A Writer s Contract Twisted Inspiration

LISA FERNANDO

I heard smashing from downstairs in the middle of the night, and it woke me up. Was I asleep for so long? That noise literally brought me back to reality.

Who else could be in the house except my father? Ever since my mom gave birth to me, she abandoned me and left with another man. It was quite complicated, and I heard rumours that she didn't want to give birth to a child, and my father didn't respect her decision.

He forced her and manipulated his way into making her pregnant with me. He removed the condom while he slept with her, and she didn't know. The thought of it made me angry, but the noise coming from downstairs made me angrier.

I turned over and covered my head with a pillow, trying to block out my father's noises, but it just wasn't working. This is what I go through every night, because he blames me for her leaving. He constantly tells me she wouldn't have left if she wasn't pregnant for him with me.

I didn't want to go outside to check up on him because, no matter what I did, he'd always hate me. I heard him stomping upstairs, and it seemed like he was holding a drink.

I laid there motionless, thinking that maybe if I stay still, he won't remember to enter my room. He had removed and seized the lock of my room door, so I couldn't close it at all, and he could come in at any time. He was so creepy and obsessed with me. Every night, he'll stroll straight through my door to see if I'm in bed and then go back into his. He always referred to me as a slut even though I was just a stripper.

Before I became a stripper, he would call me a slut who seduced men for money, but I wasn't. I was just an innocent schoolgirl until he made me into the stripper I am today.

The door smacked into the wall behind it after it swung open. The mighty figure of my father stood in the doorway, and I could tell he was also holding a whip.

My heart skipped a beat, but I was determined to play it off. Keeping the pillow in front of me as a hopeful barrier, I had pretended to be asleep while at the same time watching his every move. He stood for a while like he always did every night, but tonight was different; he stumbled closer, and I knew that even though I should fight back and run for my life, he would still find me and hurt me. I waited for him to approach closer while I laid there.

As soon as he reached my side, he paused, and my heart rate increased rapidly. I closed my eyes tightly this time around, but it was all useless.

He took hold of my hair, yanked me from the bed, and threw me down on the hard wood floor. "Fucking slut... You think I don't know you sleep with men for money, you fucking slut!"

My eyes were wide open this time, and I was staring into his angry eyes. "I'm not...."

There was no use denying it.

And then the kicks started. "Don't lie to me, you slut! That's why your mom left me. She left me because she gave birth to a baby. When you were just two years old, you seduced your own dad."

And now, I could tell he was drunk! At age 2, I couldn't even do anything.

He continued complaining, "The house is a fucking mess," in between kicking me. Suddenly, the bottle of alcohol he was holding plummeted to the floor, fracturing into a multitude of glimmering shards. He staggered back as the sharp pieces of glass exploded outward, one of the broken shards finding me and causing a deep gash on my leg, a searing pain surging through my body. The adrenaline coursing through my veins made the pain more unbearable, and I clutched their wounded leg, scared that he would do more violent things to me.

I had no idea who made him angry but he seemed to have made me his punching bag.