Chapter 2

Thirteen days before the Room.

Just a few days after my thirteenth birthday, my Mom got married to a man named Gregory. Now Gregory, or Daddy, as he ‘asked’ me to call him, was not a nice man. While it was true that he had treated my Mom like royalty, and his friends and others equally well, he treated me as little more than a parasite. His words, not mine. He hated me, and while he hid it well around others and even my Mom, he had no such restraint in showing his contempt for me, any time that he and I were alone. No matter how small and unimportant a grievance I made against him was, he would scream at me, berate me, and more than once, even strike me.

Last year he slapped me just simply for humming a song I liked while he was trying to watch the football game. He struck me so hard, that it left a red welt on my cheek. I had to lie to my Mom when she got home from work, telling her it was from soccer practice. All the while, he sat in the living room with his eyes glued to me, making sure I didn’t speak a bad word against him.

That was the first time he hit me, and it wouldn’t be the last. That was also the first moment that I realized just how much he hated my very existence. He had, after all, called me a parasite, and on the day of my thirteenth birthday no less. What kind of a person does that to a child? He didn’t give me a hug, nor a present or even a simple ‘Happy Birthday.’ No, instead what I got was being left humiliated, insulted, and scared.

I still remember that afternoon perfectly. It was the perfect day. A windy autumn afternoon, that was neither too warm nor too cold. The sun was out, and the skies were blue and clear. I thought that nothing could ruin a day like that, not even him. It was my thirteenth birthday, with a party where I was surrounded by all of my friends and family, and Greg, too. I didn’t think that given the circumstances, he’d even consider doing something to ruin it, but he did. I should’ve known something was up when he called me into the house for seemingly no reason.

I didn’t want to go, but my Mom heard my protests, and saw my hesitation and told me not to argue with him. I begrudgingly stomped inside, all alone with my soon-to-be stepdad.

The very moment I stepped inside, he shut the sliding doors behind us. I had just gotten out of the pool and was leaving a trail of water on the floor. He roughly grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside, just out of view of the glass. I protested and received in return a firm slap to my face and a comment on how I was a dirty girl, for making such a mess on the floor. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke, and knew he had been drinking in secret.