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to get a glass of water for lunch. Things were so tense in the house with her that I would just not go in at all if I could avoid it. All I was allowed to do in the yard was read or pull weeds. No friends could visit and I was not allowed to go to their houses. The only escape from this would come when my father or grandfather would get home from work and neither had a clue what was going on between my brother, grandmother and me.
On weekends dad would take my brother and me to the beach and we had two wonderful days together, but or Monday it would be back to the same old thing. My brother and 1 were constantly on pins and needles when we were in the house with only our grandmother. We never knew when she was going to explode into a rage and take it out on us. She would pull my hair, even pulling it out in clumps, beat on me with her fists, rip my clothes. One time she scratched my face with her fingernails and drew blood; she made me tell the kids at school that my dog had done it.
After years of abuse, even though my grandmother had told me things would only get worse if I told anyone about if, 1 finally got brave and told my dad. He talked with her, and things did get worse. She screamed at me even more, and hit harder. I felt utterly and totally alone in my misery, and felt there was no adult that 1 could speak to.
Sec Child, Page A-6
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