I run in big circles through the library and living
through the den and dining room, and Dad is not giving up. I'm slipping on wood floors and I'm screaming through doors and I don't want to fall
because I don't want to stop,but I don't know where to run. Mom is
for me to stop screaming. She's in the kitchen trying to cut me off but
I shove her into the stove as I run by.
I know this is stupid,running through my own house.I
to be rational, act my own age: "Dad," I yell out, "I'm
too old to spank. Fourteen is too old."
"Then stop running," he yells as he slides through the
"You're going to get in trouble," I tell him.
"No," Mom yells to me from the kitchen, "You're the one
I run through the breakfast room through the laundry room and I push
all the laundry to slow Dad down.
I run upstairs to rooms with doors, but he does two stairs for each of
mine, and there's no time to shut a door behind me. He grabs me in the guest
"Stop. You're hurting me!" I yell, before he is.
"Damn right I'm gonna hurt you," he says.
I wriggle away and scream, loud enough for Marc to hear on the third
but I know he won't do anything--he's too scared of our parents. Dad
hold of my arm and it's taking too much energy for me to scream. The
house is quiet. I kick him in the stomach and knock his glasses off. I
a plan to scratch his eyes out, but I'm always too scared to do it. He
gets hold of both my arms and knocks me down. I plead quietly and rationally:
"Dad, we're not doing this again. This is so dumb." He ignores
me. He pins me on the floor face down and lies on top of me to hold me
I stop arguing. I'm embarrassed and just waiting for it to be
he doesn't do anything that will show at school.
"Take down your pants," he tells me.
"I'm too old," I say into the carpet.
Dad has a totally rational tone to his voice now: "I'm going to let
you get up, and if you run away, it's going be worse." He stands up
and blocks the doorway.
I stand up and look at him. "I'm not doing this. You're going to be sorry. This is stupid. You don't have to do this."
"Just do it!" he yells, and the veins in his neck pop out.
red and throbbing. He's sweating.
I take off my pants as he takes off his belt. He sits down on the bed
pulls me down with him. My face is in his lap and my arms dangle over
thighs. When he starts belting me, I bury my head in his lap so he
hear me crying. Every time the belt hits, my arms wrap tightly around
thighs and he groans.
After a while, he stops. I am silent, sniffling-in as quietly as I can. I don't want Marc to hear. I don't want anyone to come in now.
I can tell there's no blood because Dad's hand runs so smoothly up and
my butt, in between my thighs. He is searching everywhere for blood. He
won't keep going if he thinks I'm hurt.
When I think he's still searching, his hand smacks down. On my butt. On
my thighs. He's aiming badly because he's hitting so hard. His whole
is moving with each swing, faster and faster and then, he stops. And
his hand deep, in between my cheeks, and it feels good to cry, so I
hold back anymore.
"All right," he says. "I'm done."
I can't move. I feel silly standing up in front of him without my
on, and anyway, my butt hurts too much to move.
Dad feels the wetness in his lap, and he picks up my face to wipe away
tears. And then he flips me over and puts my head softly against his
It moves up and down. His arms are around me, hands stroking me like a
I am sniffling, taking deep breaths. He is breathing hard too. And I am
so tired, I want to stay in this position forever.
He says, "Honey, I'm sorry this happens. I don't want us to fight
I hug him and apologize. I don't want to fight anymore either.
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