To Be Anita E-Book

Suzann Dodd

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

There are ways to escape domestic violence.  Some require more planning than others.  There are ways one can 'disappear'  and become someone else.

This is the story of Donna Burns who grew in an abusive home, and became Donna Hurt, an abused wife.

This is how Donna Burns Hurt escaped.

Leseprobe

Suzann Dodd

To Be Anita

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Prologe

When I married Mark Hurt, I didn’t get the irony. It took a year of abuse to get the perfection of his name. I, once Donna Burns, was now Donna Hurt. All the time.

Unlike women who marry an abusive man and he cuts away ties to friends and family, I had no ties.

My mother had died when I was three years old. Within a month, my father had dumped me on his sister and took off.

His sister, Dottie, had been divorced by her husband long before I was born. Then, she had been injured at work. She made a big deal out of it. I don’t know the details, but somehow she tricked the government into paying her disability. She received a hand delivered cheque every month.

In the house, when we were alone, she only limped a little, as if her shoe was too tight. When there was a knock at the door or there was company, she’d be in her wheelchair behaving as if she were dying.

The first beating she gave me was a warning that if I ever told anyone she could walk, this was a sample of what I’d get.

Dottie usually used a belt to beat me, but would use whatever came to hand.

Almost every night she went out, leaving me alone. I loved that part. I was more afraid of her than I was of anyone or thing in the world. When she was out I could watch television, and fill my belly, just as long as I didn’t leave evidence.

I learned deception. It took a number of beatings, but I learned the ‘bait’. When I did my hunger search, if there were three tins of sardines it was a risk taking one. If there was one, that was instant beating.

I would only eat from boxes that were already open and had enough

For example, this box of cornflakes was opened yesterday. I could get two small bowls without question, as long as there was an open container of milk which was half full. There were six apples in the fridge, I could take one, the most two.

I learned how to open my window, how to climb out, and back in. I learned how to make myself almost invisible. I learned how to think ahead, so that if I did this, she would do that, kind of plan.

I don’t know why she hated me so much and found fault with everything I did, said, and how I looked. To put it simply, I did not have a happy childhood.

There was only one light in my cave, my one friend, Anita Barsky.

Anita was just my age, lived next door. Unlike me she had wonderful parents who loved her. From before I could remember until I was twelve years old, Anita was everything.

Anita was the only person in my life. The only one I could talk to, the only one who liked me. To be in her house, with her parents, was all that kept me sane as well as fed.

Then, when we were in 6th grade, her parents bought a condo and moved away. I cried so hard, Aunt Dottie slapped me, to ‘give me something to cry about.’

I went through Junior High School, then High School, a singular ghost. My life was getting up, extra early, making myself breakfast, as silently as I could. Getting my clothes on, and getting out.

Every morning I was able to escape without seeing Aunt Dottie was a good day.

I would walk to school, taking my time, and arrive early. I could shelter in a covered corner, read my book, do my homework. I attended classes and focused, for there was nothing else. I stayed as long as I could at school, because I didn’t want to go ‘home’. I joined clubs and teams so that I had a reason to stay. I spoke to people who spoke to me, but wasn’t outgoing or friendly.

I’d come ‘home’ and on occasion there was food prepared, sometimes I’d make a meal of whatever was available then get to my room and keep quiet so that Dottie wouldn’t remember I was alive. When Anita lived next door, I could go there. Once she had gone, there was no where to go, just simply be.

Looking back, I realise I was lucky that Dottie never did a bed check in those days when I could go to Anita. Dottie never knew how close we were. For Anita never came here, and the way the houses were situated, even if she peered from the front window, she couldn’t see me meet Anita and walk with her, or come home with her.

Once Anita was gone and I went to a different school, meaning I had to walk in the opposite direction, she could watch, but there was nothing to see.