By: Brittany Eldridge
Beside the fridge, I hide, from that monster.
Nervously, my little heart racing, waiting.
A dysfunctional home, he was creating.
Dark circles around his eyes, a hand that would hurt you.
Six years old, weekend visitation with dad, i'd sit out on the porch and beg to go home, to protect mom from the abuse.
My piggybank stolen, police banging, gas stations robbed, pepperspray sprayed, glasses smashed; what was the excuse?
Highspeed chase, trying to escape, it's a great thing we didn't end up dead.
As my little heart racing, crying, experiencing a nightmare, he yelled: "Shut The F*** Up" and go to bed.
Plates being thrown like frisbees at my mom's head, I pretended like everything was normal instead.
My babysitter's house became a safe haven, where I could be a child, swing, run, and pick blueberries.
If only that monster was an imagination that most children experience, had my childhood not been scary.
-Brittany Eldridge
Narrated Version: https://youtu.be/SFhE4D1ET74
