Essay about Spring Break: A Short Story

Growing up, I was met with darkness. Every time I thought I had done something right, it always turned out to be wrong. Everything I did wrong ended in my own desolation. He called me feeble; because I could not handle the agony he forced me to face everyday. I could not escape his wrath; no matter how hard I tried. He was always there; ready to pounce like a tiger waiting to capture his meal. My heavenly mother met my little brother Tanner’s dad when I was just a petite little one-year-old child. She left my dad, because she could not handle how he treated her or her two daughters.

She told me a story from when I was an infant that he took a baseball bat, and broke the window of the car, on the side where I was sitting at. That was the final straw. She never wanted anyone to get hurt. Eventually my mom and Robert got married, and we bonded everyday. Robert and I were very close; we had a bond no one ever thought would be broken. Everything changed once my brother Tanner was born. Robert forgot about me, and did not even notice me, until I did things I was told to do “wrong. ” Being forgotten about tore me up inside.

I would cry all the time, and the only things that could comfort me were my mother, and my baby blanket. My baby blanket was my all time favorite childhood possession. I always had my baby blanket with me. It was blue and had polka dots and hearts on it. I always had my “blankie” with me when I was a little girl. Somehow it always comforted me, and my mom told me I never let that blanket out of my sight. This time though, my blanket failed to fully comfort me. Everyone told me things would get better. It never got better. It always got worse.

Eventually, I had thought he was never even going to talk to me anymore, until one night after dinner. My opinion of him changed drastically, and I never thought of him the same way again. I was about eight years old, and he blew up on me for such a small thing. “Get up, and go do the dishes NOW! ” Robert exclaimed. “Okay. ” I got up, and took my plate to the kitchen, where my older sister, Allysha was already working. Since I was younger, she gave me the facile task of drying the dishes after she had washed them by hand.

Ten minutes later, we had completed the task of cleaning up dinner, and doing the dishes. Robert then came into the kitchen, and inspected our work. He pulled out a plate from the second shelf in the kitchen cabinet, and glowered at us both. He had a look of rage in his eyes, like those of a bull chasing the red flag at a rodeo. His mouth appeared to be stitched together, like those of a doll. It was truly a petrifying sight to see.

My sister and I were shaking in dismay, with our hands clenched tightly behind out backs just waiting for the storm to blow. Who dried these dishes? ” Robert questioned. “I did,” I said while my voice trembled with trepidation, my whole body was shaking, my hands were white from clenching them together tightly, and my eyes were big and wide, like those of a scared kitten. “You did not properly do your job. Do you need to be taught a lesson? ” Robert said in a derogatory way. His voice alone sent chills down my back. That was when he grabbed me and smacked me across the face. At first it was surreal. The whole incident did not seem real. A few seconds later, I knew it had actually happened.

I felt the pain in my face, and my arm where he grabbed me. He left a bruise on my right arm, and he had smacked me so hard I was seeing stars. I had a massive headache and felt like I was going to fall. I remember being thankful that he had left the room, because I needed something to lean on, but eventually I just let myself sink to the floor, with tears streaming out of my eyes, and down my cheeks. After that day, all the love, and fondness I had for him vanished into dust. Nothing was ever the same again after that. Robert and I had lost our connection, and we never got it back.

I did not even want to begin trying to bond with him again. It was impossible. He yelled at my sister and I over everything we did, telling us we were not good enough. It hurt every time, no matter how hard I tried to fight the agony of the sorrow he made me feel. I always looked forward to waking up in the morning for school. At least then I knew I would be escaping his wrath for eight hours. These eight hours of school were honestly a treasure for me, that is until it came time for Spring break. Then everything catapulted downward quickly again.

Spring break, when I was about ten years old I picked up a book and decided to read on the couch. It was not unusual for me to have a book in my hands, since I have a deep love for reading. I have always loved to read and it is not unusual for you to find me with my nose in a book. Robert came inside from working outside in the garage, and his hands were all filthy, and covered in grease. He grabbed my book from my hands, and tossed it on the floor. He told me I should be doing something productive, like cleaning the sinks and mirrors in the bathrooms.

After telling me to go do chores he grabbed my wrist, and told me I was not allowed to read or even pick up a book for the rest of the vacation. I cleaned both bathrooms till everything sparkled. I made sure everything was spotless and shiny before I even bothered to leave either of the bathrooms. I knew if I did not thoroughly do the task, I would be in a world of torture. Once I went back downstairs I grabbed my book off the floor, and started to read since I knew he had left the house. One hundred and fifty pages later, I was so wrapped up in my book I never even heard him breeze into the house.

I peeked my head up to see what was going on, to get a clear view of Robert standing right in front of me with a look that made you swear he himself was the devil written on his face. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and dragged me into the kitchen. I knew inside that I had to stay strong, but once he told me to go pick out a belt from his drawer I cracked. I already knew what I was in for. I walked upstairs very slowly allowing everything to sink in, and slowly picked out a belt that I thought would be the least painful.

I trudged down the stairs, and handed him the belt. I kept my mouth shut the whole time. I tried to prepare myself for the strike, but nothing ever prepares you for the stab of pain that shoots through your body. Every hit brought me closer to tears; I never thought the torment would end. After the first ten strikes of the belt, my legs started to give out and I felt like I was going to collapse. I finally gave into the tears, and I let myself really cry. They were heaving sobs that filled my whole body, made me tremble, and filled the kitchen with sound.

After five more strikes of the belt he was done teaching me a lesson, and told me to have a seat. It was the worse thing that has ever happened to me, and staying strong never helped me. After that day, I would hide myself in my room, and I would only leave my room to eat dinner, use the bathroom, leave for school, or to go into town with my mom. Robert made my life miserable, but I have grown past what he put me through. I always look on the bright side of things today. “Vulnerability becomes the door to intimacy, to being ourselves, to being real, to being where we are.

But for that to happen, we have to be willing to be vulnerable to what is. Being vulnerable means that our soul is open for things to arise in it. It is not defended. ” A. H. Almaas said this quote. This quote brought me to tears, because reading it made me realize that being vulnerable is being strong. I never noticed that before, and I just thought it was a beautiful thing. My mom always tells me I have the biggest heart of anyone that she has ever met, and I used to think that she meant it was a bad thing. Now | know that it is actually a good thing, it is good to care, and to let yourself cry.

A lot of people think that crying makes you weak, but I think that it shows that you are strong for letting your true feelings show. I have been strong all along, and was raised by a coward. Looking back on my past today, I am thankful for what happened in my past. It shaped me into who I am today, and I could not be more thankful for the opportunities I have had in life, the people I am lucky to call my friends and family, the home I now live in, the freedom I have gained, and a fresh start with a better life. It means the world to me, and I would not want to have it any other way.