Give Me Grace

Chapter 4

Part Two

Warning! Strong language.

On my eleventh birthday, Mr. Bates hired a few men looking for work to help out on the farm so we could take the day off. There was a local fair that I wanted to go to, so he took us. No one knew where my dad was at the time, probably somewhere getting drunk, so we went without him. It was the best birthday I had ever had.

We stayed there all day and all night because I wanted to go on all the rides and play all the games. By the time we got home, it was late, far past the time we’d all be in bed. My dad was sitting outside on the porch, drunk and half asleep. Mr. Bates didn’t trust him with a key, so he usually stole my mom’s when he snuck out.

When we saw him there on the porch, Mr. Bates instructed us all to go inside. My dad tried to stop us and forcefully grabbed my arm as he blocked our path through the door.

“You conniving little cunt. Do you think you’re someone special? I see the way you cling to that old bastard. He can’t help you,” he spat in my face.

“Stop it! You’re hurting me!” I cried, but he didn’t care. 

“Let go of her!” My mom yelled. 

“Shut up, bitch! It’s her fault we ended up like this in the first place!”

In a blink of an eye, Mr. Bates hit my dad in the back with a baseball bat. My dad, angry, let go of me and turned to him in a fury. He tried to attack Mr. Bates, but Mr. Bates hit him again. This time in the stomach. I had no idea where he got the bat, but I was glad he had it.

“Get off my property or else I will have you arrested. Those are your only two options,” Mr. Bates said calmly but firmly.

“Or option three is I kill you and my whore of a wife. Matter of fact, I’ll kill everyone!” My dad laughed maniacally.

“Take the kids inside,” Mr. Bates told my mom before looking back at my dad. My dad tried to stop us but he hit him again with the bat. “The kids don’t need to see this.”

“Fine, whatever. If you want to die first, so be it. But once I’m done with you, I’m going to fuck my wife one last time, then we’ll all die together!”

I was terrified. I knew my dad didn’t care about anyone or anything, and he would go as far as hurting us. But I was also scared for Mr. Bates. He was in no shape to take on my dad. The moment we got into the house, I ran to the phone and called the police.

My mom and siblings were begging me not to, saying I would only make things worse. But what was worse than dying? I just turned eleven. Mr. Bates told me I could be whatever I wanted and do anything when I grew up. And there was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to live like Mr. Bates did. See the world and try new things. I wanted a life that was better than the one I was living.

I couldn’t accomplish that if I was dead. Maybe my mom didn’t care about dying, and maybe my siblings didn’t believe our dad would go that far, but I did. I knew better. My dad wasn’t just drunk. I’ve seen him drunk many times, but this was different. He was on something. I didn’t know what. But it was clear he was more than drunk. And in that state, there was nothing stopping him from following through on his word.

We heard a couple of bangs and a thud before everything went silent. None of us were brave enough to go outside to find out what happened. Minutes later, I saw the reflection of police lights shining through the window as they pulled up. 

As much as I tried, I couldn’t hear what the policemen were saying, but after a while, Mr. Bates walked in without a scratch. He told us everything was going to be okay and that we didn’t have to worry anymore. He motioned for my mom to follow him into the room so they could speak privately and told us to go to bed.

We listened. Quickly, we ran to our room and got in bed. We didn’t know what happened that night, but my dad didn’t come back. Not for a while. Mr. Bates later told me that he sent my dad somewhere to get help, though I wished he sent him back to prison, or the grave.

My dad showed up about a year later and things were different. Mr. Bates only allowed him back in if my mom was okay with it, which she was. She always was. But he did change, for the better. He helped without being told to. He didn’t argue with my mom as much and he wasn’t sneaking out. He was nicer to my mom, which she was happy about and for the first time, it felt like we were a real family. But every good thing comes to an end. And this was no different