Exceptional Background, the parents and rules Age 10 Ghost : A Deeper Look by Lea Tonin1 A First Book Chapter contest entry

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. Creak, whisper, slide and shuffle.  All the sounds I listened to in the night before I could sleep.  To make sure that he, the man, had gone to his rest.  Even that wasn't a guarantee so even while I slept, I listened for those sounds. I waited for the feeling of foreboding, the indicator that more was coming.  The question of "why" constantly popped up throughout the years of my childhood and throughout my adult years. The question has never really been answered but, as I look back, I think the "why" doesn't matter now. It's only the "who, what, where and when" that I should be thinking of. The"why" keeps us in the past.  But the "who, what, where and when" are present and future-driven as well as solution-bound.     Mother - Post WW2 European immigrant, strict Christian family. Pregnant at 17 a mother at eighteen, followed by a second child at 20. Married three times in the first five years of my life and one other relationship in between.  The second marriage produced a third child all girls.  Currently with husband number five.   Stepfather - Post WW2 Asian immigrant strict Buddhist family. Married early 20s produced my stepbrother and followed a daughter who died of SIDS.  Father held him back from a career in professional hockey to work the mines in the interior with his family.   Father -  Not a lot of information was known to me at that time.   The relationship between my mother and "the man" my stepfather was mostly good for my mother in many ways.    He was very affectionate towards her and treated her mostly well. He allowed her to come and go as she pleased and do all the things she wanted to do.   All her entertainment, bowling, cigarettes fun with friends. He gave her that and for her, that was the leash being removed. She ran with it.  As long as someone paid the bills and looked after her children she was good to go.    Essentially she left behind her children and did the things she couldn't do under her mother's thumb.     Various details about my parents came to me over the years but at the age of ten, I knew maybe five percent.  Sitting in the dark, listening to the sounds of the house was a by-product of the set stage we were living in. Divide and conquer was the flavour of the day as my parents pitted my middle sister and myself against each other.  She was the house monitor believing that if she reported the daily activity of the house she would be accepted. That she would hear the words I know she was longing to hear. That she was loved and wanted.  This is understandable and yet detrimental to our situation so a vicious cycle began.... ***************************** FINALLY, we were taken from our home.  We found ourselves in a group home with other children our age. It was heaven! I didn't have to watch for the fist coming around the corner. I didn't have to worry if I was going to get to eat, and I didn't have to worry about kids chasing me down the street. Three weeks of food and safety, nothing in the world felt as good as that did!  But all good things come to an end.  This one was no different.  A bright sunny day, a clean hallway with shiny floors. Offices to the left and the right. Ordered and cleaned like a new penny. We watched people walking the hallways in their suits and skirts, armloads of paperwork in tow.  We watched in the hope that we three girls could see the nightmare end.  While we waited to be seen my mother turned and looked at us and said, " If you tell them what he does then who will pay the bills?" My world collapsed. I knew we were going back and I knew in that one question that it was over. So we lied.  A few days later myself and my sisters were out in the front yard picking up grass after we had cut and raked the lawn.  A car pulled up. I wasn't sure who it was at first until he stepped out. It was my mother's second husband and the father of my youngest sister.  I watched him go into the house and a few minutes later a bag and my young sister came out. I watched him put her bag in the trunk, then they got in the car and drove away.  Not even the beautiful, warm day could take the gloom from my heart and mind as I watched them leave.  I stood on the lawn wishing with all of me that I could have gone with them, that I could have grabbed my bag hopped in the car and left with them. I stood there weeping as the one dark thought crossed my mind.  "One sister gone, two remain... preceded by fewer children to blame, it meant more pain would follow." As I cried, the front door slammed and my mother came out and yelled. "If you think your father is gonna come riding in on a white horse, you can forget it!" I had a father. I just never thought about it until she said what she said. Who is my father? Where is my father? Why is he not here?  Questions and pain, pain and questions. The miasma of my mind just wouldn't let up so I retreated to the closet not knowing what to do with all these feelings.  As I sat there I tore at my shirt again. Frustration, pain and fear. These were my constant companions. My coping skills were tested to the limit every day all day. Only one more thought could I hang on to. One more hope if I could make it, would come the day I could emancipate myself. Tick Tock, tick tock, the days, the weeks, the years.  We experienced time like the slow drip of molasses. Slower than a caterpillar on the sidewalk...   much, much too slow for me... Recognized Author Notes This story is part of an auto-bio called "Ghost" currently being worked on. Thanks for stopping by to read! ***Picture is myself aged 7***

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