Life with the black demon

- Let’s go, Sandra’s coming, she’ll overhear what we’re talking about.

If I complained or cried to my mother, she would say that it was nothing and that one day, when we all grew up, we’d be eager to spend time with one another.

One day, father and mother went for a walk in the fields. They said they would be back soon, and that we should be in the house and behave ourselves. I, as the eldest daughter and sister, wanted to surprise my parents and I cleaned the house nicely. Regardless of his behaviour, my father was very clean and meticulous, the same as my mother.

As a child, I was always required to do some work around the house, mostly to clean and tidy up. Before their return, I started cleaning used coffee cups. As I was wiping the cups, two coffee cups fell to the floor and shattered. I panicked and was afraid what my father would say or do when he found out about the broken cups. I cried, and my siblings told me that was my own fault, and that I shouldn’t mentioned them when the whole situations came to the light. My parents came back from their walk and as I was collecting tiny pieces of glass from the broken cups, my father started yelling at me and insulting me. Since I wanted to explain to him how it happened, I started to stutter so much at that moment that I couldn’t produce a word. Mum tried to calm him down, but it was in vain. He started making fun of me for talking and mocked “STUTERRRERRRR”

I could hardly stand it. He started beating me, he grabbed a belt with a metal strap and started hitting me as hard as he could. Petrified, I urinated in my pants and I was shaking. The more I cried, the more he hit me. He hit both my sister and brother, and they said they didn’t do anything, that I broke the cups.

Mum tried to calm the situation:

- Please, don’t mind the cups, that’s not a reason for the child to be beaten. Let her go, you’ll kill her!

My mother’s words had no effect, anger seized him even more, so he lifted me and threw me on the bed. Then he took a chair and threw it at me. He hit mum so hard that she immediately fell down. He cursed her father, mother, brother, sister out, just because she tried to save me from him. Usually, in addition to the beatings, my father almost always punished me with work, which meant that whatever he ordered me to do I had to do it immediately. It was mostly cleaning.

Soon after that, my father bought some hens and made a place for them behind the house. During the day, he would let them out, so one of us had to keep an eye on them, so that they wouldn’t run to the garden and destroy the crop.

The next day, or rather the next night we went to sleep. The three of us were in the same room together, my mum put plastic film under me because I used to wet the bed almost every night. That was caused by fear I had been going through for years, as I found out much later.

The rustling of the plastic film was so funny to my brother and sister, because they could hear my every move that way. We all laughed uncontrollably. We heard someone banging for us to calm down. It was even funnier for us and we laughed out loud, which we were not allowed to do. Father came in with a belt in his hand and hit each of us with it. Naturally, we got scared and immediately fell silent. It no longer occurred to us to make a noise. That night passed also, somehow.

Morning came. It was as if nothing had happened in the house the night before. My father talked to us in a normal way, we had breakfast and then went for a walk in the nearby meadows. Mum went to work the next day.

Summer vacation was approaching. After school we hurried home to play with friends who lived upstairs.

The boy who was always playing with us became my crush, even though at the time I didn’t even know what that was. We were ten-year-old kids. Sister vomited a lot during that period. She often had stomach pain and nausea. Mum and sister had the same symptoms, they both had hernia on both sides of their bodies. My sister stayed in the hospital because they had to operate on her. They let us know when the operation was over. I wanted to visit my sister together with my parents. Mum and dad were very sad about my sister. While walking, I saw “some” emotions awoke in my father that had not been visible until then, and especially not tears. I missed my sister very much because we spent a lot of time together. She recovered and seven days later she came home. She had to rest at home until her sutures got removed. I helped her any way I could and I was happy she was with us.

Dad disappeared the next day, he went to get drunk, and in a way, we were happy, because we were left alone with mum.

When he was home, my father wouldn’t let us watch the TV, he would often shout and order us to turn it off. He prohibited mum from watching soap operas. We could watch the TV freely when he wasn’t there. We loved when he was not there. My sister and I were playing with Barbies we had brought from the old flat.

Our enjoyment didn’t last for long. Father, as always, came drunk and the first thing he saw when he came in were our scattered toys. It bothered him, he took the belt out of his pants and started beating us. He didn’t even pay attention that my sister had just recently came out of surgery, he hit us. We promised that we would never leave things on the floor again and that we would always make sure that everything was clean.

The next day, we were all sitting in the house, and the parents were talking about summer vacation which was coming soon and that the two of us were about to go to spend some time at granny’s house. They decided it would be my sister and brother. I was sad, I wanted to go. My parents said that my brother and sister would stay there for 20 days, and when they returned, I would go. When they left I remained alone in the house. I was very bored; I didn’t know where to go or what to do with myself.

Friends from the neighbourhood also went to their relatives over the holidays. Mum worked every day. By the father’s orders, I had to clean the house every day...

The bite of the black demon

A

beautiful and sunny day dawned. I had no idea that for me that day would be darker than a black night. I woke up, I was alone in the house. Nothing unusual in those days. Mom was at work, dad somewhere absent. Excited about being home alone that morning, I got up and made myself breakfast. I enjoyed my breakfast while watching the TV.

Although I was happy, or merely believing I was, still deep inside I felt some uneasiness. I could not describe that unrest. Perhaps, I thought, it was because I didn’t finish my breakfast and father might come back and find out that I still haven’t tidied up and cleaned everything. Unfortunately, my apparent peace and tranquillity didn’t last for long.

Father appeared at the door with a man whom I didn’t know. He was drunk, in fact, I had never seen him so drunk before. He looked at me in a strange way. I felt terrified, though I had no idea why I felt that way. Maybe I had a hunch, I don’t know. I just couldn’t get rid of the agitation I felt in my chest.

I said to myself:

- God, help me, don’t let him be mad at me!

I was scared by that look. In a commanding tone, he ordered me to find something to eat in the fridge and bring some alcohol from the pantry. I dutifully carried out the order. Father leaned back on the couch and turned the music volume up. He was hugging that stranger, and they were singing and laughing. Suddenly, the guest got up and decided to return to his own home. We were left alone, my father and I. Even in the darkest thoughts, I could not imagine what would happen in the next few hours. I sat down and he told me to get up and come sit closer to him. I thought he was going to hug me like his daughter... He was drunk. I don’t know why, but I felt fear, nervousness, and nausea inside me.

He put me in his lap. Although he almost never did, even though as his child, I longed for my father’s embrace, I didn’t feel well at the time. He started stroking me and saying I was his princess. His gaze was strange. I shuddered. Then he started touching my legs. I was confused. I didn’t know what such touches meant. He is my father. I am only ten and a half years old, I loved him. Although I was afraid of him, I loved my dad. And no matter how drunk and rude he was, I always tried to see the best in him, just like any little girl would.

He pressed me harder to his lap. I started shaking. He spoke words he only said to my mother, I remembered them:

- You are so good, pretty and I will never let anyone touch you except me. Even when you grow up, you will be mine.

Even though I was a child who didn’t understand any of it yet, I understood what he meant. I froze. Few minutes later, he started kissing me all over my body. I tried to pull away without success. I was terribly frightened when I felt his tongue in my mouth. Until then, I never dreamed that my father could kiss me like this. I could smell his foul breath and the smell of stinking alcohol all over me. I was shocked. Helpless to do anything. I couldn’t even scream. I only cried. I remember my words well:

- Dad, why are you kissing me like that? That’s not how kids should be kissed! Let me go, please! Let me go, I beg you!

To all my pleas and begging, he just said that I shouldn’t be afraid and that everything would be over quickly. I froze. I felt trapped in his arms... I knew, looking at his face, that I could no longer say a word, because that, as always, would only cause trouble, beatings, shouting.

I prayed for mum to come home. I prayed for anyone to appear, anything to happen just to save me from all of this. I said to myself:

- Mum, where are you? Why don’t you save me? Why did you leave me alone? Why did you have to go to work today?

He didn’t stop. He just kept going... He removed clothes from my body, piece by piece. I still didn’t know what that meant. He kept touching me where he wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to do that! Yet he did. His hairy, big hands slid down my thighs, and my body. Restless fingers stroked all over my body. I was trying to get away, but I couldn’t. Out of fear, shock, uncertainty... He crossed every line with those fingers. It was clearly not enough for him. He carried my little body to the couch and lay down on me with all his weight. He captured me. He jumped on me like a scary black hound. I couldn’t understand what he wanted from me. Even though I wanted to scream, I lost my voice... He overpowered me. I couldn’t even look at him. My eyes were full of tears. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. All I could feel was the weight of his body and the putrid smell of alcohol. He forced himself inside of me! At that moment, I felt severe, unbearable pain. I screamed! I begged him to let me go. He covered my mouth with his hand and continued to defile my weak and small body. I knew, that was the bite of the black demon, my biggest nightmare. It went on for about ten minutes.

For me, those ten minutes were an eternity. It was the worst torture and the greatest pain I could remember. Not even all those beatings, harassment, nothing could compare to the pain I felt then. I wanted to die! Disappear! I wanted to be no more!

When he finished, he told me to get up and go to the toilet to wash myself, and then to come back. I barely got up and went outside. I hid behind the house and sat in the woodshed. I was broken both mentally and physically. I was afraid to go back inside because I wouldn’t be able to go through that horror again.

A few minutes later he came outside and called my name loudly:

- Sandra, Sandra, get over here right now you fucking bitch! You’ll rue this day if you don’t get over here.

Even though I didn’t want to, the fear spoke out of me. He found me and made me go back to the house. Standing there at the door, he slapped me, knocking me to the floor. I was lying in the foetal position, my stomach hurt terribly. I was wearing white tracksuit and blood started appearing on the fabric. Seeing the blood, I was even more scared. I was confused, lost. I didn’t know what to do. Completely petrified, I urinated. He forcibly lifted me, grabbed my hand and ordered me to take a bath. I went to the bathroom. The underwear I was wearing was covered in blood. I took the blood-covered clothes and packed them in one bag. I was terribly afraid that my mother or someone else would discover the clothes.

When I took a bath, I came to the living room. On his command, I sat down next to him. He said:

- What has just happened here you are not going to tell anyone, especially not to your mother, you will have to keep it for yourself until you die! You are going to forget about all of this right now!

There was nightmare in my head, buzzing in my ears, my gut was shaking. I stared at him with a look filled with hatred and fear. He said if I mentioned any of this to anyone that he was going to kill all of us, to commit a massacre, because he didn’t mind spending time in prison:

- I’ll kill you all, it’s nothing for me to kill someone, I will go to prison after that, I don’t mind, but you won’t be alive anymore, you motherfuckers.

I got really scared then. He made me scared by his threats, which he would surely fulfil. I shivered as he shouted:

- Why are you shaking? Why are you crying? Why are you sobbing?

I knew, from that moment on, my family’s life was in my hands, because if I said anything to anyone - everyone would be dead.

After about an hour, mum came home from work. I was sitting on the couch with my head down, my eyes swollen and red from all that crying. When she saw father angry and drunk, she knew something had happened. She had no idea that what had happened was the worst experience a girl, or anyone’s daughter could go through by her own father’s doing.

I was thinking about telling my mum what happened. How could I tell her? I couldn’t, because I knew that her heart, like mine, wouldn’t survive it. Additionally, there would be an utter massacre.

She asked father:

- What’s the matter, old man? Is everything all right? What did Sandra do that would bring her to tears?

I wanted to scream and say everything, but then I raised my head and saw my mum’s scared and questioning look. I told her:

- It’s nothing. I didn’t do anything.

Mum, as though she sensed something was wrong, began to cry. I got up to hug her, and my father noticed that the tracksuit I wore had blood on it. He reacted furiously:

- Fucking bitch. Take her out of here, take her to the bathroom, get her out of here and talk to her about a menstrual period.

He didn’t stop swearing:

- Fuck all of you, your father, your mother, your sister and brothers, fuck all of you; you didn’t teach her anything. Do you see her walking around me like that? Has she no shame?

Mum took me to the bathroom and looked at me in complete shock. She talked to me about sanitary pads, I didn’t even know what those were, let alone what they were used for. Mum bathed me again. I was crying. She saw the bruise on my arm and she knew he was beating me. She thought that was the reason I was crying. She helped me get dressed, put a pad in my panties and started crying along with me.

She hugged me and said:

- My God, how much longer? Oh God, have I sinned so much that you have to punish me like this?

I didn’t know if mum knew or if she noticed what actually happened.

She told me that all of this would pass one day, that I should study hard, be smart and that one day, God willing, I will get married and have a wonderful husband who won’t behave like this, like my father behaved towards us.

I asked:

- When exactly is this going to happen?

Our conversation was interrupted by my father’s yelling:

- You two, come here right now. He started shouting at my mother.

- You fucking whore, who are you crying for? Explain to me who you’re crying for, fuck your whole family and that crazy father of yours.

At that moment, the most important thing for me was just to protect my mother, so she wouldn’t get beaten.

We sat down. Mum tried, as always, to calm him down:

- Come on, old man, let’s calm down. Let’s turn on the music. Do you want something to eat?

He played the role of a “master,” while we were victims who had to obey him, or as the expression goes, “to dance to his tune.”

That wasn’t a problem for us, especially for my mother, who most of all wanted peace in the house, so that no one would touch or shout at anyone... He used to tell my mum that we all irritated him and that we would make him do the worst possible thing that is to kill all of us.

Thanks to my mother, father calmed down a bit. She always did and tried everything to calm him down.

Night fell. It was raining. We could hear thunder, and we could see lightning. He made me go to my room. Mum was right behind me and she put plastic film on the mattress because I’d wet the bed almost every night. The gloomy weather made me even more crushed and disheartened. Lightning illuminated my room. I lay down, covered my head and cried. Mum would always come and kiss me goodnight. Truthfully, after that day, I didn’t look at my mum the same way either. I was disgusted by everything. I could smell the abhorrent odour on myself. I couldn’t get rid of his odour, the smell of alcohol that left a deep mark on my brain.

I heard mum and dad having sexual intercourse in the next room. I heard my mother’s moans. I couldn’t understand how he could do something like that, after everything that happened, after the beatings, shouting, swearing, after what he did to me.

I didn’t fall asleep until the next morning. My mind was racing. I was sad at first. I wondered why I couldn’t be in the position of my sister and brother. They had fun and enjoyed the wonderful time spent together with grandparents. I knew they were having a nice time at the farm. Working at the farm brought nothing but happiness to me.

Sunrise. I didn’t want to leave the room, nor did I know how to get up, what to say, or how to behave. I heard my father got up. He opened the door and entered the room. He acted as if nothing had happened the day before.

I couldn’t look him in the eye. In those moments, I wished I didn’t even exist. I was trying to find a solution. I was trying to find a way to tell someone what happened. Even when I thought of something in my head, I quickly dismissed it. His words, that he would kill us all, which were etched deep in my consciousness, would always discourage me! Those words were enough for me to dismiss any intention I had to complain to anyone.

Mum was free from work that day and everything she did, no longer made any difference to me. She entered the room and asked me to take off my underwear to see if I was still bleeding. When I took my clothes off, there was no blood, there was no severe stomach pain from yesterday.

She told me I had to be careful now. The first thing she emphasized was that I had become a “more mature girl.” A ten-and-a-half-year-old girl?

I thought to myself:

- Oh, mum, can you not really understand what had happened? Don’t you suspect anything?

Not a day went by without me crying. As I cried then, so I cry to this day. The only emotions I had were sadness, pain, shame and betrayal.

I became disinterested about anything. I cared for no one. I didn’t even ask when my sister and brother would be back. I just lived my life because I had no other choice. I was never aware that there is a brighter side to life.

He, my father, ruined my childhood. He ruined my life. He marked me for the rest of my life, even though only he, I and dear God knew about it. The rest of the world could not understand the pain. I had to carry a heavy burden on my young and weak shoulders.

My childhood was monotonous, there was no one I could trust but myself. I didn’t want to spend time with anyone, I didn’t want to gain anyone’s trust. I was afraid of people! I was afraid of everyone! I was afraid I would go through the same hell I already went through. I didn’t want to feel “the bite of the black demon”. I was constantly trying to be alone, running away from everyday life and reality. I thought I didn’t belong to this world or this family.

I never realised that anyone could hurt a child. Every day, I posed questions over and over again. Is there someone who could hurt their own child? Is there anyone who could permanently scar, mentally and physically, their own child?

The days went by, somehow. I don’t even remember. They didn’t matter to me. Finally, sister and brother came back happy and full of wonderful experiences. I was especially struck by the fact that my father hugged and kissed them as a sign of welcome, and also said that he missed them a lot. They talked, I sat and listened to them. There was no happiness or sadness in my expression, only coldness, contempt, jealousy, envy. I wondered how a parent could make such a difference among their children. Every time I thought about it, tears would fill my eyes.

I don’t remember ever being happy again as a child. My sister and brother teased me about how they spent the whole holiday with our grandparents, and I didn’t spend even five days with them. To be honest, I didn’t feel like going anywhere, I didn’t wish to be crowded by people.

I started to lose my concentration. I had a hard time establishing normal communication with everyone. Although I loved them, I was afraid to show any emotion. I was afraid that if we got closer, I would tell them the whole truth. I chose to sacrifice myself; I carried that heavy burden by myself. I loved them and that was quite enough for me, even without getting too close to them.

I enjoyed solitude. I lost my trust in my family. I loved my mum, but I also blamed her for everything. I know her hands were tied. She could offer us nothing but her immense love.

After that terrible event, I was disgusted by my mother’s hands, mother’s kisses and caresses. Every time she’d pay attention to me, I refused the attention because I didn’t like it, but at the same time I missed her. My emotions were mixed and unclear.

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