by Paige Dearth
Satisfied at having established that Emma understood his lack of tolerance for her illness, he turned to leave the bathroom. “Hurry up!” he snapped on his way out. “I’m hungry. You’ve played this sick card long enough!”
Once he was gone, Gracie quickly stepped into the bathroom to help her sister. “Emma, are you okay?” she whispered. “I think your nose is broken. I think you need to go to the hospital.”
Emma shook her head. “No, Gracie, I’m fine,” she told her. “I need to clean up here so I can go cook dinner. I don’t want him getting more upset than he is already.”
While Pepper had been brutalizing Emma, Valerie sat in her bedroom, polishing her toenails and brushing her long, silky hair. She was selfishly grateful for not being the target of his rage. Besides, she thought to herself, if Emma would just do what he wanted Pepper wouldn’t have to beat her so often.
Chapter Seven
For Emma’s thirteenth birthday, Mrs. Tisdale threw a small party for her after school. She invited Gracie, of course, along with her three sons, who were there more for the cake their mother had baked than for Emma. Nonetheless, they sang “Happy Birthday” and enjoyed big slices of the homemade chocolate cake that Mrs. Tisdale had lovingly decorated with chocolate icing and served with generous portions of vanilla ice cream. The girls were ecstatic; cake and ice cream wasn’t something they often had the pleasure of enjoying.
While Emma was happy that Mrs. Tisdale had thrown a party for her, she was just as disheartened that no one in her own family had thought of celebrating her birthday at home. Neither of her parents acknowledged her birthday in the morning before the girls left for school. Emma’s birthday was always an annual reminder of how Pepper’s dreams had been stolen from him and his life reduced to nothing.
At four thirty the two girls left Mrs. Tisdale’s house so that Emma would have enough time to get dinner ready for her parents. She knew how intensely her father hated her birthdays and the foul mood he would be in anyway. She did not want to provoke him further by not being right on schedule.
When Pepper got home from work an hour later, Emma had dinner ready for him to eat. Walking into the kitchen, he growled, “What the fuck is that nasty smell? What the hell did you make for dinner?”
A defeated Emma replied, “I made spaghetti with Ragu sauce. Your favorite, Daddy.”
“Who the hell said that’s my favorite?” he roared. “It smells like shit in here! Now you’re trying to serve me shit? It’s bad enough that I have to work all day so that this family of gluttons can eat. When I come home, I want to eat something that I like.”
It was becoming increasingly clear which way the evening would turn. Emma started to back away from him.
“But you always liked this meal before,” she protested timidly. “I thought it was your favorite.”
Without warning, Pepper stepped forward and struck her with the back of his hand. Emma staggered back from the impact of the blow. Her father turned to snatch up the pot of burning hot pasta from the stove, swung back around, and flung its contents at her.
“Now clean up this fucking mess and make me something decent to eat, you ungrateful little slob!” he snapped.
Gracie, who had been watching them from the doorway, rushed into the kitchen to help her sister, who was now covered in pasta and sauce. As she leaned over her, Pepper hauled her up by the back of her shirt and shoved her away roughly.
“You think you’re any better?” he snarled at his younger daughter. “What the fuck do you do around here to earn your keep?”
Shaking off everything that had just happened to her, Emma sprang to her feet. She was determined to save her kid sister from the agony and humiliation she’d grown to accept as a part of her own life. Protecting Gracie was the only thing she had left that made her feel like a human being.
“Gracie, go upstairs and get washed up,” she told her. “I’m going to cook something else for dinner. Go now!”
Annoyed that his older daughter had dared interfere in his mistreatment of her sister, Pepper grabbed Emma under the arm and began pulling her up the stairs to her bedroom.
“I’m sick and tired of you thinking that you can say and do whatever you want, you little whore!” he yelled. “It’s high time I taught you a good lesson!” He continued to scream at her until he had worked himself into a tizzy, like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. Then his animalistic urge took over. “Get undressed now!” he screamed, standing there, legs apart, watching her like a hawk.
By now Emma was familiar with the “rules.” They were the same every time her father took her up to her bedroom to hand out “punishment.” She took off all her clothes, just as he had demanded, and stood naked in front of him. Now that she was older, she was more conscious of her budding breasts and the small patch of pubic hair that had appeared over the last few months.
In the meantime, Pepper had removed his belt. As Emma looked on, he went to the bathroom and placed the leather under the open faucet until it was soaking wet. Waiting for him to come back into the bedroom, she was consumed with dread. She knew exactly what he was going to do to her and prayed for her own death before he came back into the room.
When Pepper returned, he ordered Emma to lie face down on the bed. Then he lifted his belt high into the air and brought it down with force across her bare back. The pain was unbearable as he whipped her mercilessly with the belt, the wet leather tearing through her young, tender flesh. The louder the groans that escaped through her gritted teeth, the more frenzied the nature of the lickings she got. The more her father beat her, the more his rage appeared to intensify. Nearly half an hour had passed when, exhausted from the effort of whipping her relentlessly, Pepper left the room.
This was a ritual that Emma had grown accustomed to. But this time, he had beaten her so long and hard, it had taken its toll, robbing her even of the tiny shred of humanity she had clung to so far.
Emma’s back and legs were bloodied and raw as she lay on her bed crying. Then she heard him scream at her to go downstairs and cook dinner. When she put her clothes back on, the fabric clung to her wet wounds. With each movement she made, it seemed as if layers of skin were being torn from her body. Barely able to walk now, she hobbled past her mother, who stood at the top of the stairs, a mute witness, as usual, to the atrocities being perpetrated under her very nose.
Emma stopped for a brief moment and looked at Valerie with burning eyes. “If you were a real mother,” she whispered, “you would at least try to stop him, but you don’t. I hate you almost as much as I hate him, but you probably disgust me more.”
Valerie stood there, irritated by her daughter’s harsh words. Her eyes followed the girl limping down the stairs to cook the family dinner. She prayed that Emma wouldn’t give Pepper any shit. Once again, her fear mounted of Pepper being sent to prison for killing his daughter. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her husband.
After Pepper had filled his belly and the dishes had been cleaned that night, Gracie followed her older sister up to the bathroom. She helped Emma get into the tub and gently washed the fresh wounds on her back. Gracie had never seen her sister subjected to such brutality before. As she helped Emma into bed, she said, “I love you, Em. Someday we’re going to leave this stupid house and never come back. We won’t ever have to see either of them again.”
Gracie’s words played in Emma’s mind as she tried to fall asleep. There was nothing she wanted more than to never see her parents again. She didn’t know exactly how or when, but she believed that one day they would break loose of the shackles that held them to their parents.
Chapter Eight
The next day, Mrs. Tisdale saw Emma hobbling up the street after stepping off the school bus. Gracie was by her side. The girls walked in silence until they reached her.
“Child, why are you limpin’ like that?” the old lady asked. “What’s wrong whit cha?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Tisdale,” Emma lied. “I fell down the steps
last night and hurt myself. I’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Tisdale placed her large hands on her hefty round hips. “Don’t you give me none of that crap!” she huffed indignantly. “Get yourself in my house right now! We need to have a little chat. Come on, Gracie! You comin’ too.”
The girls followed her inside and Mrs. Tisdale guided Emma to a chair.
“Now, let me take a look at those injuries of yours,” she commanded. “I want to make sure everything is all right.”
Emma tried to squirm her way out of the situation, but realized it would do no good. Resigned, she gave in and raised her shirt so the old woman could see what her father had done to her.
Mrs. Tisdale’s breath caught in her throat. “What the fuck?” she said out loud, not meaning to. As she studied the zigzag of thick slashes, with blood and pus still seeping from her blistered skin, she couldn’t help blurting out, “Sweet Jesus! What the hell did that man do to you?”
Emma began to cry. Her chest heaved with great sobs and then with a feeling of relief that someone other than Gracie had confirmed what a cruel father Pepper was to her.
Mrs. Tisdale turned her attention to Gracie. “What happened to her, child?” she asked. “You’re telling me right now!”
In a voice strained with the fear that she had done something wrong, Gracie replied, “My father beat her because she made spaghetti for dinner. But Mrs. Tisdale, the last time Emma made spaghetti for dinner, he said it was his favorite meal. She didn’t try to piss him off. It was her birthday and she was trying to keep him from getting mad,” she finished, gasping through her sobs.
Mrs. Tisdale took Gracie in her arms. “It’s all right, baby,” she soothed. “We’re gonna get Emma taken care of here. Need to be sure there ain’t no infection in those cuts. Come on, now. You can help me.”
Mrs. Tisdale had Emma lie down on her sofa as she gently bathed the wounds with soap and water. Then she went to the kitchen and came back holding a jar of honey.
Emma was startled. “Wha-what are you going to do with that?” she asked apprehensively.
“Don’t cha worry none, child. See, this here is honey, and it’s gonna do lots of good things for ya. It’s gonna take away some of dat pain you have and take down that there swelling. It’s like putting a seal over the top of your exposed flesh; it’ll catch all the dirt and fibers from your shirt and keep those deep wounds moist while they heal. We’ll need to put this on every day until that raw skin gets better. Okay, baby?”
Emma nodded. She trusted Mrs. Tisdale and believed she knew what she was doing. And she was grateful to have such a kind and caring person in her life. Maybe she wasn’t so damned after all, Emma thought. She did have Mrs. Tisdale and Gracie in her life, didn’t she? She just wanted to stay there forever, with both of them as her only family. And she longed for the day she would never have to see her parents again.
That night, after the girls were asleep, Mrs. Tisdale strode across the street and softly tapped on the Murphys’ front door. Valerie was surprised to see her elderly neighbor standing outside when she opened the door. Mrs. Tisdale deliberately looked at Valerie from head to toe, as her expression turned to a slow simmer, finally locking eyes with her. Valerie found herself squirming under the old woman’s judgmental gaze. At that precise moment, Pepper stepped up behind his wife.
“Yeah, what do ya need?” he asked gruffly.
“What I need is for you to keep your goddamn hands off that child of yours!” the old woman growled with all the ferociousness of a lioness protecting her cub. “She don’t know I’m here and if I find out that you laid one finger on her because I came over here, you’ll have to deal with my sons. You listen real good now. I want you to stop what you’re doing to that poor child or I’ll call the cops.”
Pepper snorted, “Shut the fuck up, you old bat! No one tells me what to do with my own kids. Mind your own fucking business! I ain’t afraid of you and those bastard children of yours. Get the hell off my porch before I call the cops! And stay the hell away from my kids!”
Pepper slammed the front door shut and walked into the living room.
“Valerie!” he yelled. “Bring me a fucking beer—and be quick about it!”
Valerie hurried off to the kitchen, boiling over with annoyance at Emma for having gone to their bitch neighbor and telling her all their personal business. She thought about waking her eldest daughter so that she could tell her what an idiot she was, but decided to stew on it some more and tell Emma in the morning.
Mrs. Tisdale kept the incident to herself, never telling her sons, but kept a closer eye on Emma and Gracie. It seemed to her as though Pepper Murphy didn’t beat his older daughter after she had confronted him, for the child was more upbeat and happy. Emma’s back was healing nicely and the honey treatments had worked like a charm. She and Gracie were spending an hour every day at Mrs. Tisdale’s after school. The old woman gave them homemade cake or cookies she baked for them every morning. It was her own way of doing what she could to make the girls feel loved and wanted.
Chapter Nine
Over the next three months, Pepper seemed to back off from beating his daughters. While he still slapped Emma around, he refrained from indulging in the brutal beatings she had come to dread, especially after Mrs. Tisdale had, unbeknownst to Emma, confronted him. She still hated her father with a passion, and the daily slaps and blows were an ever-present reminder to her of the evil spirit that had infested his heart, mind, and soul.
On the Tuesday before Christmas break, as the girls strolled down to Mrs. Tisdale’s house from the school bus stop, Emma was surprised to not see her neighbor waiting on her porch for them as usual. She must be inside, she thought, busy getting a snack ready for us. The girls climbed the porch steps and knocked at her door. One of Mrs. Tisdale’s sons answered it. He looked disheveled and lost.
“Is Mrs. Tisdale here?” Emma asked.
“No, Emma,” was the reply. “My mama died last night in her sleep. She had a heart attack. The doctor said it was massive. She probably didn’t see it coming.”
Emma stared at him. She willed him to take back the words he’d just spoken. She wasn’t prepared to lose the old woman. Rejecting the thought that Mrs. Tisdale was gone, she took a small step toward the front door, but the large man blocked her from entering. “No, baby. She’s gone,” he said gently, “Mama ain’t here no more.”
Emma’s eyes fixed on his for several moments, and time stood perfectly still, then she dropped to her knees at his feet and burst into tears. She began to rock back and forth. She felt as though someone had reached down her throat and ripped out her heart. Gracie dropped next to her, and the young sisters clung to each other for a long time, feeling utterly lost, as if they had been orphaned. Finally Emma looked up at Mrs. Tisdale’s son whose eyes also glistened with tears from the deep loss they all shared and feeling useless in his ability to ease their pain.
“Listen, girls,” he said after composing himself, “I know things ain’t right for you with your papa, but you need to stay strong. My mama tried to help you as best she could, but now it’s up to you. Mama loved you a whole lot and she’d want you to be brave. Now go on home and do the best you can. Make my mama proud of you.”
Then he stepped inside the house and gently closed the door, leaving the two girls drenched in sorrow. Emma felt a hollowness inside that she had never known before. Mrs. Tisdale had provided her with the courage to face her demon and now she was left to battle him alone. The emptiness in the pit of her stomach made her long for the comforting arms of the old woman who had stood by them through thick and thin. Emma’s deep sadness filled every space inside of her as she realized that she had just lost the only person who loved her, apart from Gracie. In many ways, Mrs. Tisdale had been the mother she never had.
After slowly coming to her senses, Emma took Gracie by the hand and went home to start dinner. When their parents came home, Emma told them what had happened to Mrs. Tisdale.
“Decrepi
t old fool!” Pepper gurgled through a swig of beer. “I couldn’t stand that old bat!” Then, as he noticed Emma’s grief over their neighbor’s death, her father started to laugh, loud and hard. The sound grated on Emma’s nerves and made her want to stab him with the blunt butter knife she was holding.
“You brainless moron!” her father taunted her. “What, did you think that ancient hag was going to live forever and protect you from me?”
Disgusted by the words he had spewed, Emma couldn’t help retorting, “How could you be so mean? She was the only person who ever cared about Gracie and me!”
The look of fury that came over her father’s face prompted Emma to try and flee from the kitchen and race up to her bedroom. But Pepper was already blocking the doorway. Emma recognized the familiar evil look on her father’s face. She suspected that with Mrs. Tisdale gone, things would go back to the way they had been earlier. As Pepper towered over her, she tried her best to stand tall against the bogeyman who threatened to destroy her. But her bravery was short-lived. His first blow was aimed at her temple.
She awoke a short while later on her bed, naked, face down, arms and legs tied to her bedposts.
Pepper waited until she was fully awake so that she could see him pull his belt from the bucket of water he had placed beside her bed. With each thrashing, he dipped the belt into the water, getting ready for the next lash. When he was done, he grabbed a handful of her long blond hair and hacked it off close to her head. She watched in a stupor as he scattered the strands across the room. As he finished, he sat on the floor next to her bed, breathing hard as he took several long swigs from his coveted bottle of vodka.
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and struggled to his feet again. She watched as, swaying drunkenly, he began to move closer to her. When he was right next to her bed, Pepper unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. As he removed his boxers, her heart began to pound so hard in her chest she thought she, too, was having a heart attack. She considered calling out to Gracie for help, but stopped short, fearing that their father might harm her sister. Emma screamed in pain as Pepper climbed on top of her and raped her, his fingers digging roughly into the open flesh on her back. She knew her mother heard her screaming and had no hope that she would rescue her from the madman.