Give Me Grace

Chapter 3

Part Two

About a week later, I heard my mom screaming at my dad. It was the middle of the night, and they were downstairs in the office, but I could hear them clearly. I checked on my siblings, who were sound asleep, then made my way downstairs. I saw the light coming from the office and peeked my head around to find out why my mom was screaming.

She was holding up a red pair of panties and then threw them at him. She continued to scream and I was scared. My dad said my mom would be upset, but it looked like she already knew. 

“Mommy, it’s okay, daddy was only helping her,” I tried to defend my dad.

“Who?” she turned to me, face full of tears.

“K-Katie. She was crying because she made a mess and Daddy was trying to help her. He was getting her another shirt.” I told her.

“KATIE? Wayne! She’s a child!” My mom screamed.

“She’s 18! She’s of legal age to consent. I did nothing wrong!” He yelled back.

“Nothing wrong? You fucking cheated on your wife with a teenager who we watched grow up! She was supposed to be babysitting our fucking kids! You sick bastard! You let our daughter catch you!”

“She was an adult and she came onto me!” he yelled back.

“She just turned 18 two weeks ago! You’re old enough to be her dad! You expect me to believe that she just came onto you the moment she came of age? How long have you been fucking her?”

“I haven’t!”

“You fucking liar! You’re a pedo-”

That was when the unthinkable happened. My father slapped my mother before she could finish her sentence. But that’s not what traumatized me. No. As my mom fell to the floor crying, my dad ran past her, his face red with anger and his eyes crazed, and slapped me so hard I fell to the floor.

He didn’t stop there. He continued to slap me repeatedly, and I was powerless to stop him. Mine and my mom’s wailing fueled his rage as he continued to berate us and assault us. My mom, when she realized what he was doing, pulled herself off the floor and tried to pull my dad off me, but she was weak.

“You stupid little bitch! I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut! This is your fault!” He spat at me as he hit me again before my mom got in the way.

“Get out! You filthy piece of shit!” My mom yelled before his fury turned on her.

Unlike when he hit me, he hit her with a closed fist. She fell to the ground crying but he continued to hit her. Scared, I ran from the room and called the police. It didn’t take long for them to show, but each passing second felt like hours.

My father ended up being arrested and since the police caught him in the act, they didn’t need my mom’s statement, although they asked for one anyway. They charged him with domestic violence and child abuse. He ended up spending six months in jail and was fined three thousand dollars.

During the time my dad was in jail, my mother went into a downward spiral. She started to miss work and forgot to do things like make dinner and pick us up from school. She even almost attacked the neighbor as well, for asking for my dad’s help. Katie and her parents got a restraining order on my mom and eventually, we got kicked out because my mom never paid the mortgage.

Just like that, my world came crumbling down. My siblings, especially my brother, blamed me for our family falling apart. At first, I believed them. I thought that since I broke my promise to my dad of keeping what I saw a secret, I ruined the family. That’s what my dad said and that’s what my brother said.

My sister on the other hand was too young to understand. I guess we all were. But she blamed me for making our mom a zombie and turning our lives upside down.

After a few months, my mom took us to see our dad while he was in jail. He told my siblings this was my fault and they believed him. He told my mom I was lying and that he never did anything. He told her he was sorry and would make it up to her when he got out. She believed him.

I was scared of him though. I didn’t want him to get out because I knew that if he still blamed me for everything, then he would likely hit me again. I didn’t want to be hit again. My face was swollen for a week and my bruises lasted two. I was terrified of him.

When we moved into the one-bedroom apartment, I knew things would never be the same. My mom must have known too because she started to change. She started looking for work again after she got fired from her last job.

When my dad went to jail, my mom started getting all these letters from different people he owed money to. I remember hearing her up late at night, crying on the phone with my aunt about how she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t afford to pay his debts and the mortgage.

Instead of figuring it out, she let the bills stack up and we were kicked out and forced into the cramped apartment. Every time my mom would make a little bit of money, she said the government, banks, and debt collectors would steal it from her. 

When my dad finally got out of jail, he came to live with us. But every night he was fighting with my mom. Yelling at her because she didn’t give him money while he was in jail. He would say he had a bad time because my mom wouldn’t put money on his books like the other inmate’s wives.

He called her all sorts of names before storming out and not coming back until mid-day. He was always drunk, spending all the money on drugs and alcohol. We almost got kicked out of the apartment a couple of times because he took the rent money. Many days we went to bed hungry because my mom couldn’t afford to buy food and support my dad’s bad habits. It was hard.

My dad also kept lying in bed with other women. My mom found out because when she went to the doctor, they told her she had an infection and needed to take medicine for it. She yelled at my dad about it and each time he denied it.

But my mom knew she was right. She caught him plenty of times with other women. Including my aunt. My mom kicked him out and I begged her to not let him back in. She said she was done with him for good, but she always said that.

For a while, we didn’t see him and I finally started to believe she meant it when she said she wouldn’t let him back in. My brother’s birthday passed, then my mom’s, then my sister’s. When my ninth birthday came up, my dad showed up again. Though he wasn’t there for me. No, he had forgotten about my birthday.

He came knocking on the door with flowers in hand and a smile. He told my mom he’s changed and that he got help and was sober. She believed him and he started living with us again. For a few weeks, my dad didn’t yell at my mom. But when things got hard, he started pressuring her to find another job. That’s when she started working for Mr. Bates.