I remember

I remember my mother's tentative smile as she broke the news to us. Too young to understand but old enough to feel uneasy, I only nodded my head as we packed our things to move into his house.

I remember him taking the remote away from my hand and throwing it against the wall. He claimed "A woman has no authority in this house". I began to realise I wasn't a daughter to him, I was his maid.

I remember locking myself in my room, afraid if I so much as appear in his presence I would be a bother. Vice versa, I felt as if when he wasn't in my presence, he wasn't a bother.

I remember his pale wrinkly fingers on my bare shoulder. Shoving it away, I was greeted with a slap on the face. That day, I learnt to obey him with silence hatred.

I remember the suffocating fear as my head went underwater and his hand pushed me even further down, his fingers pulling hard at my hair. I choked tears.

From then on, I have an infinite fear of consuming liquid that is not mine.

I remember my brother standing protectively in front of my mother and snatching his cane away. I stood beside her, my fists curled in anger. That night, I learnt to fight with a heart full of fear.

I remember packing my bags and leaving without regrets. I ran away happily from home and learnt to breathe loudly again.

I will always remember today when my mother called and said her separation with him is finally finalised. We can no longer fear him.

Good riddance, useless piece of shit stepfather.

I was just seven years old when I first laid my eyes on him. He looked old enough to be my grandfather, which he is for his age surpasses my grandfather's. He didn't seem too bad of a person at first glance, just scary. I suppose you really cannot help looking scary if you walk with a limp and your face caved in with a childhood of acne. But my mother was fond of him and even at the tender age of seven, I knew that was enough to keep her mildly satisfied after my parents' divorce.

I left when I was seventeen. It was a decade of physical and mental abuse. Why we stayed as long as we did, I am still learning the truth till today. It didn't seem fair that just because we were financially constrained, we were to accept a person into our family of three. But there were debts to pay.

I didn't mind the physical abuse so much. It was the constant tormenting mental torture that caused me to lose my sense of worth in this household where women are confined to nothing but housework. During a rough period, my mother and him were arguing everyday whether to pull me out of the swimming team because apparently, it is not appropriate for a girl to be geographically exposed. For her place is at home.

I hear riots from you womenfolk already.

I was afraid to breathe in his presence. I was afraid of his footsteps because that would mean him nosing in my business. I was afraid to have an opinion in this house.

I am ready to admit I was a wild child. I've given my mother my fair share of troubles. I've given her doubts to trust me.

But I am not without intelligence. And for every single time he called me stupid for not knowing how to do the housework properly, I brought home good grades.

And if "A woman has no authority in this house" I know where my home is and that is definitely not his.

And if "A woman's place is at home" I know better than ever, his opinion should not matter because I am well on my way to graduating with a degree.

 

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You’re currently reading “I remember,” an entry on The Geek In Pink

Published:
4.2.07 / 12am
Category:
Rants