Living With Evil by Cynthia Owen (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

Occasionally, very rarely, she and Daddy disappeared together in the evening. They said they went to where Daddy worked. They said he had ‘business’ to attend to, but they always came back staggering like they had had lots of drinks, with Mammy draped over Daddy’s shoulders and laughing, just how I imagined they must have looked when they were courting.

Whatever they did there, it seemed to make Mammy giddy and happy for a little while. It was the only time she didn’t seem to hate Daddy, and he seemed happy too, because he bought Mammy sherry afterwards, and gave her extra housekeeping money. Those moments didn’t happen very often at all, but I’d seen enough to know that Mammy could leave the house if she wanted to.

That meant she just couldn’t be bothered to come to my Holy Communion, didn’t it? She could have put up with people ‘looking down their noses at us’ in church if she’d wanted to be there on my big day. She’d told me she hated me lots of times, but I always hoped she didn’t mean it and that she just called me a ‘bitch’ and a ‘liar’ and a ‘devil child’ when she was tired or cross. But Mammy had stayed in bed on my First Holy Communion. She must really hate me to miss my special day like that.

After a while, Mammy changed her mind and told me that I was to sleep in the double bed now. I didn’t understand. Why was she telling me to sleep in the bed with Daddy? Why did she want me in her place if she hated me so much and thought so little of me?

I was nervous, but I knew not to argue with Mammy about anything. I undressed slowly, feeling sick and scared as I climbed into the big, sagging bed for the first time.

It was cold inside, and I wrapped my arms around myself to get warm. I could smell smoke and sweat and Daddy’s Old Spice aftershave, and it wasn’t nice at all.

I didn’t feel comfortable, what with the cold and the smells and the rough feel of the dirty covers on my body.

It was dark in the room, but I could see spots of blood on the bedlinen and strained my eyes to make out what the unfamiliar stains on the bottom sheet were. I wondered what it was that stuck to the grey cotton and made it feel stiff and nasty. I wasn’t comfortable at all, but as I lay there all alone I forced myself to think of something nice, to try to stop myself feeling so worried and afraid. What was I worried about? Surely being allowed to sleep in the big bed meant I wasn’t in the bad books for a change? Maybe it was meant to be a treat?

I desperately tried to imagine myself at the beach, my favourite place, to make myself feel less scared. I pictured myself jumping in the waves, with Mammy holding my hand and Daddy smiling on the beach. Nobody was shouting. Nobody was arguing. Nobody was calling me names or hitting me. I could smell fresh air, and I could taste tangy salt in the sea breeze. I was clean and I was happy. The scene was very hard to imagine, and my head hurt as I desperately tried to cling on to the image. It felt so unreal and so unbelievable I just couldn’t hold it, and the picture slipped away, leaving my head full of dark clouds, like it usually was. Even dreaming of happiness was impossible, and I slowly dropped off to sleep, feeling as terrified as ever.

Daddy’s buckle hitting the hard lino woke me up. The clank of the metal triggered a reaction in my brain even when I was in a deep sleep. It was a sound that always came before a beating, but when I peeped through my half-closed eyes I knew straight away that I wasn’t going to get a beating. I remembered I was in the big bed, and I told myself it had to be some kind of privilege, even if I didn’t know why I was there. Nobody was going to beat me, Daddy never beat me in bed. Bed was the one place you were safe from a beating.

I sighed sleepily to myself when I heard Daddy get into the bed. I was lying on my side, and I felt the mattress give a little ripple beneath me as he tucked himself in behind me. It had to be past midnight, because Daddy never came home from the pub until that time. I shut my eyes tight and pretended to be fast asleep.

Daddy was breathing very loudly. Even when he tucked himself up close to me when I had slept in the same bed as him before, I hadn’t heard him breathe so loudly. I wasn’t used to feeling him quite so close.

In the daytime, he never came near me. I’d never sat on his knee or even held his hand. The only time he touched me was when he grabbed hold of my arm to hold me still while he beat the back of my thighs with his leather belt.

My heart started to beat a bit faster, like it did when I could tell Mammy was cross and was going to hit me. I knew Daddy wasn’t going to hit me though, because I was in the big bed and the belt was on the floor now. No, Daddy wasn’t going to hit me. He was going to snuggle up behind me.

Daddy was naked except for his shirt. I could feel the rough cotton and the cold buttons on my back. It felt strange to feel him so close. I could feel the bare skin of his legs pressing against the backs of my own little legs. His skin felt hairy and sweaty, and I didn’t like it. It