The Savior of the Wolves

Human Life (part 1)

~ Jessica’s POV ~ 

On most days, I just sit here studying my classes on this little screen. I have to use every second I can get to finish my assignments. I never know when I’ll be told to do something else that will take me away from my studies. It’s been made abundantly clear that my schoolwork isn’t a priority.

Every time my father returns home, my heartbeat almost instantly begins to reverberate within my own head. 

Can he hear it? What a pitiful thought.

Even though I fight it, my breathing even intensifies with the fear of knowing his anger is deep-seated lately. No matter how quiet, or behaved, or obedient, he looks for anything to abuse me over. He has to take his anger out on someone. Unfortunately for me, I’m all there is left. 

He announced, weeks ago, that he expected his house to be silent from now on. At all times. I was no longer allowed to talk to him unless spoken to first. He had no idea that to me, that was not a punishment. 

At first, I felt a bit relieved that we wouldn’t speak. But, as the silence grew, I grew terrified to cough or sneeze now when he was home. I made that mistake once and he accused me of trying to find a way around his new rule. He said I faked the cough. So, no dinner for me that night. How ludicrous. Truth is, I would’ve nearly suffocated myself to avoid making any sound near him now. I sure as hell wouldn’t do it to test his resolve. But reasoning with him was a thing of the past. He was oblivious to anything rational now. So, I didn’t eat and didn’t say another word about it.

Now, every single day, I wait for his temper to de-escalate. I avoid him, stay busy with schoolwork and I ONLY do chores when he is at work. No noises!    

After my stepmom left him, my father became excessively violent. Well, he was violent before, but she got the brunt of it. I don’t think, as a teenager, I could ever imagine what she was going through behind closed doors. Now, it seems to be my turn because he’s not leaving anything to the imagination now. 

I realized that my life had gone from horrible to hell when I first asked a question without him speaking first. The back of his hand cut through the distance between us like a deadly snake. It struck me so fast that I had no idea what had happened. As I laid on the floor, my face stinging as though I had actually been bitten, I looked up to realize that he had struck me with every ounce of force he had. As the tears rolled down my face, I sniffled, and he stormed at me to be silent. I choked on the remaining tears as he ordered me to my room.

“I can’t stand to look at you,” he bellowed.

As I walked into my room, I could see why he said that. I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed my floor-length mirror and took a step back for a second look. My entire left cheek bore the imprinted swelling of his entire right hand. He was such a coward that he didn’t want to see me…see the evidence of his flawed character…his ugliness…not mine.

So this is my life now. 

The same week that my stepmom left, he removed me from my high school and enrolled me in the Virtual Public School system. He didn’t do it for my own good. He realized that when a minor child wore his marks, he couldn't just let me go out in public. He didn’t want social services showing up on his doorstep. So I was no longer allowed to go out.

His mental state is frantic now. Desperate. I worry more every single day about my safety. The physical abuse is almost tolerable. I don’t cry anymore. I don’t make eye contact. I just endure it and remind myself that this will all be over soon. 

What scares the hell out of me is the look in his eyes now. It doesn’t bother him to hurt me. There’s no depth or sadness. I don’t believe anyone would believe me if I told them that now he even smiles after he knocks me to the floor. I don’t worry about him hitting me. I can get back up. I always do. I worry about how far he’ll take it. 

I think about running away almost every second of the day. If it weren’t sad enough, I have nothing. No money. No one to go to. No one will believe the stories I tell. They’re too horrific. They might send me right back to him. What would he do then? So I will hold on. Just a little while longer. I just have to reach eighteen years old. 

I read the insurance policy. He doesn’t know that I know about it. But he receives monthly payments until I become of age. Eighteen! Then the money is mine. I’ll leave and get my own place...far away from here. Finish online school. Go to college. My grades are excellent. I can do whatever I want.

I have a plan now. That’s what makes all this hell endurable.

***

The final weeks passed. I was going to make it. Something deep inside of me would not allow me to give up. No matter the fear that grew every day as my birthday approached.

Does he even know when my birthday is? I don’t think so. God, I hope not.

The night arrived. As I laid in bed, there was no doubt...I’d never sleep from the excitement that was building by the second. I didn’t even care. I’d sleep on the bus.

Tomorrow is my birthday! I will have the best birthday since…well, since Mom used to celebrate them with me. She always made my birthday the most important day of her year. But that was mom. She made me feel like the most important person in the world. Now that I think about it…she made everyone feel like that.

So tomorrow...for her...I will celebrate my birthday. I can’t wait to feel like celebrating. It wouldn’t have to be my birthday…being out of this nightmare is enough reason to celebrate.

I went to bed at my usual time to avoid any suspicions. Now, I’m just staring at the darkened ceiling, almost hypnotized as I go over my plan in my head. I will wait for him to go to work. Just around 7:20 in the morning. He leaves like clockwork every day. Then, I will make a run for it. No hesitation. Just like my stepmom did. I haven't packed yet. No way. He would definitely notice. So I organized everything that I was taking. I practiced it over and over in my head. I had a large duffle in my closet and would quickly throw my necessities in just as I rehearsed.

My bike vanished months ago. He said it was stolen, but I didn’t buy that story at all. He controlled every detail of my life. He wouldn’t allow me to keep something that I could get away on. That or because it was a gift from my mom. I don’t really know the truth…not that I ever expected the truth from him.

The path to the nearest bus stop was mapped out in my head too. I knew which backyards to cross to avoid any main roads. It was only a few minutes from the house. I would leave in just enough time to avoid sitting there too long. I didn’t want anyone seeing me and telling him which bus I left on that might give a clue as to my direction of travel.

I could taste freedom. “Taste freedom.” I heard that phrase used when I was a child. I remember thinking, “How silly, you can’t taste it.” But it’s true. The excitement of a new life is overwhelming all of my senses…even my taste. Like comfort food. There’s such an enormous peace in the thought of what my life will be like in less than twelve hours. I can taste the sweetness of it already.

I finally feel a peace that my life is heading in the direction that mom would want for me. I had never felt so sure about anything as I do right now. I could almost see her smile as I stared at the ceiling. 

Then suddenly, as if my entire body knew, I could sense something horrible was about to happen. What was going on? Just as I had my mind made up, was this self-doubt creeping in? Fear trying to manipulate my actions.

Every part of me shook from the impetuous movement of my bedroom door. The door was pushed open so violently that it crashed into the wall, making a small indentation. Without any warning, my father was standing over my bed, looking down at me. “Get up,” he roared.

I was about to respond with, “Okay” but even a confirmation might get me punched. So I did as he said and stood there like a frightened child. That’s what made my blood boil. How he made me feel. Cowards take smaller people’s strength and confidence from them. Like that makes them strong. My ass it does! He has only grown weaker in my eyes. He’s never even hit anyone his own size…just smaller women. 

I stood there, staring at him, trying not to project hatred from my expression, and waited for what was to come. But I knew one thing…this would be the last time he ordered me around.

***