!"

"Get the fuck out of here!"

My mother got up quickly and started to limp away. Her eyes caught mine, I read 'I'm sorry' across her face. I gave her a look of forgiveness. After all, I'm doing this for her sake.

He looked at me, giving me an evil smirk. "Look we're all alone now. It's been a while, how are you doing?"

"Just peachy." I said sarcastically.

"So you want to give me sass?" His hand swept across my cheek, stinging my skin. "Remember all the fun we used to have?" he said, referring to all my previous beatings. "No? Let me remind you!"

He pushed me to the ground with great force. My butt hit the tile, causing my eyes to water. As I was about to pick myself up, his foot met my chest. He pressed down softly until I was flat on the floor. He lifted his foot, cranked it back, then swung it into my side. My body jerked in response, I let out a groan. He then kicked me several times. He bent down and picked me up with one hand on the collar of my shirt. I flew forward, crashing into him. He shoved me a little before full on swinging at my face. His fist collided with my skin, breaking it open from the impact.

"Aw, you got your blood on my knuckles." He said trying to sound disappointed. In reality that brought him satisfaction.

His hands then took hold of my shoulders and he threw me into the nearest wall. My head made contact with the drywall and pain shot through my body. He punched me as hard as he could in my stomach. I coughed in his face, trying to grab more oxygen. If he really wanted to I feel like he could punch a hole right through me.

His hand clamped around my neck, not tight enough to choke me, but it was definitely harder to breathe. "You're a useless piece of shit. It's your fault this family has crumbled. I wish you were never born, you're just a big mistake." He paused, letting his words sink in. "You're so pathetic. You sit in your room all day, crying and moping. You're a little bitch that has to cut herself just to feel again." He was right about that much. "You can't do anything right, you're a waste of space! Your mom and I would be happier if you were gone. The world would be better off without you! You're never going to find love in this world you fucking cunt." As he went on, I started to believe his words more and more. He tightened his grip on my neck, cutting off my wind pipe. I struggled to breathe and my face began to turn red. "I hate you." He whispered in my face, his words stabbed my heart. He then let go and let me fall to the floor. He kicked me once more before walking away.

I sat there gasping for air and letting the tears stream down my face. I leaned against the wall and let the pain consume me. My body was aching and the bruises were starting to form. As I sat there I thought about all that he said, letting it take over my brain. He was right about everything. I don't deserve to live. Like he said, I'm just wasting space.

His words continued to roll along in my mind. I curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth, my fingers gripping the roots of my hair. I uttered cruel statements to myself, making my lips quiver. I felt so puny compared to the demons telling me these nasty things. I trembled as the negative thoughts grew stronger.

I stared out the kitchen window. Night was starting to take over. The sun was setting, disappearing behind the horizon much like my desire to live. I then stood up, knowing what I had to do next.

Notes