Stop Making Mama Cry.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
At a young age Sophie Andrews learned two very important things, not to make her Dad mad and to hide when he was. But after years of living this way she snaps and has to live with the concequences.

Submitted: August 13, 2011

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Submitted: August 13, 2011

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She trudged home from school that day, all the giddiness from school draining from her tiny body as she slowly approached the nightmare she called home. Her rail thin body was covered with stained blue jeans and an oversized turtleneck; a complete contrast to the seventy degree weather. The blooming trees and sweet smelling flowers mocked the little girl as she walked by. As she approached the small white house on the corner of Jackson Ave and Sizemore Lane, her footfalls became smaller.

As she moved toward the front door she saw her mom standing by the door frame. “Hurry on in Sophie; you need to get your chores done quickly. Your father’s coming home early.” Sophie cringed. “What do I need to get done today Mama?” Lucy Andrews smiled sadly at her little girl. “First you’ll need to do the dishes, then the laundry and the mending. Start the laundry first, so you’ll be done and in your room with the mending before he’s home. Now hurry.” Sophie bounded up the stairs, dropped her book bag on the floor and immediately grabbed the laundry baskets her mama had already set out for her. After finishing that chore Sophie hurried through the rest of them, keeping an uneasy eye on the clock fearing that five o’clock would get there to fast. When the last dish was done, she switched out the clothes and rushed to her room with the basket of her father’s clothes. Her mother was finishing up dinner on the stove, the table set in preparation for whatever the night may bring. Sophie knew all too well what Lucy knew. If Rod Andrews came home early, it would not be a good night.

Her father’s arrival came with a slam of the screened door and his immediate bellow for his wife. Lucy ran to his side, while Sophie ran to the closet. It had been almost a week since her last beating and she prayed to God that there wouldn’t be one today. She knew that those prayers would remain unanswered when not five minutes later, Rod was screaming her name. “Sophie, SOPHIE, get your scrawny ass in here!” her father yelled from the living room. Sophie whimpered and pressed herself deeper into the closet frantically racking her brain for the smallest detail that would disturb her father. Normally, if Sophie was in her room by the time Rod got home, she was all but forgotten to him. When something he considered she did wrong distressed him, only then did he take it upon himself to “punish” her for her mistakes. “Sophieeee, don’t make me come an getcha girl!” The words were slurred. She slowly rose to her feet, knowing that once Rod was drunk there was no stopping him.

The easiest thing for her to do was to step out of the closest and make life a little easier for her mother. If Sophie defied her father, her mama’s beating was a lot worse then normal. She unlocked her bedroom door and crept to the living room, mentally preparing herself for the sting of Rods belt. The domineering man was in the middle of the room holding his daughter’s book bag in his hand. Sophie flinched and mentally berated herself. Such a stupid, simple mistake she had made by forgetting to put her things in her room. Rod was a giant of a man; at six foot tall and weighing about two hundred fifty pounds he towered over his petite wife and daughter. His hands were huge, rough and calloused from years of hard physical labor. In contrast Lucy was a little bit of a thing, not even reaching her husbands shoulders, her rail thin body swallowed whole by her beige cotton dress. Rod threw the book bag onto the floor. “Is this how your mama taught you to keep a house clean, girl?” Sophie kept her head down, and mumbled “No sir.” Rod backhanded the small child, sending her sprawling onto the floor. “I didn’t ask for an answer!” Sophie didn’t move an inch, staying slumped on the floor as she waited for what she knew was next. Then came the familiar hiss and snap of her fathers’ dreaded belt. “Stand up!” he screamed, watching Sophie as she wiped blood away from her busted lip. Sophie stood, and closed her eyes. Rod lifted the belt and sent it flying towards his tiny daughter. Strike, after strike rained down on Sophie’s back, legs, stomach and face as Rod rotated around the living room. Ten hits Rod finally stepped back and shoved Sophie towards her room. “Now go girl, I don’t want to see you again tonight!” Picking herself up off the floor for the second time, Sophie half crawled, half ran to her room not stopping until she reached her haven in her closest.

She could hear the sick thud of flesh meeting flesh through the thin walls that separated her parents’ room from her own. Her mothers’ faint muffled screams echoed in her head. Sophie wiped her bleeding mouth with the back of her hand, already noticing faint bruises and cuts from when she tried to protect herself. Her head snapped up at a sharp cry from the other room. Lucy was now sobbing as Rod bruised her body repeatedly. Then suddenly, Sophie couldn’t take it anymore. After eleven years of walking on eggshells and countless beatings for both her and her mother, she couldn’t play the coward anymore, huddled in the closet as her mother took the brunt of her father’s rage. Without stopping to think, Sophie ran out of the closet through her room and the living room and burst into her parent’s bedroom. Her mother was curled into the fetal position, Rod leering over her with belt in hand. “Stop it!” screamed Sophie. “Stop making my mama cry!” Sophie hurled the glass figurines her mother collected on her on her dresser at Rods head screaming and crying while her father looked at her in shock.

“Why you little bitch.” Rod hollered, throwing the belt on Lucy’s head as he stalked towards his daughter. “No Sophie, No!” screamed her mother on the floor, struggling to her knees. “Run baby girl, Run!” but Sophie never moved. Instead she stood still, her body shaking with sobs, and deep rooted hatred for the man who had helped to give her life, yet stole everything else in return. “You heard you, your mama.” Rod taunted Sophie as he advanced closer. “Aren’t you gonna run baby girl?” Sophie shook her head defiantly and repeated through clenched teeth. “Stop making mama cry!” She moved quickly, one last figurine clenched in her hand. When Rod was close enough, she took aim and hit him square in the head. But Rod was one mean son of a bitch and wasn’t felled easily. With an evil smirk he grabbed Sophie and lifted her above his head. “See girl, look what you did. You made me mad.” Rod hurled Sophie to the ground, her bones rattling on impact, her breath stolen from her body. The fists began to fly. From her head to her toes Sophie felt every punch, slap and kick. Several minutes passed as the familiar sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed throughout the house. Lucy looked on in horror, unable to move. Finally Rod ran out of steam and again wrapped his beefy hands around Sophie’s small neck. “Now baby girl, you’re going to apologize.” Her father crooned in her ear. And then he began to squeeze. Paralyzed from pain and fear Sophie couldn’t speak. With both eyes blackened, she couldn’t see her fathers face. That almost was a blessing. Sophie began to grow weaker and weaker, the blackness settling in; the excruciating pain almost overwhelming her. And then, strangely enough it began to ease and she felt as if she were floating, rising above the pain and horror of the prison she had spent her eleven short years. And then blessedly, Sophie Andrews gave into the darkness, with only a faint sound of a shot ringing in the background as she faded into nothing.


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