The Scent of Watermelon (8)
Picking up from where I left off in Just my Socks , I was returned. Returned to that crazy house without any hope of getting out. I stayed away from the rabbits after that because it just wasn’t worth it anymore. The aggression and anger that John had towards me was gone. It was almost as if I didn’t exist anymore. I talked and no one listened or responded. They made meals and I had to fend for myself. It was ok because the beatings had stopped, at least for me. My mom was a different story though and it seemed as though her beatings worsened as mine stopped. I assume that his rage had to go somewhere and their arguments continued to get worse. I had no where to go and no one to talk to so I started to sing. I use to use the rabbits as a way to help cope with the hell that I was living, but since I didn’t have them anymore I had to find a way for my mind to escape it. The louder they arguments got, the louder I sang with my finger tips shoved as far into my ear canals as they would physically fit. It seemed to work at first
Meanwhile, back on the west coast, charges were filed against my mom for parental kidnapping. The problem was that no one seemed to know where we had gone. We simply vanished. My dad’s parents helped him to buy a house and set up a room for me hoping that they would find me soon. The girl, Karen, had moved in with with my dad now and they were playing house quite nicely. Neither of their families really approved, and yet no one felt the need to say anything. They said they couldn’t search because they didn’t know where to look so they waited for someone in my mom’s family to hear from her. Everyone just sat back and waited.
My mom wasn’t about to call anyone. She was drunk, she was in love, she was high, she was a victim of domestic abuse and she was pregnant again. Oddly enough, she was happy. Then one night an argument started that got out of hand. I really don’t even know what it was about or what had started it. The yelling and the smacking quickly led to my singing and me plugging my ears. I had to unplug them though when he chased her out the front door with a baseball bat. I picked up my sister and walked out the front door still humming. I didn’t want to see but had to make sure Mom was going to be okay. The neighbor came over and rushed Jessica and I into her house while calling the police. I watched through the front window. It was raining. I felt like I was watching a movie that I couldn’t turn off. The neighbor did the best she could to bribe me away from the window by giving me watermelon. I sat at the window for what seemed like forever. I ate an entire watermelon while watching the ambulance load my mom up and the cops take John to jail. I ate so much of it I threw up. I still can’t eat watermelon to this day. Even the smell turns my stomach.
I’m not sure how long I slept or where I even stayed. I really just don’t remember. Its funny how this happened to be honest. Most people block out all the horror and trauma that they experience as a child and remember the rainbows and sunshine. My mind has played this cruel joke on me where I have had the horrible luck of remembering all of this hell. These small bits of peace is what I’ve blocked out. Why would that be? I’ve always struggled with this. Did I really block out a good nights sleep or did I experience something even more horrific than the hell I remember? Maybe I just don’t want to know. What I do remember though is John coming home with my mom, or at least a woman that looked just like her. Still pregnant; she a few broken ribs, two blacks eyes, a broken wrist and some cuts a bruises. I’m not sure what changed but my mom was different after that. She didn’t say much or even smile really. She didn’t seem like my mom anymore. What I didn’t know was that her mind was preoccupied planning an escape. I just wish she had included taking me in that plan.