Then with a sudden charge, he rushed toward me, lifted his hand high, and brought it down hard against my face.
I fell to the floor. From the power of the blow certainly, but also because my legs gave out with shock and surprise.
Cupping my face, I felt the throbbing along my cheek and tried to swallow the tears that had immediately sprung to my eyes.
“Go to your room and take off that slut dress. NOW!”
I wasn’t going to be able to stand. I was shaking too hard. My father had never laid a hand on me. He’d been distant. He’d been absent. He’d never been abusive.
“This was your fault,” he hollered. “You lied to me! You deceitful slut.”
Then he kicked me in the stomach. Not so hard, but again the shock of it had me gagging. He’d hit me. He was kicking me. The reality of what was happening was starting to penetrate my brain and I began to crawl away from him.
The second I put some distance between us, I forced myself to my feet. I could hear the dress rip, could hear the sobs from my father, now blubbering about how sorry he was.
“You’re my little girl. You need to stay my little girl,” he cried. “Ashleigh, my Ashleigh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, I ran upstairs to my room as fast as I could. Once there, I locked the door behind me. Sitting on my bed, I tried to think about what I needed to do.
Tell George.
No, I couldn’t let him know what my father had done. What if George tried to confront my father? What if my father fired him?
There was no good outcome if George knew. Which meant he wasn’t going to know.
Marc. I couldn’t process how I felt about what he’d done. He’d lied. He’d, once again, deliberately set me up to be hurt emotionally. Because of his actions, he’d set me up to be physically hurt, too. I wouldn’t have been home when Daddy showed up, if only Marc hadn’t stood me up.
I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to talk to him. While at the same time, I wanted to scratch his eyes out. I wanted scream at him about how much he’d failed me.
Carefully, I got up and went to my en suite bathroom. I took off the dress and the makeup. I put a cold washcloth on my cheek, laid on my bed and focused on each and every breath. Not letting a single one get away from me. Not falling into the trap I’d fallen into before when I’d let my emotions overcome my body.
One breath, then another. Until, eventually, I fell asleep.
That was how my prom night ended.
