Page 28 of Mated to the Monster Under my Bed
“You sassing me, you little brat?” he snarled, glaring down at me. “You calling me a liar?”
“No!” I protested quickly, alarmed at how fast things were spiraling. “I’m just telling you what I said to her and what she said back.”
“You’re a little liar! I don’t know why your momma doesn’t beat you more! She ought to beat the sass out of you!”
“I’m not sassy!” I muttered rebelliously. “I’m just telling the truth.”
Duke’s face got even redder and he blew through a stop sign, making other drivers blare their horns indignantly.
“You better mind what you say to me, missy! Watch that smart mouth of yours or I’ll tan your bottom until you can’t sit down for a week!”
My stepfather always wanted to punish me. He said I talked back—said he had the right to discipline me since he was my father now. But he hadn’t laid a hand on me…yet.
We finished the drive in silence—I said nothing because it was clear there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t enrage him further. I could feel how much he hated me curling around my head like sour smoke—it mixed with the fear I felt and made my stomach tight. Driving with him was like riding beside a rabid beast—one that might break free of its constraints and attack at any time. I just wanted to get home and go to my room to feel safe from him.
But today it was like the rage in my stepfather finally boiled over. The minute he parked the truck in our driveway, and we got inside the house, he reached for me and grabbed me by the arm.
“Hey!” I gasped, surprised because I hadn’t expected it. As many times as he’d talked about punishing me, I hadn’t really thought he would do it.
But now, the restraints were gone.
“You come here!” Duke was grinning in a mean way—his little, piggy eyes filled with angry glee. “You come here and take your punishment for smarting off to me, missy! I’ll make you sorry you ever opened your mouth!”
He dragged me to the couch and pulled me over his lap. I screamed and struggled, but he had me pinned down with one heavy arm over my lower back to hold me in place.
“Let me go! I’ll tell Mom!” I shrieked, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. My mother was a cold and distant woman—she never objected when Duke said mean things to me. Anyway, she wasn’t home right now. She had to work late most nights, which was why she had Duke pick me up from school.
“You shut your fat mouth!” my stepfather roared. “I’m going to teach you a lesson right now about sassing me!”
He raised his hand and I tensed, my whole body going stiff as a board. I was thinking, No! No-no-no! Don’t hit me, you can’t hit me! I wish someone would hit you and show you how it is!
I heard a sharp slap! But I didn’t feel anything. Then Duke gave an angry cry.
“What the fuck?”
I twisted my neck and saw his hand still raised and a dark mark growing on his already red face.
“You little bitch!” he snarled at me. “I said I’m going teach you a lesson!”
His hand fell…but at the last minute, it jerked to the side and instead of spanking me, he slapped his own face. It happened again and again—every time my angry stepfather tried to beat me, he hit himself instead.
Which only enraged him more.
“You little bitch—how are you doing this?” he shouted at me.
I didn’t know myself—I only knew I needed to get away from him as fast as I could.
The next time he went to spank me, and his hand flew towards his own face instead, he tried to catch it with his other hand—the one he’d been using to hold me down.
The minute I felt his heavy arm leave my back, I wiggled off his lap and ran to the back of the house for my bedroom.
“Get back here, you little bitch!” Duke roared with rage. A moment later I heard his big, heavy footsteps lumbering after me.
I reached my room and slammed the door and locked it. But I knew it wouldn’t hold for long. It was just one of those little thumb locks—hardly stronger than a lock on a bathroom stall. Just one kick from Duke’s clumsy shit-kicker boots would snap it like a stick of candy and then he would be in my room trying to hurt me again.
Quickly, I looked for a place to hide. Anyplace he couldn’t get to me. The closet was inviting…but too shallow to offer any real safety. Duke would be able to reach in and snatch me out instantly.
The only other place that offered a modicum of safety was the space under my bed. It was a big old four-poster, heavy and solid. My Grandma had given it to me when Mom and I moved out of her house so she could live with Duke. Now I scrambled under it, sliding my way into the stuffy space where only dust bunnies and the occasional lost sock lived.
