Page 1 of Finding Us
Chapter1
Prologue
Ifollow my mum through the front door, she’s just collected me from school, and I love this time of day—it’s my calm before the storm, you could say. These few hours in the afternoon that I spend with her are my favourite moments. This is when I feel safe, and it’s the only time me and my mum are free to be ourselves. Everything changes around 6 pm; because that’s the time my father gets home from work.
I’m sitting at the table doing my homework, chatting and laughing with my mum while she cooks dinner. It’s one of the few times I see her smile. She’s a different person when my father’s not around. She’s always jumpy and anxious but it escalates when he’s home.
My father acts as if he hates us, and I can assure you—as far as I’m concerned—the feeling is mutual. I’ve never understood why he doesn’t love us. I try my best to be a good girl, but nothing I do is ever good enough for him.
There have been times I’ve prayed for something to happen to him, which sounds terrible, I know, but I’ve truly wished for that. My father is cruel, and he’s always hurting my mum.
A sudden loudbangechoes through the house, as the front door slams closed. My mother and I both jump because we know what’s coming. My eyes dart up to the clock hanging on the wall;he’s early. I hate this dreaded feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when he gets home. That carefree feeling I experienced only moments ago is now replaced with fear.
I look up at my mum from where I’m sitting. Her hands are now violently shaking as she stirs the sauce on the stove. The look on her face breaks my heart; she looks terrified. I wish I could protect her fromhim, but she never lets me. She’s scared that he will hurt me again. He’s lashed out at me a few times in the past when I’ve tried to come to her aid.
My stomach churns as I hear his heavy footsteps approaching. When I glance over at my mum, she quickly motions with her eyes for me to leave the room; that’s our secret code. It means that shit’s about to go down. She told me years ago whenever she gives me that signal, I’m to go straight to my bedroom and lock myself inside. I’m not allowed to come out under any circumstances. No matter what I hear, or how scared I am. I have to stay there until she comes to collect me.
The waiting is torture.
This has been my life for as long as I can remember, and I truly hate living here with that man.I hate all men. I may only be twelve years old, but I’ve seen enough in my short life to know that men are horrible and mean. I don’t trust them—at all!
I’m never, ever getting married. I’m not even gonna have a boyfriend.
Once I’m in the safety of my room, I make my way over to the corner beside my bed. I always go to the same place because it’s the furthest position from the door. I sit down, and like so many times before, I bend my legs up against my chest. Wrapping my arms tightly around my knees and dropping my head, I start rocking back and forth.
I hear what sounds like someone being slapped. He’s hit Mum so many times before the sound is firmly embedded in my brain. The sound of metal clanging on the tiled floor quickly follows; it’s probably the spoon she was holding. I want to put my hands over my ears, so I can’t hear them, but I don’t.I never do. It would make it so much easier for me if I didn’t have to hear him hitting her. But I have to listen. I don’t have a choice.
What if my mum calls out to me?What if she needs me to save her?
“You fucking stupid, lazy, good-for-nothing bitch!” he screams. “You can’t even cut the grass properly, you useless piece of shit.” My breath hitches in my throat as I clamp my eyes closed.Slap … Slap.
“Please don’t hurt me,” my mum cries. “I’m sorry.” It breaks my heart when she begs like that. I wish I was stronger; I want to hurt him like he hurts her.
The trouble for my mum began yesterday afternoon when she was mowing the lawns and the mower stopped working.
“Please no,” I heard her plead as she desperately tried to get it to start again, but to no avail. When her shoulders sagged, I knew she was petrified at the thought of going inside to tell him.
My eyes followed her as she hesitantly walked across the backyard. Her body trembled violently as she slowly climbed the stairs before disappearing into the house to receive her fate.
I ran towards the back door and came to a stop when I entered the kitchen. I watched on in horror as she lowered her head before speaking. She always does this. I don’t know if it’s because she’s scared to look him in the eye or because she doesn’t want to see what we both know is coming.
“I can’t get the mower to start,” she whispered.
Whack. It earnt her a backhand across the face, followed by another hit to the side of her head. The hatred in his eyes as he towered over her made my stomach churn. It wasn’t her fault the lawn mower broke down, but logic never mattered to him.
When we sat down to dinner, the silence was deafening. Neither of us game enough to speak. My mother was now sporting a swollen eye and a fat lip that I knew from experience would be black by the morning. They’ve almost become a permanent fixture on her pretty face, hence why she’s always hiding behind those ridiculously large sunglasses when we’re in public.
When I side-eyed my dad, I saw his face was red with anger, and the way his nostrils kept flaring told me he was still fuming. I knew this wasn’t the end of it.
A short time later, he snapped again while my mum was doing the dishes. He’d been outside trying to fix the lawn mower, and when he couldn’t, he came back inside to take his frustration out on her.
He grabbed a pair of scissors out of the drawer in the kitchen before stalking over to my mum. He fisted a chunk of her long blonde hair in his hand and tugged on it hard. She stumbled as she was dragged back towards the door. Aside from a tiny whimper, she remained quiet. I could tell she was scared by her large terrified eyes, but she’d learnt a long time ago not to fight back. Never! It only makes him rage more.
The fear on her face made my heart hurt. The tears were already streaming down her cheeks, and as she passed me, the signal was clear. Go to your room, and stay safe. But I couldn’t move. The panic running through my tiny body kept me planted on my chair. My eyes were drawn to the scissors in my father’s hand. Will today be the day? The day he finally goes too far and actually kills her?
She stumbled again as he dragged her down the back steps, her legs grazing the wooden treads. She tried to regain her footing and stand, but he didn’t give her a chance. He continued to pull her across the yard by her hair. I willed my body to move, and when it eventually responded, I didn’t go to my room; I needed to know mum was going to be okay. I was petrified he was going to use the scissors to stab her.
My body shook and I protectively wrapped my arms around my waist, watching on in horror through the kitchen window.
