My Name is B***h
By Anonymous, Orrville, OH
Author's note: Comment. Please.
Chapter 3: My Little B***hHis singsong voice rang through her head. She slid around the corner away from the kitchen, “Bitchy, bitchy, bitchh,” he sang.
Jane held back the tears, not knowing what to do. Howard was blocking the only way out.
“I hear you girl. I hear you B****.” He calls.
Jane holds her breath. Halts her thoughts, because if there was one thing Howard was good at, was reading the thoughts of his own daughter. They seemed
Like for instance, she knew he was about to come around her corner so she ducked into the dining room. Well… the room that used to be the dining room, now it was cluttered with empty beer bottles and 6-pack Budweiser carriers. She had tried to keep it clean, but the bottles and the carriers found their way there too often to even attempt it.
But, in the end, the same mindset always was a bust for Jane. She could never stop hiding. Never stop trying to find a real home; he would always know where she went.
Jane was running out of time and corners to turn around, so she made the most irrational decision she has ever made. She locked her self into the nearest closet. She was hoping she would wait Howie out, maybe until he passed out of Budweiser and some Absolut.
The distinct ‘click’ of the lock on the closet made her feel safe, a way to remind her that there were safe places out there.
The reminder didn’t last long.
Howard’s fist crashed through the door, sending splinters this way and that, leaving a good-sized hole. His whole arm reached through, feeling for the lock on the doorknob.
Jane shrank against the back of the closet, hoping she can crawl far enough back to be safe.
Howard forced open the door, an almost evil laugh piercing through her ears.
He leaned forward, brushing past all of her mother’s coats, and grabbed her hair.
“B****,” he whispered in her ear.
Jane only whimpered, never courageous enough to whisper back her only hurtful words.
“I hoped you liked that little mark I gave you on your stomach. A nice little reminder of your good ole’ dad, huh?”
She remained silent.
“Answer me, b****.” Venom leaked through his words.
“Y-yes,” She stammered.
“Yes what?” he murmured lovingly into her ear.
Jane clenched her teeth, “Yes, it will be a good little remainder of you.”
Howie let out a gut-wrenching howl of laughter and released Jane’s hair. She toppled to the carpet, letting her face break her fall.
She stayed like that for minutes, hours even, when finally she lifted her head to find the gray carpet (originally white), stained with blood.
She felt around her hairline, the whole way around her head. The blood dried from her left ear back to the middle of her skull and after running her hands through her hair a few times; found a clumps of hair threaded between her fingers.
She clamped back the tears, and rushed to the bathroom, quiet enough to not disturb her father, where ever he may be.
The bathroom mirror reflected a bald spot when she lifted her hair, a small chunk missing from her otherwise beautiful hair. Jane’s eyes watered, blurring her vision and blurring the dark movement in the corner of her eye.
The dark movement turned into a dark man, who immediately slapped her on the face so hard that she fell. Hitting the sink with head, Jane blacked out, but not before Howard bent and into her ear he said, “sleep tight, “ pushing her hair behind her ear, “my little b****.”