Page 7 of Saint

And thanks to a lovely older woman who happened to be our new neighbor, she just so happened to have some old furniture in her barn.

Her husband helped me bring in a couch and two twin bed frames.

Additionally, her husband had seen me trying to chop wood, and he had come out and taken care of it for me.

We had enough logs to keep the little house warm for a few nights.

I would be heading into town tomorrow to get mattresses and clean the rest of the house from top to bottom.

But for now, a pile of blankets and two pillows worked just fine as my daughter’s head was lying in the crook of my arm in front of the fireplace.

Her little snores filled the room, a little drool trailing down my arm.

With my daughter sleeping peacefully at my side, I allowed myself to follow her into dreamland.

Why. Why in the world did my mother leave? And why in the world did she leave me here with him?

“Bitch, clean this shit up. Why the fuck do you make me do things like this? Why?” My father asked, belligerently.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

Instead, I slowly dropped to my knees and started cleaning up.

Wishing I had the power to use that knife and run it along his throat.

Ridding the world of such nastiness.

Sadly, when I went to sleep tonight, I knew I wouldn’t wake up in a better place.

No, I would still be living in this hell.

There needed to be a law or something that if you ever took your hands to a woman or a child, you deserved to be killed.

And the person who rid the world of such nastiness should never face the consequences.

I shook my head and kept cleaning up, but apparently, I had spaced out because, in the next instance, I felt a loafer-covered foot connecting to my cheek.

“Monnie, you were dreaming again. It’s okay. It’s okay,” I came out of that memory upon hearing my daughter trying to soothe me.

My six-year-old daughter.

And that was when I broke.

I turned my head on my pillow and cried.

Little hands moved over my face, moving the strands of hair.

My little girl shouldn’t be having to comfort and soothe me.

And that was when I made a vow to myself.

That I would be whatever she needed me to be. And that she would always come first.

‘Little by little, day by day. What is meant for you will find its way.’

– Saint’s Secret Thoughts.

Chapter 2