Disturbed Mind

We were just getting off the school bus when she grabbed our hands. She was hurting us very badly. We had the impression that our hands were stuck in a vise. She was walking fast, in any case, her pace was far too fast for our short legs. I remember my fall on the sidewalk perfectly. I had to wear one of my little dresses because my knees were bleeding. My mother does not slow down her step. My hand still trapped in hers, my crying and begging as it dragged me against the asphalt never left my memory.

Apart from a few incidents like this, my mother never hit us. Not even a little pat on the head, nothing. Do I have to thank her for that? I don"t think so. On the other hand, this incident had repercussions on our entire childhood and adolescence: Adolescence which we did not really experience. Or maybe we experienced it differently? I don"t know. My reference points are too few to come to a correct conclusion.

After that day, Mom decided that for our own good, school would be at home. We left our rooms, crossed the garden and she locked us in a small outbuilding. That same evening, Dad chained us by the ankle. Thus began school at home. We had to study the entire cla.s.sical curriculum that every other child of our age had to study, but that"s not all. We also were spending several sleepless nights to initiate ourselves to the different monotheistic religions, in order to open our hearts to a G.o.d. My mother is a very open-minded woman in many areas. Without conviction, Dean and I, who were baptized and who often went to church with our parents, became Catholics. She baptized us a second time herself and finally this episode ended.

When I was a kid, I had only one friend. Her name was Anna. From the moment Mom locked us in the addiction, I never saw Anna again. I never saw anyone again except my parents and Dean. In fact, except on Sundays, we did not even see the sun anymore.

Taking this as a reference, I suppose many people have noticed this strangeness. Two children who are suddenly withdrawn from school. These same two children who no longer go to church, to the supermarket, to the local merchant, who no longer even go out in their garden. My aunts I saw every week couldn"t have missed, which is more than an insignificant detail? And the neighbors. My friend and Dean"s friends? One of the neighbours thought I was so beautiful, that she often brought me cupcakes that she made herself. This woman must have noticed that I was missing, no?

Actually, I"m wondering about that. Not once in almost 10 years have we heard of the visit of a police officer or any representative of the state and being unable to escape, we lived like this, locked in the small outbuilding behind the house.

We were living legally locked up. Every year we would start a new school year, fill in the few letters or forms that were addressed to us, which my mother would later post. We were not thin, we had no vitamin A deficiencies or I don"t know which one. Our meals have always been 3 per day and very full. Should I also say thank you to my mother for her concern for our health?

I got out of my prison once. Victim of an acute appendicitis attack, my mother waited until nightfall to quickly take me to a New York hospital. After you tell me, "If you open your big mouth, I"ll kill your brother." Dean is my whole life. After the operation, I waited silently for the days to pa.s.s. If she had told me, "I"ll kill your father." Well, Dad, peace to your soul, but sorry, your daughter wants to see the light of day.

Getting up, hugging with Dean, washing, breakfast, kiss Dean, studying, hugging with Dean, lunch, studying, kiss Dean, studying a little, still kiss Dean, all those interspersed episodes of dad who came to unleash his rage on us and listening to mom calling us trash and less than nothing that didn"t deserve to be born. Our heavy and rea.s.suring routine, which we performed as a necessary ritual, did not seem to have an end.

All this time, Dean was doing weight training with the means at hand. As for me, no, this kind of exercise is far too tiring. I would add that Dean was so beautiful to look at that I would certainly have regretted missing this show if I was muscling my skinny little arms. We had just celebrated our 16th birthday together when my father came toward me to let off steam. I did not resist it. First of all, I didn"t have the strength. Secondly, I really appreciated the negativity in the room during these little moments of intimacy.

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That evening, for the first time since I can remember, I received no blows from my father. I was tilting my head to the ground. I was protecting my eyes with my hands, but nothing. Worried, no, surprised, yes, surprised would be a more correct word to use here. Surprised, I turned my head.

I don"t applaud the scene I was watching because, as I said, I have no anger against my father, yet when I saw Dean punching him, it made my heart really hot. My love for Dean not knowing any limits already, to say that he had still grown up would be stupid, but it was beautiful. I took it as a sign of affection. Watching my brother beating my father who was already spilling his blood on the ground, I thought for a moment I was going to come.

My father stayed there, lying on the cold ground for a good hour. This kind of one-way combat happens about ten times, until one day: When he left, we were surprised to see that he didn"t lock the doors. But again, with the doors closed or not, we couldn"t move. He came back less than five minutes later with a key. First he took the chain off my leg, then he freed Dean and told us to get out of the house.

Dean got up easily. As I said, during all these years, he practiced weight training. However, this was not my case. My legs were not thin, there was nothing to note about them, but my strength was lacking. To be honest, it wasn"t a discovery for me. However, when after less than 50ft, I felt my legs shaking and devoid of strength, I regretted a little my lack of physical exercise. Being confined, brings its share of disadvantages: Especially if you"re playing the lazy little girl.