The Last Entry

A girl follows in her mother's footsteps after enduring daily abuse from her father. It's the only way out. It was easy for her mother, it should be easy for her.

April. 8, 2007
Dear diary,
Today is the day! I can feel it! I felt it when I woke up this morning. I felt it on my way to school and through my classes. I felt it 10 minutes ago and I feel it now. You know the feeling, I've told you many times about it. I don't know, I just can't shake this feeling. I mean, it feels stronger then all those other time and I'm positive it's gonna happen today. Let me tell you about my day.
I wake up with a reassuring feeling today. "Something is going to change my life today" I thought. This feeling was still going strong as I got up and started to get dressed. As I took one last look at myself in the mirror I sigh and think, "What could possibly change my life today?" I open my door and walk down the hall to my father's room. I can hear him snoring down the hall although the closed door. As I got closer to the door, the snoring got louder.
I opened the door and see my father laying half on and half off the bed. I see a lit cigarette in his hand. "This man is going to burn the house down one day" I thought. I walk over to him, trying not to step on the empty beer cans that are spread all over the floor. I take the cigarette out of his hand and put it out in the ash tray on his night stand. As I turn to leave, my father let's out a dry heavy cough that sounded like it should have came from a heavy set old man, instead of a forty-two well built man. When he rolls over and doesn't move I continue to make my way out the door.
I quietly shut his door and turn to make my way to the kitchen. As I walk past my mother who is in the livingroom, I give her a kiss. I remember when I was little and she would let me dress up in her work clothes as she made breakfast. I would come in to the kitchen wearing long necklaces and clothes that were way to big on me but fit perfectly on her. When she got ready for work, I would lay on her bed and watch her as she carefully did her make up so I had no problem with it when I was old enough to wear some. On the weekends, mom would take me to the park, or to the mall to get new clothes at the discount stores. "It's not about where you shop or how much you spend" she once told me. "It's about finding the right pieces to put together so you don't look sloppy". I never understood what she meant by that. It wasn't until I was in second grade, when Alicia Cooper pointed out to the entire class that I wear the same outfit once a week. I went home everyday crying and mom would just hold me and say, "Some people say mean things to others so they can feel better about themselves". After that, mom and I went shopping for new clothes every weekend.
My parents have been married for six months before they had me. "You are our miracle baby" my mother would tell me. I never understood that until I heard her one day telling my aunt that if only she was prepared the first time, then I would have brother. I was about five years old when I heard that but I never asked my mother about it. My parents were happy when I was growing up. Always sneaking kisses and laughing and private jokes. Sometimes about nothing at all. To see them happy made me happy.
I remember waking up one night to hear yelling coming from the livingroom. I crawl out of bed and creep down the hall and as I turn the corner, I see my parents arguing. Well it was more of my mother crying and my father yelling in her face. "Your drunk!" she says. As she tries to turn and leave, my father grabs her by the arm and slaps her hard across the face. Mom yells out a cry but dad keeps hitting her. She falls to the floor and he keeps hitting her. Mom looks up and spots me hiding. Fear is in her eyes and although she didn't say it, I knew she wanted me to go back to bed and just cover my ears. A few minutes later, I heard the door slam and movement outside my door. Mom comes in and gets in bed with me. She pulls me close and apologizes for what I just saw. I asked why daddy did what he did and all I was told was, "He just had a bad day, it won't happen again". She told me to close my eyes and dream of a magical land. How could I do that when I hear my mother crying?
I wake up the next morning to find my mother in the kitchen serving French toast to dad, who gave her a long kiss and handed her a small wrapped gift. My mothers face lit up and she ripped open the paper. Her face made a shocked looked and then a excited look as she looks down at the sparkling earrings. "OH BEN THEIR GORGEOUS! I love them" she squealed. "Anything for one of my favorite girls" he said. Mom quickly puts them on and runs to the hall mirror to see how they look. When she came in she was half laughing half crying from joy. "Their beautiful. Thank you. Look Lisa!" She bends next to me so I can have a better look and asks if they look nice. A flash of hate washes through me. I wanted to say how could you be so nice to him and thank him when he hurt you? But instead I just nodded my head, smiled and finished my breakfast. I get up to get dressed and when I looked back, I see my parents kissing and smiling at each other. "I love you" my mom says." I love you" says my dad. "I don't understand" I said.
Even though they said they loved each other that morning, that night dad came home after a "bad day" and was yelling in every room he entered looking for mom. We were in the laundry room folding clothes and mom told me to hurry and run into my room and don't get in his way. Lucky for me my room was only two steps away, however I wasn't worried about me, it was mom. "Come with me!" I said. But she just pushed me out the door and closed it. I ran to my room, locked my door and hid in my closest like mom told me to do the first night this happened. I hear banging and then a loud noise. I hear my mom scream and a loud hard smack. I hear the same thing over and over again until there is silence. I then hear footsteps and I hold my breath and pray he doesn't come in here. The footsteps pass and goes out the front door. I let myself out and go to the laundry room. I peak inside and I see mom laying on the floor not moving. The floor was covered with the clothes we just folded. I shake my mom and she doesn't move. "Wake up!" I say. Nothing. I shake her some more. Nothing. I lay next to her crying. A few minutes later, I feel her move. I jump up and she looks at me with a smile. Her teeth is covered in blood. I help her up and we walk to the bathroom. I run the water and get a washcloth from the hall closet. I run the cloth under the water and apply it to her wounds. She doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just stares. I don't cry. I don't speak. I just clean.
Next morning was the same as before. Mom squeals over a gift from dad, whether it's jewelry or flowers or clothes.They say I love you and I just look on with confusion and disgust. The day goes on. I go to school and him to work. Mom quit her job to stay home because dad thought it would get alot more done around the house. I would come home and help mom. We would sing and dance around as we cooked and cleaned. But all that stopped around seven when he came home. I would do the same thing as the night before. Hide, listen, lay with mom, clean up, go to bed, and wake up to smiles and gifts. The same routine went on for the next six years. One morning I wake up to mom yelling in excitement over a new gift. I don't even bother to go see what it is. Mom knocks on my door and asked if I want to see what she got and I reply no. "Don't be like that" she says. "I don't care!" I yell. I tell her I'm tired of the same routine. Tired of the fakeness. I wish you all would just go away and I walk out. Little did I know those would be the last words I ever said to my mother.
I come home to see my father talking to a police officer. "Finally! He's gonna get what he deserves" I thought. But it wasn't until I saw that he wasn't in cuffs, the sad look on his face and heard the whispers from my neighbors as I'm passed by that something horrible was done. As I get closer to my father, he spots me and runs over. "Lisa sweetie, there was an accident. You're mother. She...." That's when he started to choke. I look around at the neighbors and I see that some are crying now. I stood in confusion until a police officer came and told me what happened. I don't remember what happened exactly. One minute I'm laughing and the next I'm in my father's arms crying. "Why?" I asked. That's when they handed me the note.
"Dear Lisa,
As I sit and write this letter to you, I cry with such fear. With weakness and heartbreak. Lisa my love, you must understand that what I did had nothing to do with you or your father, but everything to do with me. What you said to me this morning was a wake up call. I realized that I have failed you as both a mother and a role model. I was not strong when you needed me to be. I did not walk away from the abuse fast enough to show you that no man should ever put his hands on you. Darling, you have to believe me when I said that what I did was for the best. For both of us. Your right, I couldn't take the routine either. I myself was tired of being fake. I needed a way out and killing myself was the quickest way. You don't know how bad I wanted to take you with me baby. But I figured that you would miss out on so much that life has to offer. I'm so sorry I had to do this to you baby. But like I said, it was for the best. Just know I will be with you always. When you need me, just think of me and I'll be there. I love you so much.Promise me one thing. Promise me that no matter what life turns out to be for you, you will always be strong. Stronger then I ever was. I love you Lisa and I'll be counting the minutes until we are together again. Goodbye my love.
Love always,
Mommy"
All I remember from then on was someone screaming my name and then waking up in my bed. I get up to go see my mom. I look in the kitchen, in laundry room and in the bathroom. I check every room in the house and I still don't find her. I walk downstairs to the basement and I see a light on in the back room. I get closer and I hear mumbling. I walk in the room and I see dad sitting on the floor holding his wedding picture. Now I remember why I couldn't find her. He hears me and looks up. His eyes are blood shot red and he has snot under his nose and running down his chin. "I don't know why" he says. "We were so happy!". I don't say anything. I don't yell and tell him he's wrong. I don't sit and ccomfort him. Instead, I turn and go back upstairs. Leaving him to cry and choke. Leaving him to sit in the dark that he created. I go back to my room, close the door and just sit and stare. Not one movement came from my body. Not one tear came from my eye. I was numb. I was scared. I was alone. I was lost.
So I kissed my mother's picture, told her she looked beautiful today just like every other day. I walk into the kitchen and I start to make myself breakfast. As I sit and eat, I wonder why today of all days, the feeling was strong. "Maybe it will pass" I thought. Like the other times. I look at the clock and saw that if I didn't hurry I will be late to school. I put my dishes in the sink, wrote a note reminding myself to do them later and left for school. I say hello to Mr. Jacobs, a little old man who has lived next door since I was born. He was always a friendly man and would sneak me candy before dinner when I was little. It was our secret. However, he wasn't friendly today. Just like the day before and the day before that. It' s been like this since my mother had her "accident" as my father put it. Mr. Jacobs goes in his house but not before turning and giving me a sad look. I shrug and I keep walking.
About three blocks after, I spot my best friend Diana. She was talking to a boy and I ran over calling her name. She turns as the boy walks away and says "Must you yell? I heard you the first time!" I mumble sorry and we walk together to the bus stop. Diana was talking about a new pair of shoes that she saw in some magazine when I saw my boyfriend Chris talking to another girl. It wasn't the fact that he was talking to her that bothered me, but it was the way he was talking to her. He was about two inches away from her face and was just getting closer with each word that came out of his mouth. "See! Now that is the type of girl Chris needs in his life. Not a gross fat pig like you" Diana says. I ignore her cause I know what she says isn't true. I'm as thin as her and I've been approached by few modeling scouts when I was shopping at the mall, so I know I'm not ugly. I remember what my mom said "Some people say mean things to others so they can feel better about themselves."
I walk over to Chris and ask what's going on. The girl takes one look at me and snorts. She tells Chris to call her when he's done babysitting. Chris turns to me with a look of anger. "What is wrong with you? Why is it that you get mad every single time I talk to another girl? Get one thing straight, I'm a sophomore and your a freshman. I'm in charge. I say what goes. I only dated you last year because I felt bad that you lost your mother. Maybe we need to break up!" He turned and left without so much as a goodbye or I'll call you later. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I see Diana shaking her head. "He's right you know. Your mother is the reason you have him. Just imagine what it would be like for you if she didn't kill herself. OMG isn't today the one year anniversary? How did she kill herself? Pills right? What a coward!" I don't fight with her. I don't tell her she's wrong. Instead I wonder how I'm going to get Chris back.
My day goes on and I see Chris talking to the same girl. This time he touches her. All I do is watch. Diana ditches school to go to the mall with Alicia Cooper, but not before she tells me that I should lose weight and then laughs with Alicia. I walk home to avoid being on the bus with my usual after school bullies. I drag my feet all they way home and as I get closer to my house the drags get heavier. I walk in to find the house dirty but empty. I pick up the mail and search through it. Bills, fliers and community news letters. The last letter was addressed to dad. "Must be his monthly unemployment checks" I said. Dad quit his job about four months after mom died. He receives enough to pay the bills, rent and to put food on the table. Clothes and personal items relied on my college money that mom started saving for me when she first got married. That money was soon to run out.
I put the mail on the table and I started to cook and clean, this time I don't dance and sing. After the dishes are done and dads dinner is sitting in the microwave, I sit on the couch and turn on the television. I flip through the channels at least three times before settling for an autobiography on a famous celebrity. I must have dozed off because when I woke up the news was on. I checked the clock. It was 11:00, which meant it was time to get ready for bed. I check my dad's room and I see he wasn't home. His dinner wasn't touched. I started to turn all the lights off when the front door swung opened. "Where are you b***h?" slurred my father. I ran into the livingroom and my father looked at me. He came closer and I knew what I was getting. SMACK! I fall to the floor. Another hit to my face. Over and over again. I don't scream, I don't fight back. I knew if I did, then the beating would be harder and longer. So I just sat there and took it. I always asked myself why he would hit me. I never did anything. I answered my own question when he once called me by my mother's name during one of the beatings and then said "Why must you be like her?
Abou ten minutes go by before he gets tired and goes to his room for the night. When I hear him throw a beer can, I get up and walk to my room. I close the door and I don't even bother to check out the damages. Instead, I grab you diary, a small bottle, and I sit and write. I told you about my day. I shared my most precious moments with you. I just opened the small bottle and deposited all the small white contents in my hand. There is about thirty little pills in my hand that will take my life in just a few minutes. So diary, this is my last entry to you. I apologize for how it must end, but I must find my mother. I need her. And thinking of her isn't enough anymore. Take care diary, and thank you.
-Lisa

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar and misspelled words. This is not a real life story. Hope you like it. Please comment when finished