Disguised In Black & Blue

Lifeless~ (Entry 4){1995}

6

Dear Diary,

It is finally morning, and my pillow is saturated in tears from the night before last. The bed was the least far from comfortable, as was the filthy sheets I slept in. I stood up, my feet numb and my body shivering from the cold air circulating from a window. I am honestly still dumbstruck…how could anyone tolerate such a loathsome creature? The door suddenly unfastened and the elderly women approached me with fury. “Hurry up, and get downstairs with the other brats”. I nodded with disgust and scurried downstairs with a slight hesitation.

“Alright, this here is Crissy”. The elderly women lashed out. I noticed so many other little faces in front of me. They all appeared malnourished, disgruntled and absolutely petrified. “Show her what she needs to do and wash up for grub”. “Don’t keep me waiting… anyone who does not follow orders will be punished”. A little girl, perhaps a year or two older than me grinned… and lead me to the hallway. There was a big white board on the wall, names alphabetized, as well as a list of chores to complete daily. She pointed where my name was located on the list, and then left me to fulfill each objective.

The list was long and tedious…but I started off with one chore at a time. The first check mark was labeled “Living Room” I figured self-explanatory…even though this was my first time ever cleaning anything. There was a description below that conveyed what items to use and where they were located. “vacuum” was one item listed…another “Duster” hmm. As I dawdled my way to the closet entrance in order to retrieve the vacuum; I heard a high-pitched whistle go off. “Time to eat brats Hustle in here NOW”! I rushed to the kitchen, anxiously awaiting the cravings of food…Yet, to my surprise the food was not what I had intended.

“Why are you not eating”, the elderly women asked? “You selfish little girl…expecting gourmet food are we”? “You barked up the wrong tree my deary, let me give you a dose of your own medicine”! She forcibly took the soggy bread with the rotten fixings and shoved it down my throat. I regurgitated as the taste was vile. She then rubbed my face in my own vomit and left me to squander in my chair. I wept profusely…”You are a pathetic child, no crying is allowed while your under my roof”. “Rules will be implied and followed you understand”? I nodded sheepishly. “Get back to your chores…run along now”. “What a witch”, I thought to myself.

It was nearly noon now and my belly roared in discomfort. I had been cleaning the living room from top to bottom for 4 hours now. I also managed to cleanse my face off from the mistreatment from earlier. To my dismay, how much torture could one person take at this place? Apparently turmoil became second nature to the other children. On the other hand; I needed to figure out a strategy and fast. Running away maybe…no because then my social worker would be notified. I pondered for a long while not knowing what to do or how to go about the situation. “Are you done with the chores”? The elderly women hissed. I nodded. “Yes ma’am”. “Well your father ought to better teach you better manners”.

We addressed the elderly women by a name called “Nana”…Bizarre I know. She never smiled and was definitely always dissatisfied. I described her as a bully because she always seemed to pick me as a target. There was one day I recall, in which I supposedly missed a spot on the bathroom floor…yup you guessed it (Sickened Laugh). I was punished. Her favorite tool to use on me was the end of a broom stick. Not like rubbing my face in vomit was bad enough. I went to bed nightly with bumps, scrapes, bruises and even gashes on my helpless little body. On the contrary, at least I wasn’t sent to bed without a mushy meal.

It had been a little over 2 months now, and my body was drained from all the hard labor. I missed my father entirely, and more so than I ever had in my life. I desperately yearned for his affection and embrace. The day was dreary, like usual. My social worker was arriving later on today to do a monthly evaluation as well as my progress with “Nana”. (Laughs) I prayed for God to rebuke this elderly women. Send her to the hell where she was conceived. I chuckled quietly. “Why are you laughing”? “Nobody is allowed to be happy without my permission under this roof…you hear”. I nodded offensively.

“Now girly, listen carefully…if your social worker asks about your bruises; lie and tell her your clumsy and trip over items in the household easily”. “But…DON’T BUT ME”! “I will choke you and make you wish you were never born if you don’t obey me”. I nodded agreeably and stagnant. “Yes nana”. “Good girl, now be on your best behavior and pretend your happy”. I felt like this elderly women’s personal puppet…I had no say on my behalf, because I was still just a powerless 5-year-old. Lie? I didn’t want to lie to my social worker, but then again I had no choice. My life was at stake…

Bye for now, Diary.

 

 

 

Kristi has told her testimony to over 2,000 foster youth in 2012. She continues to inspire many with her creative writing style and chilling stories depicted by an innocence and horrid journey.

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Posted in Diary Entries
7 comments on “Disguised In Black & Blue
  1. micketalbot says:

    The more I read the more understanding I become of how lucky a life I have led, next chapter please šŸ™‚

    Like

  2. The story is nicely tossing up. You are ending quite good, to keep the reader intuined for next day.

    Liked by 1 person

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