April Afternoons
Emma's father never was good at building things, but he spent time learning to change the doorknob to where the lock was on the outside instead of the inside. Before that, he would put a large and heavy chair in front of the door. Now after Emma came home from school, she was forced by her father into the tiny room. There were no windows in there. There was just a mattress with a thin pillow and raggedy blanket and a copy of Where the Wild Things Are and a small, old ceiling fan which spun on the slowest of speeds. Sometimes she would spend hours just staring up at the fan, becoming fixed upon the mechanisms that made the five little blades turn.
One April afternoon her father had gotten particularly drunk. Bottles of Jack Daniels were scattered all over the floor. Once the school bus dropped Emma off at her house, her father took a firm hold of her arm and through her into the lonely room. Usually he would just leave her there and maybe feed her something, but this time was different. He came into the room with her. He threw her onto the hardwood floor. Then he took her backpack and flung it onto her. He kicked her. She cried for him to stop, hoping he would find no use in hitting her and would rather want to watch TV, but he relentlessly kicked her. Blood ran out from spots where he had kicked particularly hard. The blood stained her yellow sundress. Then he ripped off her sundress. He hurriedly took off her training bra and panties. Then, while she screamed and begged for him to stop, he made his own daughter a victim of his rage and sexual desires. After that he left the house, got in his car, and drove off to God knows where. Emma, a fragile 9 year old, laid naked under her old blanket and prayed that her father wouldn't return.