There were a few times when I got to eat at the table with the rest of the family. Those times were usually when it was for "show" only, so that others could see just how "good" and "nice" we were treated. It was at those times, that we could eat, and do anything that we wanted to. However, I had to be careful, because the company could leave. I, on the otherhand, was stuck in that house, and the after eating discipline wasn't my favorite thing.
On the weekend, it was time to really clean. I had to make sure that everything was done properly, to the best that I could. It didn't matter how I felt. It didn't matter what I did. It only mattered that I was willing and able to please my mother, and do everything that she asked of me.
Weekends usually consisted of sweeping behind things in the kitchen, like the refrigerator, and the stove. It consisted of cleaning out cupboards. It consisted of vacuuming the livingroom, cleaning my parents room, making their bed, and cleaning the toilet. After the sweeping was done in the kitchen, and I had made sure that I had gotten every last crumb, I had to mop. Now, this mop was as normal to me as the mop that everyone else was used to. I didn't know any differently at the time. I didn't know anyone else would think it was discusting, and not have someone do it this way. I thought everyone had their child mop like this. Everyone. I couldn't use a mop and a mop bucket. I couldn't use anything like that. I had to get down on my hands and knees, and make sure that the floor was shining clean, with my tongue.
This usually meant that I had to spit shine the floor clean. I did this for almost three years that I could remember. Only once did I have to use cleaner. -R- stood there watching me the first time, to make sure that I was doing it right. Pouring the cleaner on the floor, and then licking it up, making me digest whatever cleaner that she wanted to use. It just made me really sick to my stomache, and I was puking, but that didn't matter, because if I puked on the floor, it meant that I had to clean that up too, with my tongue, which there was a couple of times that I had to do that.
I felt so bad. I hated my parents. I truely hated them. I wished they didn't exist. I wished all parents, no matter whose kids they were, were dead. I wanted them all dead, and I felt vad inside that I wanted my very own parents dead. I hated what they had me do though. I hated it when they wanted me to do things around the house, because I knew I had no choice. I knew there was no other way for me to live. I knew there was no other thing for me to do. If I sat there and cried about it, or told them no, then that meant, that I was getting another punishment, and I enjoyed cleaning the floor, better than I did some of the other punishments that they would have me do.
The floors had to be done, and I could look around and find only one other person in the house that could help me, and that was -K-. There was no way that she was even capable of doing that, so I knew I was alone. I knew there was only me. I knew I was the one that choose my destiny. I knew I was the one that choose whether or not I got more punishments. If I stayed good, then I wouldn't get them. If I did everything right, then I would get less punishments. I knew the destiny fell in my hands, and I was willing to choose the destiny that would enable me to live a healthier, less painful life.
Any chance I got, I would spit on the floors to clean them, and use a dark towel, so that after it was washed, there was no dirt shown on it. I would quickly put it in the laundry to make sure that -R- didn't see it. That was a lot better than using my tongue, and having to lick all of that nasty stuff off the floor, especially if I started puking. |
