Chapter 3 - CHAPTER THREE: TEN YEARS OLD ME

I was just ten when I had the first taste of a man's cruelty.It was a Saturday morning. Mum had gone to the mall to get groceries, and the house felt too quiet. I was sitting on the floor in the parlour colouring my homework book when I heard him call me."Grace" his voice came from the bedroom.I walked in innocently… thinking maybe he needed help with something or wanted to send me on an errand as usual. He was sitting on the bed, the small TV buzzing in the corner.He smiled at me. It wasn't his normal smile, it looked different. Well, what do I know? I was just ten!."Come sit with Daddy," he said patting his lap.I innocently ran towards him eager for him to lift me.His arms wrapped around me, heavy and warm. At first, it felt like a hug, then his hands started to squeeze my dry chest… " Is daddy punishing me for doing something wrong?" I thought to myself.It didn't feel nice. Not the usual hugs I get from him when Mum's around. Then slowly his hands went down into my small pink skirt.My body went stiff."Relax, Grace" he whispered, that's when I noticed that he was smelling of beer.I wanted to scream but my voice was gone. I wanted to run but my legs were stiff. He had already laid me down and was on top of me.I felt my legs break. I cried!I wailed!I wished Mum didn't go to the Mall. When he was done he told me that this was our little secret. That good girls don't tell their mothers and that's what fathers do to their little girls to make them strong, and if I dared say anything to Mama, she would be so sad, she would leave us and that would be my fault.Of course I believed! What did I know? I was ten.When Mama came home, I was in the kitchen pretending to wash plates. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped one. She asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine.That night, I lay in bed listening to her laugh at something he said in the living room. My stomach turned. I knew she didn't see the monster I saw.That was just the beginning of the nightmare I had with men.People say you heal with time. They lie. Time doesn't heal certain wounds, it just teaches you how to hide them better.Now sitting in my apartment years later, I can still smell that beer on his breath. I can still hear the weight in his voice when he told me to keep quiet. And I did keep quiet…. Until I found another way to speak.A different kind of voice.One that makes men like him listen.One that makes them beg.The kind of voice that has nothing to do with words… and everything to do with the sharp blade sitting in my kitchen drawer.