My Life, Beaten
Author: IAmTheRealET

Chapter 8
Dinner and a Beating

  Author's Note:

  This here chapter is written especially for my bestest friend Dreamheart whose birthday was yesterday but I was busy so I'm writing it now.  It would be amazing if you readers reading this would go to any one of her four stories (Closed Windows, Open Windows, Don't Tell, ...and something else I don't remember the name of (not the title!)) and would write something along the lines of HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! and say IAmTheRealET sent you.  Thanks and love!


  I was my mother that night in a suit and tie.  She said I should always "dress to impress" or for success or something that rhymes with dress.  But when I showed up at the Wess' house Mrs. Wess was wearing sweat pants at the door.  I entered to see almost everyone else in similar outfits.  Mr. Wess even had on a shirt that said "Love Stinks" with a dog sniffing another dog's...masterpiece and puppy pajama pants on. 

  Actually, Madeline (I think, I still couldn't tell them apart very well,) was the only one not in pajamas.  She had a pink butterfly barret in her hair that made her blonde hair even blonder.  Her blue blouse was ruffled and her skinny jeans made her look very pretty. 

  "Wow, Henry, hon.  You didn't have to dress up," Mrs. Wess said looking embaressed of her family.

  "Yeah, well, my Mom made me."

  "Oh," she said, looking around sheepishly.  "Well, dinner's about ready, if you'd like to sit down."  We all took places around the table, Mr. Wess at one end and Mrs. Wess at the other.  A boy who I assumed to be Matthew sat to the right of Mr. Wess, as well as Silly.  To the right on Mrs. Wess were the twins, Mady and Julia. 

  I took a seat next to Mady.  "Don't get too close or she'll be making out with you," Julia mumbled.  I laughed it off, thinking it might take some of the awkwardness away but everybody just stared at me. 

  Everybody grabbed hands and Mrs. Wess said a prayer I assumed was grace.  Something about thank you God for the food we've been given.  Then of course there was Amen.  Comming from an abusive Protestant family I had never said grace before and was glad Mrs. Wess hadn't asked me to say it, I wouldn't know where to begin. 

  Then everybody grabbed for the chicken, peas, and mashed potatoes.  I must say, the food was delectible.  The talking, not so much.  "So, Henry," Mrs. Wess said swallowing a bite of potatoes.  "You and Samantha have really been kicking it off, have you?"  I saw Mady whither back into her chair.

  "Well...I think we'll be good friends."

  This time she perked up and said, "So, do you think you'll be over more often?"

  "You mean more often then when my parents drop something?"  Confused looks surrounded the table.  ""

  "So, Henry and I are going to work on a...project...together, Mom.  So, I'll probably be home next weekend, too.  Okay?" Silly asked.

  "Of course, darling.  So, what type of project is it?"

  "Uhh, a...boyscout project.  Henry's working at the shelter for community service."

  "Oh, Henry, what troup are you part of?  I've been thinking about signing Matthew up for boyscouts."

  Both Matthew and I threw Silly an angry look.  "Uhh, it's more of an individual thing."  The rest of dinner I avoided talking.  I think Mr. Wess said something about Matthew failing a test.  Then I went home.


  I was in bed that night, deep in sleep when he came.  "So, we've met a new friend have we?" my dad asked and punched me in the stomach.  I groaned, but that might have made things worse.  Right then and there he took a lighter from his pocket, lit a cigarette, blew smoke in my face, then burned my arm.  Then he took the cigarette from my arm and jabbed it under my eye.  "What'll she think of that?  'You're such a klutz.'  Ha!"

  Dad threw me to the ground on my stomach, took the lamp from my bedside table and threw it down on my back.  The broken glass opened up the old scars on my back from the whip.  "You know this is your own damn fault.  You should have been at dinner.  Instead you went next door.  Tonight was supposed to be your mother's night.  But, what can I really say?"  And with that he flipped me over, took out a knife from his back pocket, cut right below my rib cage, and left the room.

  It burned.  Oh, God, it burned.  But what could I do?  Why couldn't God have any mercy and let me die tonight?  Oh, right, he never had, never would.



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