“Open up your books and let’s start where we left off yesterday.”

Papers shuffled as students put away their worksheets and reached into their bags for the novel. I pulled a paperback out of my messenger bag and looked at the simple cover. A small girl leaning to the right with her hand cupped around her mouth was the only picture displayed. It seemed as though she were willing someone to come closer so she could share a secret.
I opened up to the new chapter just as my English teacher began talking.

“So last night you had to read chapters five and six from The Glass Castle. What did you all think? A bunch of loons right?” Scattered chuckles came from some kids. I barely blinked in response.

“I can’t believe someone would actually do that to their own kid,” someone from the front of the room said. “It just seems like as her parents, they would have had enough common sense to try and be more cautious with Jeanette.”

The teacher nodded in agreement, “And that’s what makes it so sad. Her parents never realized that they were hurting their children. It’s just unfortunate that the kids were brought up like that. All right, let’s start reading.”

As she began reading the book aloud to us, my mind went elsewhere. Was it really that unbelievable that parents could do bad things to their children? My jaw tightened as I answered my own question. I used to think the same thing that my classmates still believe. That was until a couple of years ago.

I was mentally preparing myself for the CMT’s on a Sunday night. Most of my friends though I was silly for even doing anything for the CMT’s because it wasn’t something you could normally study for. But as I had learned early on, testing wasn’t one of my strong suits. I would always understand homework and I always paid attention in class but when it came to tests, my brain blanked completely. So I decided to go to bed early and get enough rest so I could be calm the next morning.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a loud shatter coming from the kitchen followed by yelling. I sighed. This was the second time in 3 weeks.

Cautiously, I opened my door and stuck my head out to listen in on their argument. I couldn’t make out their words because they were screaming over each other but from what I could hear it wasn’t good. I turned off my bedroom light and quietly walked down the hallway. The yells got louder as I approached, and my parents came into view, I took the scene in. A shattered glass on the floor, my mom’s blouse drenched in water.

“What’s going on? Why are you yelling at each other again?” I asked half-heartedly. To be honest, I didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Nothing, this is between me and your father. Go back to your room.”
“No!” my dad growled. “She can stay here. I want her to listen to this”

“Listen to you what? Argue again? I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime. Daddy, just let it go and head upstairs. Go read today’s newspaper or something,” I suggested.

“Not until your mother admits that she’d the reason why you and your brother are failures!”

He roared to me and my mom. “This has gone on for far too long and I will not have her sabotaging my children!”

“Your children? Your children?” my mom shrieked. “They’re more mine than yours! Not once have you ever cooked a meal for them or driven them to or from their activities!”

I just stared at the both of them without saying a word. They kept going back and forth at each other, both retaliating and blaming.

“The only reason I haven’t left you is because I don’t want our daughter to have to suffer from it!” my mom shrilled.

Before she even finished her sentence, I knew what was going to happen next. But still, I remained glued to the floor as my father pushed my mom to the ground and hit her. After my brain took in what was happening, I moved forward and tried to pull my dad back but as a 7th grader, my muscles weren’t quite as refined as my dad’s.

“Daddy, stop it! Stop it!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “You can’t do this!”

Before I could react, my dad’s arm slammed backwards and knocked the breath out of me. I hit the floor hard and rolled onto my side, holding my stomach with my hands. I opened my eyes just as my dad reached down and put his hands on my shoulders to pin me down.

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” he said darkly. “This is my house and I say what everyone does!”

His hands moved from my shoulders to my throat as he pushed down and cut off my air. My hands wrapped around his wrists as I tried to pull them off me. I rolled and squirmed until I kicked my legs up and landed a weak blow on his waist. It was a feeble attempt to push him over but it was enough to make him stumble slightly. I took the chance and scrambled off my back and onto my feet. Without looking back, I ran to my room and locked the door shakily. After pausing for a moment, I turned around and staggered over to my closet and closed the door. Through the walls I heard my mom stalk into her room and slam the door. I leaned against the wall near a rack of my clothes and I slid down onto the ground. Burying my face into arms and legs, I began to cry.


When I got home, I opened the fridge and pulled out a raspberry muffin, leftover from the party one week ago. I wandered into the vast room where my piano stood, waiting for me. Lowering myself onto the bench, I rested my hands daintily on the bleach white keys and listened, waiting to make there was silence. The room filled with the melancholy notes of Burgmuller as I lost myself and my head was cleared of its problems.

I cringed as a siren pierced the air. My fingers stopped abruptly as I looked up from the keys. Through the window I could see the flashing lights of the police car rushing by. Staring at the harsh glares, a memory flitted through my mind.


I squinted my eyes as I focused on the flash of red and blue. My mom stood near the stone steps talking to one of the officers. Every so often the officer would nod and my mom would make some hand gestures. I leaned against the thick door frame with my arms crossed, thinking about everything except what had just happened. The other officer walked over to me with a tight grin. After asking me some basic questions concerning my safety he asked me the question I had been anticipating.

“Now, I would like you to tell me exactly what happened. Everything that you can remember, from the beginning.”

I looked at him wearily. “My dad got angry again, started arguing with me and my mom, and then abused us. So I called the police. It’s simple really.”

The man sighed. “Look, I get that this is difficult for you. But it would help if you could tell me more specifically what happened. I understand what you’re-“

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand what I’m going through. You think that you can just talk to all of us, put it on record and then send us to family therapy. But it’s not that easy. No matter how many times my dad gets in trouble for hurting us, he will never learn. It will just keep happening and the next day he’s going to come down stairs into the kitchen and pretend like nothing ever happened. And it’s my fault too. Because I keep letting him back in. I’ll always tell myself that this time, it’ll be different. This time he really won’t get mad again because he will finally realize that what he’s doing is wrong.” I stopped to take a breath. “But I guess the moral to that is people will always let you down.”

I stormed into the house and shut myself in my room. Pulling my cellphone out of my back pocket, I noticed new scratches. At least it didn’t get crushed like last time, I thought to myself. I searched through my contacts until I found his name.

It rang two times before he picked up. “It’s the middle of the night Pam, what’s going on?”

“It happened. Again. Just like you warned me. I should have listened to you.” My voice began to crack as I choked out the abrupt sentences.

“Hey, there’s no need to cry. Friends don’t let friends sweat through their eyes. It’s not right. Where’s that bright eyed, always cheerful and quirky girl everyone sees?” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I already had to talk about it with the police.” I said unenthusiastically.
“That bad huh?” he replied.

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before. I’m just so tired of being betrayed all the time. It’s this never ending cycle that I could put an end to. And it should be easy to end it but I just can’t. I find myself giving him so many chances that they’ve lost their value.”

He chuckled lightly. “But that’s just you. You can’t change your morals. I’ve seen you do things that would make others laugh at you. And you wouldn’t care because that’s who you are. You’ll always be the optimistic one in people’s lives. Even when the world around you darkens, you always put on a smile and soldier on like all is right in the world. And your dad is an awful person for taking advantage of your blind optimism. But one day, he’s going to realize that he had everything he could have wanted. A job, a home and a family that loved him. When he realizes that, the guilt will come crashing down on him like a house of cards.”

I chimed in, feeling better now. “And he’s going to be left in the remains of that house of cards trying to put it back again but those cards won’t be there anymore. Just like I’ll be long gone by then.”