Fishing Lines and Doorknobs

I was only five years old. I remember playing outside with my new bike. Riding down the grassy hill and hauling it back to the top. It was a bright and warm day for good memories.

I remember my mother calling me inside to start cleaning up before daddy came home and dinner. My brother was already picking up the toys and it was my turn to take all toys back to the toy box. Being so young I didn’t exactly put them where I was supposed to, but little did I know it was be an advantage for me and my brother later.

Mom was in the kitchen cooking our dinner and cleaning up the rest of the trailer we lived in. She always loved listening to John Cougar on the radio and danced around like no one was watching. We saw her and would often join in. She was so free and had a large smile on her face.

That smile quickly left her face when she heard daddy’s truck coming down the gravel drive. She yelled at us to hurry with all the toys from the living room as she was setting the table. We heard the truck door slam shut and the boots walk up to the door. Daddy came in and stood there looking around the trailer. Making sure it was completely clean and there were no imperfections for him to see. He walked into the kitchen and sat his lunchbox on the counter.

I’m not sure of the exact details of how it started, but I do remember sitting in the living room with my dolls and my brother beside me. Yelling and screaming in our home was normal. Especially when daddy was home and unhappy. He started to yell at mom for not having dinner finished before he came home. Saying “It’s your JOB to take care of us and have my dinner ready when I walk through that door!”

I just happened to look into the kitchen and see daddy’s hand grab mom’s hair. She had such long dark brown hair. It made it easy for him to always grab ahold of. He pulled her crying red face to his and continued to scream at her for her shortcomings. He then pushed her away from him and told her to hurry up and finish dinner before he made her regret not having it done.

She grabbed something to wipe her tears away and quickly started on the rest of the dinner. Daddy had a rule. He was always to be served first. He was sitting at the table watching and waiting on her completion. She made him a plate and sat it down in front of him and moved on to making ours.

Mom tells us kids to go get washed up and we scurry down the hall. On our way back to the kitchen is where we saw daddy not happy with the choices of dinner tonight. He immediately stated to yell and belittle her. Saying things like “don’t you know anything?” and “you’re so damned stupid!”

Daddy forces his chair backwards and goes after mom’s hair again. Except this time he is really really angry. Daddy takes her to the pantry and he grabs his tackle box. Takes it and her to the living room. We just stand there watching in awe. Waiting and wondering what was going to happen next.

Still holding on to her hair he grabs his spoil of fishing line from the box. He throws her to the floor and starts walking towards her. Mom yells to us kids “GET OUT OF HERE! GO TO YOUR BEDROOM AND HIDE!!” Which is exactly what my brother does. He grabs my hand and drags me to the bedroom. After locking the door he makes me stuff my pudgy self into the toy box for safety. He stands at the door listening.

All we can hear are screams and yelling and some sort of slamming sounds. Me being nosy starts to climb out of the toy box and heads for the door. We both open it to see what is going on and see the worst possible thing one human could do to another. We see mom tied to the front door by her wrists with the fishing line. Her legs laying in front of her and blood running from her face.

Daddy is yelling at her demanding reasons of why she’s incompetent and lazy. We just stood in the doorway watching and see daddy kick mom all over her body and face with his steel toed work boots on. Just kicking and kicking some more. Blood keeps pouring out of her face and she continues to scream as he tells her no one can hear her.

The last thing I remember was her seeing us in the doorway yelling at us to run. My brother grabbed my arm again and we ran. We ran to the neighbors home and called our grandma. We waited at the neighbors until we saw daddy leave in the truck again. All of us rushed over and called for an ambulance immediately.

Mom lost six of her teeth and several clumps of hair that day. This is just one of MANY times I watched my daddy become a demon.