Knowing she’s right, and as much as I try to remember why I have to be strong, I'm not Superman. I'm fighting a battle against Goliath, and I'm the pion he's about to squish. My father gets this way all the time. His normal persona is viewed only by family. It can be the slight closing of a door, walking down the hallway too fast, or maybe just chewing my food the wrong way that sets him off. This has been happening for years.
My oldest sister, Fallyn, left home when she was sixteen; and she is finally happy. No thanks to dear ole dad. He tried to control her, but she had too much of grandma’s stubbornness inside her to give up. Talk about a war...my sister not only won the battle, she escaped hell and his grip. But I was just a baby when all that went down. The other two, Jo and Sage, their stories are a little different, but the end result is the same. They’re gone too. Released from this giant chasm of hell. Home sweet home.
Looking over at mom, I can't help but wonder why she stays. She's beautiful and intelligent. She is a great teacher and loves her job. We could leave. She could take Addie and I far, far away, and we could live without the fear of making a wrong move, but she won't! Please, mom, tell me why? I've asked this question so many times, and she always shakes her head and gives me a lopsided smile. She will never leave him. She doesn't know how. Mom truly loves the monster she shares her life with.
"Don't worry, momma, this will be gone in a few weeks. I can hide it and no one will know. Let's just forget it happened," I quietly murmur. She cringes and barely nods.
Subconsciously, she knows I speak the truth. This isn't the first time he's lost his temper over nothing. When I was younger, it was worse, but as my body grew and he aged, the pain wasn't as intense. Don't get me wrong, it still hurts like a son of a bitch, but I've learned to garner that pain and turn it into something productive. My own personal vengeance. I will never be the rancher he wants.
Slowly but surely as my sisters returned to Lakeview, it’s helped rein in his fits of anger. My father is aware of their presence and won’t act out while they are around. In their own way, they are protecting us. Ensuring he walks the line...straight and narrow. Addie is the one who’s benefited the most from their presence. He’s never touched her in anger, and they won’t allow him to. Thank God.
My father’s abusive nature was bred from his father’s. It’s a dirty secret the infamous Blackwood family has tried to contain, and only a few have witnessed the brutality. He’s a well-respected deacon in the church, rubs noses with politicians around the State, and sits on several committees for some of the wealthiest businessmen in the Panhandle. Shit! He’s one of those wealthy men! Looking in from the outside, he is the perfect husband and father.
"I love you, my sweet boy," mom whispers. Standing with difficulty, she takes Addie by the hand and leaves my room.
I'm left feeling bereft. My body is on fire as a constant reminder of what started this mess. Earlier, we were all sitting around the dining room table eating dinner. Mom had made the best chicken potpie, and I was on my second helping when I casually mentioned my intention to apply to West Point. That was the moment his fist flew across the table and connected with my body. Dishes crashed to the floor along with me. From there it escalated to his favorite leather belt and several unwanted bruises along my back and torso.
How would I know that he had other plans for furthering my education? He's never before called attention to where I should go. That's the problem. He never asks me anything. When he decides it's time for whatever he has concocted in his head, I'm told what to do and how to do it. Some things never change.
The next morning, I'm woken to the light blaring in my eyes and my father fiercely shaking me. In an unconscious moment, I move quickly, escaping his reach. Years of practice and know-how have taught me that maneuver. Sleeping lightly is the other. I'm on the other side of my bed, using it as a barrier between us. Trusting my instincts to keep me from harm and out of his reach.
"Grayson, you're making us late, and I need to leave here in the next five minutes!" my father yells as he exits my room. It’s his usual demeanor. You can't change the spots on a leopard, I'm told.
I remind him as he retreats down the hallway, “I have ROTC practice today, sir.” He mumbles his disgust as his heavy footsteps retreat down the hall. My whispered hope is that he’ll leave and I can drive my truck today. One can always hope.
Another day in the life of Grayson Blackwood. Stumbling into my bathroom, I jump in the shower and get ready for school. School. It's the only venue I have to express myself. I'm not an artist. Couldn't draw stick figures. No artistic talent here. Although each member of my family is musically gifted in one way or another. My talent lies with a six-string guitar.
Just one more year, I tell myself, one more year until I can leave this wretched house and never return to Lakeview, Florida, I vow to myself as the water washes away all of the filth from the day before, washes it away down the drain along with my free will. For now, I have to bide my time. Just like my older sisters, I’ll make it out. I have to.