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Pretty

Tiffany could hear her father at her bedroom door. His drunken rampage had lasted over an hour but she had locked the door much earlier, when he actually cracked the seal on a black-labeled bottle she knew to say "Jack Daniels." Since then she had been hiding in her bedroom, cuddled into a ball, and stuffed under he bed tightly hugging the stuffed Pooh Bear that her mother had given her the last time she had visited, a little more than a year ago on her fifth birthday. That was all she could think about, but her happy memory kept being invaded by the poundings of her angry father just a few feet away.

Over the next few minutes Daddy's poundings got louder and louder. Tiffany cringed and pushed herself deeper into the narrow space under her bed. She could tell Daddy was getting madder. He started calling her Bitch. Daddy only said that when he was really mad. Tiffany didn't know what Bitch meant, but she knew it was bad. It was bad 'cause it made Mommy go away. She wished she could go away too.

Quiet.

Daddy had stopped. Tiffany hoped Daddy had passed out again. Last time she found him face down in the living room. He was covered in throw up and she thought he had peed himself.

Minutes ticked by like hours. The sun had gone down long ago and Tiffany could see no clocks from her dusty, cramped hiding place. She didn't know bed time had come and gone, but she did not feel tired until Daddy had stopped pounding on the door.

The little girl waited a few more heartbeats, then slowly crawled from her tight hiding place. She was sore and tired and dusty from hiding under the bed for hours. Her long brown hair was coated with dust, and her Sailor Moon pjs were torn at the sleeve where she got caught on a spring or nail or some other sharp thing under the bed. Pooh Bear was in good shape from the pounding he took from Daddy, and the burst seam on his leg could be fixed easily enough.

She quietly crawled into bed and dug herself deep into the covers. It had been warm under the bed, but when she came out from hiding Tiffany realized how cold the room was. Daddy had forgotten to turn the heat on and her small bedroom had turned cold. Even the blankets were cold, but they warmed up after a few minutes.

The softness and warmth of the bed made Tiffany feel so secure, and safe and tired. She was very tired, but she dared not fall asleep. What if Daddy woke up? What if he got through the door to her and Pooh Bear? Then what? Would it be like last time? Would he whip her with his belt again and then throw her around like Pooh? She remembered the welts on her back and then she was wide awake.

The house was quiet. Samson barked in the backyard and cars went by on the street below, but nothing else made a noise. Maybe it was over for the night. Maybe, hopefully… Tiffany yawned and began to doze. Daddy would be fine in the morning. He'll make breakfast and watch cartoons with her and be funny again. Maybe… Tiffany dozed and then fell headlong into sleep.

It was later when Tiffany woke to a thud. Daddy was awake, but he wasn't yelling. Maybe he had forgotten about her. Tiffany's blue-green eyes went wide and glassy as they watched the door in the dim light of the night light. More thuds. Daddy was making his way down the hallway, towards his room. A few seconds later she heard him flop down hard on the bed.

Good, if he's in bed, he wouldn't be yelling or banging or hitting or calling her "Bitch." Tiffany hated that word. Sleep came again and she drifted off softly with Pooh Bear to the land of hunni pots.

This time when she woke up, the crashing and thudding was at her door. It was loud and hard. Through the blear of just waking up, she could see the door shake in the green glow of the night light. Tears filled her eyes. Daddy was awake and Tiffany knew he was going to hurt her. He wasn't Daddy anymore. He was someone else. She had to get away. But to do that she had to get past Daddy. The window was on the second floor, and Tiffany knew her malnourished bones couldn't handle the fall. She would break something and then she would never be able to get away from Daddy. She had to go out the door.

Tiffany held tight to Pooh Bear, jumped from the bed and headed for the door. In the night light's glow, the brass door knob looked green and slimy. Daddy was still pounding on the door, and it shook and groaned with each blow and kick. Every time the door shook, she jumped a little and another tear forced its way out. Only five steps to the door but it was a lot farther for her.

Finally she reached the huge wooden door. The brass knob now not only looked slimy but cold. She slowly turned the key and when the lock clicked, was almost knocked down by the door swinging inward and her father stumbling past her. She didn't see him trip and land on the bed. She just ran. She ran as fast as her tired six-year-old legs would carry her. It wasn't fast enough. She didn't see Daddy get up and come after her and then make one final lunge at her.

Almost to the stairs, a few feet from the stairs, two more steps, but that was as close as she got. Daddy had caught a handful of Tiffany's dusty brown hair and yanked back. Tiffany saw her world go sideways and then saw an electric blue flash as her head slammed into the hardwood floor. Pooh Bear flew through the air and down the stairs. Pooh Bear made it. A few more feet and Tiffany would have too, just two more steps…

Tiffany felt dizzy and light and almost didn't notice Daddy dragging her down the hall by her hair. She tried to say something but couldn't. Her mouth wouldn't work. Everything felt fuzzy and everything she saw was soft around the edges. She cried. She cried for Pooh Bear who had made it out and now she wanted him back. She wanted Mommy who Daddy had chased off by calling her "Bitch." She wanted Samson who would have protected her with his big furry golden body if he wasn't chained in the back yard. Then it got dark…

Daddy was dragging her to the bathroom, but Tiffany didn't know it. She didn't know anything by the time they reached the bathroom. Her cracked skull had let her slip into the cold of unconsciousness. Daddy didn't notice though. They reached the bathroom and he slammed the little girl into the side of the bathtub the way some people throw a bowling ball down the alley.

Her head split like a ripe melon, spilling Tiffany's brains and secrets on the dirty tile floor. Daddy saw it happen. He saw her eyes open, roll back and her body twitch and he saw her shit herself in the spasms of death. He saw her brains spill out like a glob of pink pasta and slide onto the floor. He stared in disbelief. He tried halfheartedly to scoop his daughter's brains back into the ruined mass of her head.

He was now maddeningly sober. He had broken his little girl. He had killed the little girl who loved his pancakes and stupid jokes and watched cartoons with him on TV after school and on Saturday mornings. He killed the light in her eyes. He killed her…

Daddy flipped off the switch and walked down the hall. He found Pooh Bear at the bottom of the stairs. He hugged it tight. He saw the amateur stitching where he had sewn up Pooh in places and he saw the split seam on the leg. He held the stuffed bear tight to his chest and went to his room. Still holding the bear, he found the loaded Baretta 9mm under the mattress, chambered a round and stuck the barrel to the roof of his mouth. Giving the yellow bear one last squeeze, he splattered himself on the ceiling and walls.

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