Stacey Workman - Giving Back the Shame

Chapter 1

Dad

I t was all so fascinating! Here I was on what I thought of as my first big outing into the world! Downtown at the Ice Capades! The ice-skating, the music, all the peopleI was so enthralled. When it was over, we were walking out through the lobby, and Mom told me to hang on to her purse strap as we headed toward the door. Then I saw thema whole big bunch of shiny balloons shaped like airplanes, so yellow and sparkly. They were so beautiful and mesmerizing I wanted a better look, so I stopped walking and just stared at them. After what seemed like only a minute, I realized I was no longer holding on to Moms purse, so I turned to grab it but Mom wasnt there

A small ball of panic began to form in the pit of my stomach. I didnt know what to do at first. Then I thought that I would just meet them out at the car Then I remembered that you had dropped us off at the front of the arena and then parked, so I didnt know where the car was.

There was another couple with us, so I stood and turned in a circle hoping to find at least one of four familiar faces. As I slowly spun, seeing no one I knew, a feeling of dread crept in and joined the increasing panic. And it wasnt because I thought I was lost. It was because I knew I was going to pay for letting go of Moms purse. There was going to be pain. And the longer it took for me to be found, the worse the punishment would be. There were still a lot of people around me, so I thought I would go stand outside on the sidewalk. Maybe I could see and be seen better out there.

So I slowly started walking toward the doors. With every step, that ball of panic grew bigger and up into my throat. When I reached the sidewalk, I stood and waited, trying not to cry. A moment later, a woman came up to me and asked me if I was lost. It was taking every fiber of my small body to fight back the fear and the tears, and all I could do was give a small nod. I dont know why I nodded because I knew wasnt lost, not really. What I was, was doomed.

If I could have spoken, I would have begged you to take me with you. You had such a nice face, and the tone of your voice said you were really concerned about me. I could tell that you wouldnt blame me or hit me and that I would be safe with you. I imagined you taking me to your house and sitting me down in your warm pale-yellow kitchen and making me some hot chocolate while you told me that you were glad I wasnt hurt and that it wasnt my fault. That I was too young to be responsible for my safety and that you would never be careless with me. But, with great sadness, I put the brakes on that wishful thinking. Why continue dreaming of a happy outcome knowing that it was absolutely pointless? No amount of wishing or hoping was going to save me from the monster in my fathers clothing.

That nice lady put her hand on my shoulder and looked out toward the parking lot, and I followed her gaze. Almost immediately, I saw you stomping toward me with your vise-grip hands balled into fists and a murderous look on your face. As you got closer and closer, my insides solidified with fear, and Im pretty sure I stopped breathing. When you reached me, you didnt even glance at the woman who was trying to help metrying to keep me safe. You were boiling over with rage that was completely focused on me. Immediately, you got right in my face and started yelling. Hot waves of anger washed over me, and with every word, spit flew from your lips and landed on my face, but I was too paralyzed with fear to wipe it away, swallowed by your enormous wild eyes and the death grip you had on my arm. Then you turned, jerking me along with you, and headed toward the car. I had to run or else be dragged behind you.

The next thing I remember is the five of us sitting in some restaurant. I didnt want any food. Just the thought of eating made me want to throw up. I was afraid you were going to force me to eat. But fortunately, you didnt.

So, I sat there while everyone else was eating, thinking, Why in the world are we even here at this restaurant?

I could tell that no one wanted to be there. They all just looked down at their plates as they ate and didnt say a word. Except you, Dad. In between bites, youd glare at me with those terrifying angry eyes and say, not quietly, Youre lucky youre sitting here right now!

Another bite, then

Youve had it when we get home!

Another bite

Be glad youre sitting here and not at home!

A bite

You are gonna get it!

You kept going on and on the whole time we were in the restaurant. And I was pretty sure that most, if not all of the other people there, could hear you as well. That didnt seem to bother you at all. And none of the other adults at our table said a word about how loud you were. It was as if they were afraid you would punish them like you were going to punish me. And with every bellowed comment, I felt my face grow hotter and hotter with embarrassment and shame.

My brain raced

There are three other grown-ups here. Why wont anyone help me? You know whats going to happen to me. I know you all know! Why arent you doing anything? Why wont anyone do something? Why wont anyone save me?

My silent pleas went unanswered as I sat there, immobile, bound by his fury and my humiliation.

I dont understand Am I really so bad? Im only five and already such a terrible person that my own father wants to hurt me. Am I really too much of a burden that my own mother wont do or say anything to help me? Why is this happening to me? Whats wrong with me?

I sat there silently, looking down at my hands on my lap while the grown-ups ate, trying to make myself as small as possible. Wishing with all my heart and soul that I could just melt into the chair and just disappear. The whole time hoping that you wouldnt suddenly decide to start punishing me right there in the restaurant in front of all those people. That was the longest and shortest dinner of my life.

Then we were in the car heading home. I was sitting in the back pinned to the seat by the weight of your anger that permeated the entire car. I couldnt hear, I couldnt think, and I couldnt breathe. All I could do was stare at the back of the drivers seat as I rode toward my doom.

In the blink of an eye, the car was pulling into our driveway. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of the car, but I knew I had no choice. And I knew that if I tried to delay, it would just make you angrier. So, fearfully, I followed you and Mom into the house through the breezeway. Once inside the house, I stood for a moment, staring at the basement door, unsure if I should enter the living room on the left or the kitchen on the right. Either way led to the front end of the hallway where the attic door was. And in front of the attic door was where you stood and yelled for me to get over there.

As I walked through the kitchen toward you, I could hear the slide of your belt as you yanked it through the loops of your jeans. You grabbed me roughly, jerked down my pants and underwear, and began to thrash me with your belt as hard as you could. The first blow felt like a thousand wasps all stinging me at the same time. The second blow felt like a million. After that, my entire body was racked with a burning, gut-wrenching pain from the surface of my skin to the pit of my stomach as your vicious strikes landed not only on my bottom but on my back and legs. I didnt think it was ever going to end. I could sense your rage and resentment with every swing of your arm that was punctuated by booming, high-pitched comments.

How do you like that?

WHACK!

Are you going to do that again?

WHACK!

How does that feel?

WHACK!

Huh?