The Baby Chronicles

by Beatrice Bruno

  His next step of physically abusing Emma quickly ended when he woke up one night staring down the barrel of Emma’s daddy’s shotgun. Emma held the gun and her parents stood behind her should she require any help. That night Albert found he wasn’t as brave as the liquor made him.

  He easily found a more willing and sure victim in his oldest daughter, Margarette Ann. He could yell at her, swear at her, threaten her—she did whatever he asked. He could come in drunk after work and this one would buckle down in fear and make him feel as he was supposed to feel—like a man.

  Pretty soon, when the other children came along, Albert terrorized all of them in the evenings after work. He felt no remorse. These were his children, born for his pleasure! He would treat them any way he wanted, he reasoned. He felt powerful as he wielded his anger at life on his children. Soon, though, that wasn’t enough.

  Emma began to find Albert repulsive in more ways than one. She shunned his drunken intimate overtures as they progressively became more and more abusive during times of intimacy. Albert quickly tired of her behavior.

  He frequented the bars in the surrounding towns. Amazingly, he remained faithful to his marital vows. As he increasingly drank and physically abused his children, he subconsciously knew that the situation had to reach a peak. It was as though he couldn’t stop himself …

  In the Unseen …

  “Molester, come forth,” the command came out of the darkness surrounding the Wells house. The Prince of the Power of the Air held court and divvied out the assignments for this season concerning Albert Wells.

  “Yes, my lord,” came the heavy reply. The deep voice of Molester reverberated in the Halls of Darkness as he stood before his master. Molester was ugly beyond belief. Because he was so hideous, he rarely showed his face. This was acceptable since only his actions were needed to accomplish the plans of darkness, not his face.

  “It is time for you to make your presence known in the Wells household,” his master explained.

  The prince had watched for some time now as the situation deteriorated in the once Christian family. Now the man no longer attends church services, the devil sneered.

  He had bombarded this family with anger, abuse, cursing, debt, and all other manner of evil since the birth of Margarette Ann. At one time, they had been able to resist the onslaught. As time went on, the devil kept the pressure up and increased it.

  He knew the destiny of Margarette Ann. She was to be a preacher just like her grandmother except even more powerful. Satan was bound and determined to not let that happen.

  Because of the way her life was unfolding, the child had stopped believing in God. After being enrolled in a Catholic school to receive a religious education, Margarette Ann found more verbal and physical abuse in school because of her shyness. The nuns at the school targeted Margarette Ann because she did not desire to participate as much as the other children.

  Margarette Ann never said a word. She suffered in silence. She believed the God she had heard so much about, the God Granny said loved her so much, had deserted her. She couldn’t see Him in anything concerning her. Beaten at home and beaten at school, Margarette Ann was afraid to say anything about any of it, afraid she would receive more beatings if she did.

  Satan sent Suicide to the child once she turned twelve and could understand. The urge around her to commit suicide was strong. Fortunately, something always held her back from the act. Margarette Ann began nicking herself with a little penknife she found. She experienced strange pleasure from cutting her body in places only she knew about.

  One night she placed the dull edge of the blade across her wrist. She imagined pressing the blade through her skin to the vein. In her mind, she could see the blood squirting out of her body. Then she thought about her mama finding her dead and couldn’t bear the thought.

  Margarette Ann seemed to withdraw from life as Albert’s abuse continued and worsened. She attempted to keep the younger children from going through what she went through by getting them to bed early before their father got home. It worked for the most part.

  Satan had tired of playing around with this family. He needed something significant to happen to drive the child over the edge and even further away from God.

  “Molester,” he commanded, “this is what I have for you to do in this household.” He conspired with this expert demon.

  In the Seen …

  Meanwhile in the Wells house, Anger and Profanity were having a wonderful time with Albert and his children. Albert had come home earlier than usual, more drunken than usual.

  “Margarette Ann,” he yelled, crashing through the front door of the house. He threw his belongings everywhere as he entered the house, bellowing for his oldest daughter. “Mar-ga-rette Ann,” he yelled again, emphasizing each syllable of her name. Albert wanted to make sure she was good and scared by the time she stood before him.

  Margarette Ann cringed as she heard the voice she had come to fear.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered in dismay. “He’s home early!” She cringed again as he yelled her name even louder the second time. She hadn’t quite finished feeding the children and getting them ready for bed. JR and Annie had already eaten. They were sitting in front of the TV in their pajamas looking at Lassie.

  “Turn that so-and-so television off,” Albert cursed as his two youngest children scrambled to get out of his way.

  Annie trembled, tears rolling down her pale cheeks as Albert strode over to her. She wanted to scream but remembered the last time she screamed and how his huge hand had slapped her across her face.

  Margarette Ann hurried to the living room in time to snatch Annie off the floor as JR ran to hide behind her. Her dad stood there with a look of triumph. He knew he had won another round of “scare the kids to death.”

  That was the name he had given his drunken games with the children. Albert knew he would get away with every bit of harassment he poured out on his kids out of frustration.

  Albert learned to skillfully threaten his children in a way they dared not tell his wife what went on when she wasn’t at home. And it worked well. In the beginning of the terror, the children were able to spring back from his bouts by the weekend as though nothing had happened. As time progressed, the children became more and more scarred by the emotional and physical abuse.

  Albert taught himself to never leave marks on “Emma’s precious children,” as he snidely referred to them. She had threatened to leave him more than once if she ever found out he was abusing his privileges as a father. And of course he didn’t want to look like a failure as a father in addition to his other perceived failures.

  So he learned different tactics for terrorizing them. One evening while feeling particularly carefree, he locked the youngest in the woodshed for an hour after dark. Annie screamed until she was hoarse. Albert laughed his head off as Margarette Ann, sounding like her mother, begged him to let little Annie out of the woodshed. She hadn’t done anything, Margarette Ann kept telling him. But he’d decided it was his right to do what he wanted to do to and with his kids when he wanted to do it. He continued his rampage.

  “Get those kids in the bed, Margarette Ann. And get my dinner on the table,” he commanded the frightened girl.

  Margarette Ann quickly scurried down the hall holding Annie with Cindy and JR in tow. She made quick work of sponging Cindy off since she hadn’t had a bath yet. She had the younger three in bed in a little over fifteen minutes before her dad yelled out her name again.

  “Margarette Ann … get my dinner!” he yelled at the running child.

  She quickly thought, What have I done to deserve this?

  FORTY TWO

  Margarette Ann could not understand how or why her dad had become such a mean-spirited man. He treated her mom and his children like so much garbage. He had been doing this for about three, maybe four years. As she scampered to the kitchen to heat her father’s meal, she thought back over her life.

  When she was between six and eight, she reme
mbered her dad as sweet and loving. She was the only child then. Life was good. They attended church on Sunday followed by family dinner at either a grandparent’s house or at one of her aunt’s or uncle’s homes. They always ended up staying over well into the evening after homemade ice cream and cake.

  Those were good times, Margarette Ann remembered. She spooned steaming gravy over the boiled potatoes and chicken on her dad’s plate, adding green beans and a good-sized hunk of cornbread. She hurriedly set it on the table as her dad grunted his way into the kitchen. He sat down as she placed a glass of iced tea on the table by his plate.

  “Get that blasted iced tea away from me, you little … go out to my truck and get me a beer,” he ordered the frightened child. He wanted to curse at her but restrained himself.

  Without realizing it, Margarette Ann attempted to remind Albert, “Daddy, Mama don’t like you bringing …”

  Before she finished the statement, Margarette Ann realized her mistake.

  “What the …” Albert stood up angrily from the table. His action caused the iced tea to slosh over the sides of the glass and onto the table. “This is my house! I am the man of this house, little girl, and you would do well to remember that,” Albert roared as he menacingly yelled at her across the table. He started around the table but suddenly changed his mind as pure rage entered his heart.

  “Go get me a beer out of my truck, girl, before I do something to you.”

  Albert sat back down, abusive thoughts filling his mind. He drank in the thoughts and emotions he experienced. He allowed them to consume him in much the same way he consumed the food on the table before him.

  The girl quickly ran outside to his truck. She got what he demanded and ran back to the kitchen, quickly setting the can on the table.

  Not wanting to create any more confusion, Margarette Ann quietly said to Albert, “Daddy, I’m gonna go take my bath so I can go to bed if it’s all right with you. I’ll wash your dishes when I finish, Daddy.”

  A funny look crossed Albert’s face as he stared at his daughter.

  “No,” he said harshly. “You stand right there ’til I finish my food,” Albert ordered. “Then I’ll tell you when you can take a bath,” he said as he stuffed another forkful into his mouth.

  Taking a swig of beer before continuing his meal, Albert relished the wave of fear coming from his daughter. He felt the power of her fear. He would show her, he would show them all, he assured himself confidently. He was tired of feeling less than a man in his own house. He would show Miss High and Mighty Emma Wells he was still the man around here.

  In the Unseen …

  Frustration buzzed around Albert’s head as he ate his food and drank his beer. Stewing in his mind was the contemplation of what he would do to further scare his daughter. Frustration knew each dirty button to push to manipulate Albert as he became more and more bothered at not being able to do what he wanted to do in his own house.

  No stranger to Albert, Anger accompanied Frustration as Albert finished his meal. Anger had worked on Albert for quite some time. He could see that all his work had not been in vain. He could see that the full fruit of his deeds was ready to manifest. This family was ready to be destroyed. It was only a matter of time.

  In the Seen …

  Albert finished his meal. He angrily shoved the dishes across the table toward the frightened child. As she washed the dishes with her back to him, he slowly drank the beer. He did not want to become any more intoxicated than he already was. Albert enjoyed the moment of intense fear and angst he was causing Margarette Ann. He wanted the moment to last for a while.

  As Margarette Ann finished cleaning the kitchen, Albert glanced at the clock on the wall above the sink. Humph, only seven o’clock. Four hours before Emma came home from work. Plenty of time to make this the most memorably frightening night of Margarette Ann’s miserable fourteen years.

  Margarette Ann turned apprehensively from the sink. She never knew what to expect from her father anymore. He grew progressively more unpredictable as his drinking increased and he became angrier with life.

  “Daddy, I’m done,” she said quietly, casting her eyes to the floor.

  “Go take your bath then,” he answered snidely. He continued sitting at the table nursing his beer.

  For one split second as he swirled the last bit of beer around in the can, Albert wondered why he acted so mean and hateful to his family. If he were to be honest, he didn’t know why he did half the stuff he did to his family, especially his kids. Sometimes he felt good doing these things. Other times he felt so bad, he cried himself to sleep before Emma came home from work. Tonight was not one of those nights.

  Albert listened as Margarette Ann turned off the water in the tub. He heard the bathroom door close quietly as she prepared to get into the tub. He waited.

  Margarette Ann hung her pajamas on the back of the bathroom door. She hadn’t heard her dad leave the kitchen so she guessed he was still drinking his beer. Why, she wondered, is he acting this way? None of them had done anything to him. Yet, he treated them all so badly.

  As she climbed into the bubbles in the tub, she heard her dad’s footsteps coming down the hall, hopefully going off to bed. Many nights he just fell into the bed in a drunken stupor, still wearing his filthy clothes. When Emma arrived home, she’d take a look at the sleeping form of her husband in disgust and pity. She would often opt to sleep on the couch instead of disturbing him.

  Margarette Ann listened as his footsteps came closer to the bathroom door. Expecting the steps to continue past the door, she relaxed a little as she allowed the bubbles to close around her thin body. She never heard the door open but she felt her father’s eyes.

  Jerking upright but not enough for her upper body to be exposed, Margarette Ann shockingly realized that Albert was in the bathroom.

  “Daddy, what is it?” she asked. She felt uncomfortable as he stared at her.

  “Get out of the tub and go to bed!” he yelled. “Now!” he commanded, emphasizing the word.

  Startled, Margarette Ann prepared to get out of the tub. Realizing she would have to get up to get her towel, she respectfully waited for her dad to close the door.

  “What are you waiting for?” he shouted. He knew the problem but enjoyed her discomfort. “Hurry up!” he rushed her as he continued to stand in the doorway.

  “Daddy, I was waiting for you to close the door because my towel is over there,” Margarette Ann explained, pointing to the towel rack on the wall by the door.

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, little girl,” he said boldly. “So don’t you sass me,” he said as she protested. “As many times as I’ve changed your diaper, I’ve seen your naked behind before. Now get out of the tub,” he said defiantly, daringly. Albert felt a surge of power as his temper flared.

  “Daddy, would you please give me my towel, then?” Margarette Ann pleaded. She did not know what else to do.

  “Get it yourself,” he replied belligerently.

  Margarette Ann slowly stood. She attempted to cover as much of her nakedness with her face cloth as she could. It didn’t help. She suffered embarrassment and felt belittled as her father’s eyes tracked her every move. Grabbing for the towel from the rack, Margarette Ann reveled in the privacy it offered as she wrapped it around her body. Albert watched his daughter, wanting to stop yet wanting to continue. He felt it was wrong, knew it was wrong. As always, he couldn’t help himself.

  Joyce

  FORTY THREE

  Alabama: June 1973

  Big Mama, Jeffrey is changing so much,” thirteen-year-old Joyce shared with her grandmother, Ethel Jones. “All he wants to do now is hang out with those old boys at home. And they’re horrible,” she explained. Her ponytails bobbed as she animatedly discussed her brother with her grandmother.

  Ethel knew about the thugs Joyce spoke of. Ree had already warned her about the changes coming over both Jeffrey and Joyce. Ree had caught Jeffrey a number of times with bundles of money and bags
of drugs he delivered for some thugs in their neighborhood. Marie was at her wit’s end trying to figure out a way to get her children out of that atmosphere.

  Not that Joyce was a goody-goody by any means. Ree had come home from work several times to discover Joyce with an apartment full of friends, boys and girls, some much older than she. As time went on, Joyce also began sneaking off after sweet-talking her mother into letting her spend the night at a girlfriend’s house. Of course, there was never a girlfriend. But Joyce found ways to hang out all hours of the night with a fast group of kids.

  Ethel considered her newly-teenaged granddaughter. Since she had found out about these two children thirteen years ago, she and Homer had never looked back. All of Marie’s brothers and sisters and their families pitched in to help Marie with the upbringing of the twins. Every three or four months or so, someone traveled from Alabama to New York to help Marie with the twins for a couple of weeks or to bring the twins back and forth between the two states, allowing Marie to grow in her job as a paralegal.

  An extremely tight-knit family, all their relationships grew even stronger as time went on. The twins spent every summer and various other holidays throughout the year with their grandparents. They were able to grow up with their assortment of cousins in Alabama.

  Since the day Homer picked up his youngest daughter and her twins at the train station in Atlanta, the love never stopped pouring out from them to Marie and these beautiful babies. Many extended family members believed Ree had “messed up” her life by becoming involved with some “old jack-leg gigolo” in New York and having babies without being married. Some of her elderly aunts and uncles advised Homer and Ethel to just let her lie in the bed she had created and not give her any help.