Prologue

“Your a disgrace! A worthless piece of shit. Dirty. Outcast. Slob. Nothing.” My father’s words pierce my virginity stricken ears. That would be me, Sarah Householder, nine year old disgrace at your disposal. I am nothing in the eyes of my parents; just another mouth that they feed. Living with my parents, I am abused quite often. Verbally and mentally. It’s exhausting sometimes. I am kept away from windows, and witnesses. Anyone who might be able to tell authorities what is happening behind closed doors.

Mt. Saint Mom and Hurricane Dad are at it again, yelling and cursing at one another, the wrath of both of their anger is soon turned on me. Cussing and screaming, stomping and spitting. This is only round one of tonight’s cage match between us. I soon find myself running up the stairway to my room. I slam the door shut and hide in my closet. I have done this too many times to know what is going to happen next, but not anymore. I am not going to let daddy hit me like he does. I search the bottom of my closet for a weapon of some sort, anything that could bludgeon my father’s head down into his shoulders. I find my baseball bat from my T-Ball days. I figure it would do some good. I wait and I listen for the familiar stomping of dad’s drunken footsteps clambering up the stairs to come find me. This time I’ll be waiting for him to find me. I want him to find me this time, because this time, I’ll kill him.

My bedroom door opens with a slam, knocking the painting I did in second grade off of the wall with a loud crash. I hold my bat in my hands, standing silent, waiting for the door to open up as I know it soon will. I hear the knob start to turn, I hold the bat like an ax over my head, ready to bring it down on his skull. The door opens quickly as my dad see’s me standing there I swing that bat fast and nail him on top of his head, knocking him down to his knees. I swing again and hit him once more on the top of his head, he falls to the ground, still breathing, but out like a light. I ponder for a second if I should stop…But thinking about it, daddy never stopped, I would plead and plead for him to, but he never did. Why should I? I attack him again, bruising his skin and swinging like I’ve played baseball for 20 years. I figure this would be enough and go to find Mt. Saint Mom, who is sure to still be erupting.