Living With Evil Cynthia Owen (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

He held my thin body tight and kept stabbing and stabbing at me. My bottom burned and the pain shot up through my whole body, right up from my toes to my eyelashes. My head was throbbing. Eventually he shoved me away from him, like I was a rag doll. I held my breath, not daring to move until he fell asleep. Finally, I heard his snores, and tried to muffle the sound of my choking tears, careful not to wake him in case it started all over again.

Chapter 7

Christmas

Christmas was coming.

Daddy’s friends gave him big pieces of ham, a turkey and bundles of coal to bring home. There was so much beer and sherry and cider stacked up in the kitchen you could hardly move.

‘This is for your mammy!’ the men said when they brought their deliveries to the back door.

The house felt warmer than usual. We had tinsel round the picture frames and cards on the mantelpiece, and whenever I heard Mammy whispering I hoped it was all about the presents we might get, rather than secrets we had to keep. I wondered if Christmas might change things, but I didn’t really believe it.

Daddy slept in the bed with me every night now. I’d given up trying to imagine it might be part of growing up that would end any day soon, and I certainly didn’t think it was any sort of privilege or special treatment any more, because he hurt me so very much. It felt so wrong. And I couldn’t tell anybody about it, because I wasn’t sure what to say and I didn’t want to get into any more trouble. I didn’t want Mammy to shout or hit me. I didn’t want her to fight with Daddy any more than she already did, so I didn’t say a word.

I dreaded going to bed more than ever. Every step I took up the stairs each night felt like a step towards a cold, dark dungeon. What torture would there be tonight? How much would it hurt? Or would Daddy leave me alone? Maybe he would go to sleep, and when we woke up the next day the nightmare would have all ended. But I didn’t hold out much hope.

One night, after an evening carol service at school, Mammy gave me more cider than usual. ‘Go on, Cynthia, drink the whole tumbler down! It’ll help you sleep!’ I’d been complaining about my itchy head and the bites on my arms and legs. I’d told Mammy I had trouble sleeping because the itching kept me awake. I wanted her to know I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t tell her the main reason, the big reason.

I forced the icy cider down my throat even though the sharp taste made me want to spit it all out the second it touched my tongue. Only the thought that it would help me sleep, just like Mammy said, made me swallow it. I wanted to sleep. I felt very tired, and the nuns at school were forever telling me off for not concentrating.

I got into bed that night with my head feeling thick and fuzzy. It was aching inside and itching on the outside. I tried to tell myself tonight would be a good night. Daddy would go to sleep and not touch me. I would fall asleep soon, once I’d heard his long, slow breaths, and I would wake up in the morning feeling grand. I wouldn’t be exhausted like I normally was. I wouldn’t have black rings under my eyes and a sore head. And I wouldn’t be in pain.

My tricks didn’t work. My body didn’t listen to my head. Lying in bed, I started to tremble and quiver like I always did. My heart started hammering, and I instinctively pressed my legs together, hoping Daddy would leave me alone.

I heard his footsteps. Was he staggering around? Had he drunk lots of beer? It didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference. If he wanted to touch me and hurt me he would, I knew that. It wouldn’t matter if he was laughing and joking or shouting and cursing when he came in. It didn’t give me a clue about what he was going to do once he was in bed with me.

He was in the house now. He had ignored Mammy. She was knitting by the fire and watching a show on the telly. He was on the stairs. I felt so frightened I wondered if I should I jump out of bed and scream for help. No, how could I? All hell would break loose. I’d be beaten severely. Mammy and Daddy would go mad if I woke the little ones up, and they were fast asleep in the cot in the same room, as usual. I wished I could sleep like them.

I had no choice but to lie there and let Daddy do what he wanted to do. But how could I stand the pain? He hurt me so much. I didn’t want to be hurt. Why couldn’t Daddy just go to sleep? Please, God, please make him go to sleep tonight. I pressed my hands together in a prayer position. ‘Please, God, please! Hear me tonight. Make him go straight to sleep tonight!’

A foul smell descended on the bed as Daddy used the toilet bucket. The thick air felt like an extra blanket, so heavy and suffocating on top of me. The cider in my belly felt as if it was burning a hole in my stomach, and I wished I could vomit to get rid the foul stench catching in my mouth. But it was too late to move or do anything.

Daddy was in bed. He was naked, and he was pushing himself into me and turning me towards him. This wasn’t going to be that thing with my mouth, was it? I couldn’t stand it.

No, I could feel him hovering over me now. I was afraid he might fall and