Eyes Down Face Forward

Author: Eshda3wa Copyright © 2007
Blog: Eshda3wa
Location: Kuwait

Eyes down, face forward. I try really hard to wipe any facial expressions. Can’t show a thread of emotion that would give her the satisfaction of knowing that she gets to me. “You’re worthless! You’re good for nothing!” I try not to smile; I’ve heard these words so many times before. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand! You’re like a dog! Exactly like a dog!”

My mind takes me away, takes me to places I wish I could be, right this moment anywhere would be better than here, even the cold marble floor of the bathroom. I think of the beach, sand between my toes, air so salty I could almost taste it, almost. SLAP! My face snaps to the side as soon as her hand comes in contact with my cheek. I can taste blood, but it doesn’t matter, I don’t even mind the throbbing. I just want it to be over so I can go to my room and finish reading my book.

Eyes down, face forward. She still doesn’t stop yelling at me. I don’t know what she was exactly yelling at me for. I stopped listening to a word she says a long time ago. “I have failed in raising you! You embarrass me! Sometimes I feel I just hate you! I hate you and I curse the hour you were born!” What have I done wrong? I really don’t remember. I was in my room reading when her screaming pierced my ears, calling me to come to the living room, where I really don’t do much living at all. I’m always in my room trying to avoid her. I love it when she’s not home. The moment she comes back, I am in my room again. She knows my only escape is my books. That’s why she took them all away. She even tore a few of them up in front of me, and then she told me she’s going to use the rest to start a fire for her barbeque party. I cried then. I saw her smug smile, and that’s when I promised myself never to give her the satisfaction of knowing she gets to me. What she doesn’t know is I have a few books hidden under my bed, I’ve read and reread all of them, but I don’t mind, and then there are the books I get from the library at school. I don’t know what I’d do if she ever tore one of them. WHAK! A slap to the side of my face sends my glasses to the floor, “When I talk to you, you answer me you hear!” I nod my head in acknowledgement.

Eyes down face forward. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one day! Your going to send me to the hospital!” Oh how I wish! How I wish for the day you topple down and die! It would be the happiest day of my life! Even happier than the day I get the courage to pack my bags and leave. I have money saved up. I need a little more to buy myself a ticket out of here. “When I talk to you, look at me!” I lift my eyes slowly, her face red, only inches away from mine, I can feel her repulsive breath on my face, her eyes bloodshot, her hair perfect. Yes, she always manages to look perfect. I always wonder if she’s drunk. Is it possible that she turns into this monster because she consumes alcohol? Her mouth is now moving, I focus on her forehead, and I can’t look directly into her eyes. She would never drink, she’s a devout Muslim. I remember her beating me to start praying, everything was physical with her, everything except love and affection that is. SMAK. “When I talk to you, do not raise your eyes to me!” I keep on forgetting to balance between the looking down and looking up, nodding at the right times, and the occasional yes I understand. It’s a routine I have perfected over the years.

Eyes down face forward. My mind can take me to dark places. There I am capable of murder, of committing acts of torture I have only read about in my books. How I would love to slit her throat. Watch her die slowly, it would be heaven. I can feel a smile creep on my face, but I quickly wipe it away. I can’t show any emotion. I am stone, I am silver, I am gold. I am not human. I do not exist, this is not happening to me. I am a bird; I can just fly far away. I lift my eyes to look at her, I wonder if she can see my loathing on my face just as clearly as I can see hers. God how I hate her. God? Why do you let me suffer so much? “Go to your own room, I don’t want to see your face.” Good, I don’t want to see yours either. I get up and quickly dash to my sanctuary.

I sit on my bed, but I don’t dare get one of my books out now. She will come to check up on me in a while, maybe scream some more, tell me I am worthless, only then I can read. I lie down, my head on the soft pillow, everything in this house is perfect, everything except me. I stare at the ceiling and feel the tears forming at the back of my throat. I try to swallow. I will not cry! Never again! I am young, and one day I will leave, I’ll make my own way, I’ll have my own money, I’ll buy my own things, an I’ll never ever see her again. The monster that God had sent me to. Why would God do that to me? I have to believe he has something better in store for me. Something to hold on to, I am young; I still have my whole life ahead of me. But, my heart feels so heavy, and every night I wonder if it would do me any good to even try. Maybe I should kill myself.

I’ll ask the nurse in school tomorrow, she always says nice things to me, she’s the only one that knows about the monster I have at home, she only knows cause of my bruises. It took me a while to tell her. I was too afraid they would call to ask her about me and I knew the consequences would be too severe. Even though my skin got used to the beating, I still hate the confrontation. The nurse will know what to do. She can save me, she must!