OYM Day 35: Poor Girl, Rising Sun Pt 3

I had slit his tires and taken whatever I could from his truck. I used the knife to stab the thick rubber and had about $800 in my pocket. I was not expecting the money, but I took it anyways. I also took a pack of gum, a lighter, and his keys. He hid them under the drivers seat, like every other confident man in this town.

I could make out the details of the church windows now. Mom never took me to church but she talked about God a lot, usually in vain. She either praised him or cursed him, for what he had given or taken away. The only time I’d been inside a church was for a congregation yard sale. I got a new (to me) winter coat and my mom got a rug, a broken down brown sofa, and some smart women’s wear to help her get a job. She could make any old thing look new again. She covered the stain on the rug with the broken down sofa and she covered the sunken seats on the sofa with patchwork quilt that grandma had made her before she passed. She sat on the quilt in her blouse with floppy shoulder pads, motioning me to come sit with her. She had been crying but was now forcing a smile. We had to move again.

We moved a lot because we were hiding from Daryl. My mother had left Daryl before I was born, but he had a habit of showing up when you expected it and also when you didn’t. He would sit in the parking lot and watch her pack the groceries into the car, but from a distance, and she wouldn’t know he was there until he’d leave a message about how tired she looked and that she really shouldn’t be feeding me that garbage. She lived in constant fear. Sometimes she would be close to forgetting the threats, the nights he hit her and told her her that he could keep going but wouldn’t (not tonight, anyways). But the false security never lasted more than a few months. She worried he would kill her. She was right to worry.

This was supposed to be a 3 parter..but I think it deserves 5. Maybe deserving is the wrong word. But with my 15–20 minute intervals I’m allowed to write these entries… I just feel it needs a bit more time. Let me know what you think so far! This fiction writing is very new to me…and I’m curious if anyone is able to follow it.

35/F/Las Vegas — Not a dutch milkmaid as picture may suggest. Question? Ask me anything. Info@oymandtrustme.com