Journal

1
By Elliott Michaels

THE JOURNAL

June 3, 1985 My first therapy session wasnt quite what I expected. She couldnt understand the fear I have for my family, and I couldnt bring myself to recount the details. All I could say is shed have to see it for herself to truly understand, so she suggested we start a family journal so she can get firsthand perspectives. Its worth a try, I guess. Its not a big deal for meI write all the time. But its never about my own life. My fiction is a means of escape for me. While Im writing, I get to live somebody elses life, living and experiencing as they do. But I digress Ill never get my husband to participate, because if he knew that I was dragging a stranger into our business, hed kill me. Im pretty sure Ive seen my daughter writing in one, thoughIll just have to find it and make copies while shes out. Baby Joseph is too little to understand, but hes the reason I went for help. I dont want him to grow up like Janie did. Shes barely fifteen, but Im afraid it may already be too late for her. I just dont know how things ever got this bad. I know he loves us, but he just doesnt know how to show it anymore. Lifes made him hardmade him turn to alcohol to cope. And alcohol has made him mean. I just hope its not too late to turn things aroundfor Josephs sake.

Journal 2 I guess only time will tell, and through God, all things are possible, right? Maybe Joseph will get to have a normal childhood, after all -Mary

THE DINNER
June 7, 1985 The last few days of peace have been nice, but I knew it couldnt last. Im really lucky, thoughhe only hit me once this time, and you can barely see the bruise under my eye. I dont know what I was thinking by talking backthe dinner was a little burnt. I heard Joseph splashing in the toilet again, so I left the chicken on the stove while I hurried to clean the mess and get a bath started for him. I worked incredibly fast, but by the time I was finished, the food had blackened some on the bottom. I served it with the good side up, hoping he would already be too drunk to notice. Im so stupid, sometimes. If I had just made sure the bathroom door was shut -Mary 6-7-85 I hate him. I especialy hate it when he hits her, but at least it wasnt me this time. So the

food was a little burned on one side, nobody cares! Scrape it off and eat! I wish he was just dead, then he couldnt hurt us anymore. And I hate her for taking his shit! Sometimes I think if she hadnt took his shit in the first place, it would have never happened again. To either of us.

Journal 3 Thank god for Chris, though. Hes so sweet; hes the only good thing in my life. We played

hookie and just went and got high at our usual spot behind the grocery store. Dad would totaly freak if he knew, and Im sure hed kill both of us, but fuck him. Im almost sixteen, and he doesnt own me. Im not his little slave, like mom is. Anyway, me and Chris started making out after we smoked the bowl, and he still wants me

to give him a blowjob. Ive never done it before, and Im scared of hurting him or something, but I didnt want him to know that, so I just told him I had a sore throat. He got mad at me, and I hate myself for upseting him. Im going to have to do it soon if I dont want to loose him. -Janie

THE MARITALS
June 10, 1985 Im a horrible wife. My husband had a bad day, and all he wanted when he got home was to make love to me, and I was selfish enough to turn him down. I was just so tired! Josephs teething; and he kept me up all last night crying for me to hold him. If I stopped rocking for only a few minutes, he would start crying again. And there wasnt any rest to get today, because he still just wants me to hold him. I had to put him in his crib and let him scream for a few hours while I took care of the house. But that doesnt excuse me from fulfilling my duties to my husband. Mark shouldnt be punished because I had a bad day. If I had only been the wife that he needed, maybe he wouldnt have ripped my dress or forced himself on me before I was ready. I just hope he knows how sorry I am.

Journal 4 -Mary 6-10-85, 6-11-85 Do they think Im a little kid? I can hear everything through the walls of this shity house!

Why did she have to tell him no? Why couldnt he just leave her alone?! Whyd he have to hurt her? God, I hate it here!! I hope that fucker gets what he deserves one day. I just hope he doesnt kill somebody first! -Janie

THE PHONE CALL

6-11-85 I was so upset last night that I cried for hours before I finaly fell asleep. I must have looked

like shit this morning because Chris asked me if I was okay and offered me one of his jolts. Im so glad he doesnt know about my dad. Hed try to kick his ass like he did my ex-boyfriend when he heard what that asshole said about me. Except my dad would kill him. It wouldnt even be fair. - Janie 6-12-85 I dont know what Chriss problem is! We ditched class again today, and he wouldnt stop

buging me for a blowjob. He was all like If you want to be my girl, you better not let me down. So I just did what I should have done days ago and told him the truth: I didnt think I was ready. He got mad at me, called me a slut and a tease, and said he was breaking up with me. I was so shocked and confused that I could barely breathe! I was already almost crying when he started to go. I didnt want to loose himhes too important to me, so I grabed his arm and stoped him and begged him not to leave. I told him I would do it for him if it meant he would stay, and it was even worse than I thought. He reached down and grabed two handfuls of my hair and yanked my face to him, forcing it down my throat and gaging me. He didnt even let go at the end, and I swear I almost drowned in his junk. After I puked up my lunch, I felt so scared and hurt, and even though he thanked me over

Journal 5 and over again and kept telling me he loved me, I hated him for making me do that. But I love him so muchmaybe I should just get used to it. Janie June 13, 1985 Im scared for Janie. The school called today to let me know that shes been missing class a lot lately. If Mark finds out..I just cant watch that again. But if I dont tell him and he finds out, hell hurt both of us probably worse! I dont have a choice, I have to tell him. Its only 10:00 right now. Maybe if I call him at work and tell him, hell have time to calm down before he gets home. I hope. -Mary

THE RAGE
June 13, 1985 Im so scared. Im so scared. I think hes going to kill me. I dont know what he did with the baby, but I dont hear him anymore. God, if hes hurt my baby boy, Im not sure what Ill do. Hes already done so much to me, cant he just let it be enough? I cant open my left eye, Im pretty sure my nose is broken, my ear is bleeding, and my scalp is bleeding where Im missing a handful of hair. How much more do I deserve? I was so stupid for bothering him at work. After beating me for making him come home, he kicked open the door to Janies room and slammed it shut behind him. For the next few

Journal 6 minutes, I heard the sounds of wood splintering, glass shattering, and fabric ripping as he screamed unintelligibly behind her door. Then everything went suddenly, jarringly quiet. As the minutes passed, I began to wonder if he had somehow calmed down. That tiny hope had barely emerged when he exploded out of her room with a composition book in his hand. I recognized it as the one that I had been sure Id seen Janie writing in and assumed was her diary. He asked meif I knew what my whore of a daughter had been doing; if I knew what kind of trash I raised her to be. I automatically shook my head no, because I honestly know very little about Janie these days. He must not have liked my answer, because he began shouting more vulgarities than I care to write, and said hed show me what shes been doing, so Ill be sure to know. He grabbed a handful of my hair and threw me violently to the ground, forcibly ripping hairs from my scalp. I looked up to see him undoing his belt and kneeling on me, his eyes wild with terrifying hatredand pleasure. He forced me to perform oral sex on him right there on the kitchen floor, in front of an open window that faces the street. Ive never felt more humiliated and cheapened in my life. I felt broken and numbsubhuman, even. Even the screams of terror from my baby were barely audible to me as he watched the whole thing from his playpen in the corner.

Journal 7 When Mark was finished with me, he drug me to our bedroom and shoved me in the closet, promising to kill me if I come out before he says. After my eyes adjusted to the dark, I found my well-hidden journal. I know that if I dont survive this, at least there will be an account on my behalf. God, I hope Josephs okay. I wish he would cry out to me or somethinganything to let me know hes okay. And poor Janie. She has no idea what shes walking into when she gets home. I swear, if we make it out of this alive, were leaving. Hell probably hunt us down, but were damned either way. -Mary

THE KILLING
6/15/85 Im still in shock and disbeleif, but I guess I need to be happy just to be alive. I dont think

Im ready to talk about this yet, but the police need a statement. I might as well get it all out so I can make sure I dont miss anything when I finaly tell them what happenedso here goes. I got home from school that day and saw my dads car in the driveway. Hes never home in

the afternoons, so I should have known something was wrong and ran, but I was too worried about mom and Joey to leave them behind. I decided I at least needed to check on them. If things got bad, I was ready to run. It was too quiet when I walked through the front door and into the living room. I stoped

and listened for a second, but all I could here was the clock ticking on the wall to my right. Usualy, the TV is on and the baby is either crying or running around squealing while he plays. I walked

Journal 8 slowly, almost tiptoeing, to the kitchen door on the other side of the living room, stoping when I got there so I could listen. I thought I could smell a very faint, but unquestionable, smell of whiskeya smell that I have associated with at least a dozen of my worst memories. My heart began to race at the first whif. All at once, I heard the thump of a glass hiting the table, the screech of chair legs as they slid

over the tile floor, and the pounding of boots as they neared the door where I was standing. There was very little time to react, but I turned my back to the kitchen door to sprint for the front entrance. My legs hurtled my body towards the door, but my head was jerked backwards as I felt hair tear from my head. My feet flew out from under me and my butt hit the floor so hard it sent a jolt of pain like electricity up my spine. Still gripping my hair, he draged me, kicking and screaming, across the living room floor. When we got to my room, he threw me to the floor by my nightstand and stood between me

and the door, pointing this diary at me. He was yelling so loud that I could hardly understand him, but it was clear that he knew about everythingabout skiping school, about the pot, and about Chris. I was horrified as I realized he knew about the blowjob! He sudenly stoped screaming, and I could feel hot, involuntary tears on my face as I looked up at him. His eyes were wide in rage, his face red with liquor, and his eyebrows raised as if he just asked me a question. Answer me! he demanded. Do you think Im fucking stupid?! I just stared at him,

terrafied, knowing there was no right answer. He threw the book in my face, and the corner caught my right eye, blinding me. I could still feel, however, when he came over and slaped me across the face so hard that it knocked me from my kneeling position to all fours, then kicked me in my ribs so hard it rolled me to my back as I hugged my searing ribs with my arms. I was struggling to breathe, but I opened my good eye and saw him undoing his belt. At first, I thought he was going to beat me with it like he did when I was little. But he didnt stop with his belthe undid his button fly and took histhing out of his underwear. Hes always been abusive, but never like that. Not with me. I

Journal 9 was so confused, so overcome with physical pain, emotional panic, and nausiating revulsion, that I couldnt move. He dropped his weight on my folded arms, sending a new wave of pain through my ribcage and trapping my arms and hands. You little whore, he said calmly, but lethally. Youre just another cocksucking whore, like

your momma, arent you? He grabed my face under my chin and turned my head side to side, like he was looking at me for the first time. You even look like your mother, back when she was pretty. Panic like a riot spread through every vein in my body. I never thought he would rape me. I

could always heal from a beating, knowing Id move out one day and never seen him again, but I didnt know how I would ever get over this. Ill never forget what happened next, or the sacrafice that my mother made for me. After

years of puting up with his shit, she decided to stand up for me, even though she knew it would cost her. I wonder if she knew how much it actualy would cost her. Would she still have done it? She stood unsteadily in the doorway, armed with a steak knife, demanding that he get off of

me in the most forceful voice she could manage. He did as she said, redoing his pants as he steped toward her. She raised her weapon unconvincingly as he calmly advanced. Like any predator, he must have seen the fear in her eyes and her body language, because when he got within arms reach of the knife, he slaped it away, sending it flying across the room while slicing open the palm of his hand. You bitch! You cut me! he yelled. You did that. Not me she argued weakly, although even that took more courage than Ive

ever seen in her. Youre the one who held a knife against me, like you got what it takes to use it! And now,

when Im done with her, youre gonna get yourself another ass-whoopin, cause it seems like you forgot your place, bitch!

Journal 10 His words seemed to cause a shift in her. You will NEVER touch my daughter like that

while Im still breathing! she shouted this time, all fear forgoten. His face changed to that of a demon posesed by a eviler demon, and he set into my

defenseless, battered mother with all the ferocity of a rabid grizly bear. I had never seen anything so viscious, so hateful, as that. As I watched, I realized he wasnt going to stop this timehe was going to kill her. My ribs burned with every breath and my eye was swelling shut, but I had to find a way to stop him. I spoted the knife across the room and pulled myself to my feet. Praying he wouldnt turn around and see me, I went to the knife and picked it up, trying not to faint when the starbursts came after bending over. I straightened up and took a deep, determined breath. As he crouched over the limp, disfigured form and growled the most profane things I ever heard, I ignored the pain in my ribs and charged toward him, matching his anger with my own. He turned and stood as I reached him, catching me in a sort of grusome embrace. I clung to him with all the strength I had left to prevent him from throwing me off, and I sunk the steak knife into his back as many times as I could. By the time he finaly seperated me from his body, his back had over a dozen gushing holes, each of them greedily sucking his life away from him. He twirled around for a minute, trying to reach the cuts, I guess, but he quickly gave up and slowed to a stop. Our eyes met for the last time, and our mutual hatred was understood. His knees gave out as he was finaly effected by the loss of blood, and soon after he was gone for good. My mother was my first thought. There was a lot of blood pooling around her and she

wasnt moving. The light, rapid rise and fall of her chest was enough to let me know she was alive, and I darted to the phone to call 911. I went back to check on her, and she somehow forced open her mangled left eye to look at me. She reached up at me with a trembling arm and tried to speak. The only word I was sure she said was baby, and I suddenly remembered how quiet it was when I got home.

Journal 11 Understanding what she wanted, I sprinted to Joeys room and burst through the door,

crossing to the crib in two strides. Joey was sound asleep, still holding his bottle. Except instead of the usual white milk Im used to seeing in his bottle, it was half-full of a brownish liquid. Curious, I opened it up and sniffedit was whiskey. That bastard gave my baby brother whiskey to make him pass out and stop crying. I wondered breifly if hed ever done that to me, and I was already glad he was dead. I picked him up and ran back to my mother, who could move just enough to take him. She looked at me and tried again to tell me something. I couldnt make it out exactly, but Im pretty sure she was trying to tell me she loved me. I hadnt thought she loved me in years, but had no reason to dout anymore. I stayed by her and Joey and held her hand until the ambulance came. The EMTs were

visibly effected by the violence of the scene, but they pulled themselves together and did their jobs. Those of us I hadnt killed, including myself, were taken to the hospital, where my brother and I were treated and discharged into my aunt and uncles custody. My mothers still in the hospital, and nobody will give me a straight answer about her condition. All I know is what I overheard the doctor telling Aunt Sally, that she has severe brain trauma and shes coma-tose. I hope shes okay. -Janie

THE FUTURE
5/13/90 OMG, I cant believe I found this book! I guess I must be a pretty good writer, because

reading through it was almost like living it again. I forgot I ever wrote down all the details, but Im kinda glad, because now I can tell what parts of my memory are real and what parts came directly from my nightmares. I might as well finish the story. After I killed that son-of-a-bitch, my mom died in the hospital and left me and Joey with my

Jesus-Freak Aunt and Uncle. I could only put up with so much of that shit before I fucking had

Journal 12 enough and left. I went to live with Chris, and Im doing okay, I guess. I dance at the club uptown so we can pay the bills. Chris is between jobs after we ran out of money for his meth and he couldnt drag himself out of bed without the shit. To make up for it, he came up with the idea of selling ME. Hes always said what a good fuck I am, and it wouldnt be that hard to find people at the club to pay for it. I really didnt like the idea, but Im getting used to it, I guess. What the Hell else am I gonna do? I just wish hed actually let me have a little of the money I make. He spends almost of it on meth, weed, and cigarettes. Right now, Im looking for something to put in hock so I can buy another pregnancy test. I swear, if I have to have ANOTHER abortion, Im gonna fucking loose it! Well, good-bye, diary! Wish me luck! -Janie

8/22/2002

My name is Joe Waters, and Im beginning this

journal to make a record of my freshman year of

college.

I still cant believe I got a scholarship to

Journal 13

play football at TCU!!

Im sure my Aunt and

Uncle would have gladly paid my tuition, but theyve

already done so much for me, it feels good to bust my

butt and help them out.

Thank the good Lord for

them!

Ive only heard stories about my parents, but I

know they were troubled.

Speaking ofwere still

Journal 14

praying for Janie.

God-willing, maybe this will be

the last time she has to go through rehab!

Anyway, looking forward to this yearI know

itll be a good one!

Joe