Trigger Warning
Thirteen Years Ago
"Daddy, please! Please, don't leave us. Please!" The tiny child was sobbing hysterically, clinging to his pants. The man moved with purpose, uncaring, dragging the little girl.
No! She didn't let go. How she wished her hands were bigger so she could surround his limb with enough force to make him stop.
He remained unconcerned. Irritation marring his handsome features.
It was no use. The small frame that was her body got dragged along. He continued to walk towards the door.
"Leave him be, brat. He doesn't want us anymore." No! That was not true. She was Daddy's little girl. He loved her. He read her stories at night and he would always bring her chocolates.
Her swollen eyes pleaded with him. "Please, Daddy. Don't leave me." He didn't spare her a glance. His face was graven and his hands were clenched. Anger radiated from him in waves and it was palpable. He looked outside where his car was parked, the engine was left running. Profanities left his tight lips.
"Take care of my daughter. Remember our deal." He addressed mum. His words rang with finality.
Sylvia's lips twisted in disgust. "Just go to your slut, asshole. You deserve each other." Looking away, she drained the bottle filled with whiskey.
Annoyed, her father shook his head, removed his daughter's hands around him none too gently. She stumbled when he pushed her a bit harder away from him. Shock filled her. He had never hurt her before. She was his precious little girl. He loved her. He must.
He took that advantage and he got out the door, straight to his car without a backward glance. Not even once.
Why? Had she done something wrong?
"Mom?" That one loaded question was ignored. The woman chuckled bitterly, with trembling hands, continued to drink until some of the liquid spilled on her.
"Yourrr...dad...willl...not...come backk! Remmm...mem...berr that, brat! He had chosen that whore over us." She looked at her with malice, and with a cruel smirk, dismissed her with a flick of a finger, wanting her daughter away from her sight.
"No! That's not true!" Sinclair ran to her bedroom and cried until broken hiccups left her lips.
Dad would come back. He must. He loved her.
Her tummy rumbled. She ignored it.
"Daddy, please come back." Murmuring a fervent prayer, she willed herself to sleep, hoping when she woke up it was all a dream.
***
"Son of a bitch! You are a fucking burden! Brat! Idiot! You won't fucking eat. Bitch!" She trembled from the hits she was receiving from her mother. Her blows made her dizzy but she bit her lip until she drew blood to keep from fainting.
This was her fault. She burned their dinner. Her fault.
It was always her fault.
The mum heaved a disgusted sigh when Sinclair fell on the worn carpet. "Do it again, you useless piece of shit!"
She ran to the kitchen to serve her mum again.
There was constant roaring in her ears when mother was hitting her a bit too hard with a bottle. It hurt a lot. Bees were swirling inside her head. Big fat bees. Her mother would always aim for her head.
Moving fast despite her size, she saved what was left of the ingredients for a decent plate. She didn't want to make her mad.
To salvage the dinner - scrambled eggs and toasted bread - she scraped the edible parts into a different pan. This time, the flame on the stove was just right.
Tremors ran through her small body. She had to serve her food soon or else.....
Sleeping outside on a cold night was no fun. That was her constant punishment aside from her mother's physical abuse.
Damn, these tears! Make it stop.
Startled by the sharp tap on her thin shoulders, she held tight to avoid falling from the makeshift platform she was standing on.
"I said, are you done, brat?" Jeez. She didn't hear her. She read her lips instead. "You move too fucking slow! Hurry up! I'm hungry."
"Yes, Mum," she mumbled.
It had been like this for a year now. Her mother's liquor addiction had worsened. Thank God, her aunt owned the diner where she worked and the mortgage in this house was paid by the father a long time ago or they would be out on the streets.
The beatings have worsened as well. The teachers began to notice.
Sinclair would always tell them she fell from the stairs, from the bathroom, everywhere. She didn't want her mum to go to jail and she didn't want to go live at an orphanage.
At her age, almost 9 years old. She understood these things. She had to.
Growing up too quickly was her salvation.
***
Five Years Later
Yes! Aunt Lydia had finally consented for her to work part-time at her diner. She knew she was only fourteen but she knew she was capable.
So, her Aunt told her, that her job would mostly assist the cook and wait on orders if the diner was a bit busy.
It was okay. As long as she got tips. Her goal was to go to college. She would need money for that.
Sinclair wanted to be a teacher. Which she would be someday.
Walking on the way home, she constantly stopped to pick up some wildflowers. The fragrant bunch would look nice on the kitchen table.
Humming, she climbed the steps on the wrap-around porch and stopped whilst she entered their home. Mom hated her voice but ever since her aunt bought her hearing aid, she couldn't stop.
Sinclair smiled.
Her aunt and her husband were God-sent. They protected her and fed her if her mother would disappear now and then. Even offered for her to stay with them but she couldn't.
She was still hoping the day would come when her mum would realize she had a daughter always waiting for her to come home. Maybe someday she would make Sin feel loved. Just like before they lost Dad to his other woman.
A pinch of pain invaded her and wistfully the girl exhaled slowly.
"Mom?" She called excitedly. The house was too quiet.
Halting at the threshold, she couldn't believe her eyes. Dumbfounded, she scanned her surroundings.
Damn! Oops, she didn't mean to swear. But, the house was a freaking mess! Torn clothes strewn on the floor. Liquor bottles everywhere. Leftovers rotting. Condoms left undisposed.
Her nose wrinkled at the foul smell. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Moving like a trained robot, she began to tidy the living area.
Did Mom have a party while she was in school? She usually did at night, however, Sinclair made sure to escape after serving them and took off to her aunt when it was too much.
Wary of the predators her mom brought home with her. They would always look at her strangely and touch her in places that made her gag.
She was almost raped that night one time. Thank God the neighbors called the police because of the loud booming music. She was spared. The partying adults, including Sylvia, high as a kite, were arrested.
Sin shuddered at the memory.
One horrible experience was enough. She had always made sure to protect herself at all times. Hidden where no one could reach her.
Trying to block those memories, she continued with her chores. Preparing dinner for two just in case, she waited in the kitchen for her mother to join her.
Where was Sylvia? She was usually hungry at this hour.
Her mom was not at the diner today where she was supposed to work part time. Mostly to support her vices.
Frowning and adjusting her hearing aid, she called out once more.
Where was she? Her heart began to thump. Panic setting in. Did she ODd?
Sinclair ran to her mom's room.
Empty. Cabinet doors were open haphazardly and some clothes were scattered on the dirty floor. Her one suitcase was gone, too.
Shocked, she could only stare at the mess.
Too broken, she felt herself slowly descending the cold floor. There she stared at the dark sky until morning came, accepting that maybe she was an orphan now.
***
Mother never came back after that day. She waited and waited. And waited.
They both left her. Was it because she was deaf? And she became a burden? But it happened from her mom's beatings. She couldn't help it.
The child services came by. Aunt Lydia took full custody. Sinclair begged her to let her stay in her own house. At first, her aunt didn't want to but finally relented when the child escaped every night.
Still clinging with hope, She waited for her mom. Maybe she would come back one day.
Senior High came, but Sylvia was not there. She received her medals alone. No parents, no friends, no family.
Aunt Lydia sold her diner at Rose Hill a while back and moved to Fort Worth, USA, where Uncle Steve was assigned. She refused to go with them. England was her home.
Telling them in no uncertain terms she must be here if her mom decided to come back.
Except mother never did. And never will.
Sinclair declared herself emancipated at age 17.
Completely alone.
Surviving independently.
This was the life she had chosen.
And she reveled in it.
_____________
