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Some of his friends come walking out of the store and notice us off to the side. It doesn’t take them any time to realize what is happening and get in on the action. They rifle through the rest of the grocery bags. One grabs the milk and pours it on my head while another grabs the flour and tears it open, dumping it out on top of the milk. I can feel the milk running down my legs into my shoes.
Finally, it’s over. I look up and see everything else scattered all around me on the ground. Food is crumpled, trampled on, or opened. Everything is ruined.
I’m devastated. I know how Mother is going to react. It has me already wanting to curl up and protect myself.
I start to make the trek to my impending doom. I’m sticky, I’m sweating, I’m starting to smell the milk getting hot in the sun, and I just feel gross. After about ten minutes, I decide to take my shoes and socks off. I’d rather tear my feet up on the gravel than walk in wet and soggy socks and shoes.
I know what is going to be waiting at the house. I know Mother is going to wonder where the groceries are. She is going to get one look at me and accuse me of embarrassing her yet again when I did nothing but stand there.
With each step that puts me closer and closer to my house, my anxiety rises. My palms are sweaty. I’m struggling to control my breathing, and my legs are shaking. As the house comes into view, I have to stop and take a few deep breaths.
You can do this, Pai. You know what is coming. Just go in there, deal with it, and move on to the next day.
Before I walk through the front door, I hide the clothes and leftover change in the bushes by the side of the house hoping she won’t look over here for one night.
I don’t even make it through the doorway, and she is already slapping me across the face. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough that it makes my head bang against the doorframe. She yanks my hair, throwing me on the floor, and kicks my stomach.
As I get back to my feet, I hear a faint noise that I think is the door slamming shut.
“Not even the second day of school and you broke the rules. SERIOUSLY, PAISLEY! How fucking stupid are you? You know you aren’t allowed to be around anyone. ANYONE! You know this, yet you were seen around a boy—a BOY—this morning. I was told he was grabbing you and yelling at you, making a big commotion. Do you realize how much you fucking embarrassed me this morning?
“And what the fuck happened to you?” Mother hits me with each word she says.
“Where are the groceries you promised you would bring home? We don’t have anything to eat! You look ugly. I bet you just stood there and let them do whatever they wanted to you, didn’t you? You really are just a good-for-nothing little slut, aren’t you? How many was it this time? Two? Four, Five? You know what? IT. DOESN’T. MATTER!” she screams at me, this time kicking me in the gut.
I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as I go down from the pain.
“You aren’t supposed to do anything withanyone! You will regret embarrassing me both times today. I always knew you were a mistake!” Mother yells as she starts to hit me again. “Now I have to take my play money and go to the grocery store to replace the groceries thatyouruined.”
I start to black out after a few kicks to my ribcage. The pain is almost unbearable, but I learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut. If I made any noise, her hits or kicks came more frequently or the power behind them increased.
The next thing I know, I’m being yanked up to my feet. I’m so dizzy, it takes everything I have in me not to throw up.
She twists my wrist, trying to get me to scream. She does this every time.
Luckily for me, this is one I don’t have to worry about. She has twisted it so much, I truly don’t feel any pain there.
I never break. I learned so long ago to never break. She even stabbed me once, trying to break me, and I still didn’t make a peep. Eventually, she lets me go and I black out before I even hit the ground.
* * *
I hear her talking to someone on the phone when I come around.
“Yes, yes, yes. I’ll pay you double. Just get over here and look at her. Whatever. Same deal as last time. Just keep it hush-hush like always.”
I close my eyes again and dive back into oblivion.
* * *
Coming to, I feel someone touching my chest, and I immediately start to seize.
“It’s okay. I’m just checking out your breathing and ribs,” comes the soft voice.
I open my eyes, and it’s the same doctor who always comes and patches me up.
“You have severe bruising on your thighs, three broken ribs, and a fractured wrist, but your mother refuses to allow you to have a brace. I’m sure you have a concussion too, but since I don’t have access to the machines needed to check and I’m not allowed to take you to the hospital, we are just going to treat you like you do. I already told your mother and wrote a script for pain meds.”
She looks around the room, then stops and stares at me. Heading to her doctor’s go bag, she gets something out and comes back over. Putting something in my hand, she closes it.
