Project Title: She Just Couldn’t Take It

By: Shasta Backus

Vignette: The Attic

The attic is a scary place. The floor creeks. The door squeaks. As I lay staring at the ceiling, the dark brown wooden-paneled walls seem to cave in. It might not be the best place, but it’s my safe place. It’s my Heaven.

My dad is always drinking and somehow his rough red hands always find a way to meet my mom’s pretty pale face. Here, no one knows the meaning of quiet – just constant arguing. Daddy tries to hit me, too, but I won’t let him. When he comes after me with raised hands, I run and hide in the attic. Daddy never looks for me there.

The attic is my safe place, but daddy doesn’t know. Daddy doesn’t know lots of things. He doesn’t know how every time I feel his hand touch my face, it pierces my skin. He doesn’t know how much I lay awake crying at night wishing I were dead. He doesn’t know how Mama gets tired of fighting with him and says we’re leaving (but somehow never make it out the door). She tells me she loves him too much to leave.

Days when Daddy’s mad, I sit alone crying in my safe place – the only place that can be called my own; the attic.