Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Knocked on My Door
Knocked on My Door
3 reviewsWhen 14-year-old Sicily knocks on their door, Donna has no choice but to let her in.
0Unrated
I haven’t been outside in so long.
I can see the long scrapes on the wall; where my fingernails scratched in the cement my own sort of calendar.
I hear my father scream at my mother. I can hear her desperate cries. I can hear her thudding against the wall in defeat.
My eyes well with tears.
My mother, my beautiful, tortured mother who has kept my existence for so long in this disgusting basement.
I know she tries. She tries so, so hard. But all I have is this damp cement floor and a tangle of blankets.
I hear my mother sob and yell, “Stop!”
I hear this every night.
My father, I have heard, was at one point a kind man. Considering my state of life, it seems doubtful this was ever possible, but my mother has told me.
He was once handsome, and still would be, except for the premature grays and crooked teeth, from all the alcohol and the cigars. The cigar smoke is the worst. It clogs my senses and makes me cough, until I am afraid my chest will burst out. My father smokes too much.
At night, he comes home, drunk and high. He doesn’t know who I am, his own daughter, because my mother is afraid that the same fate would come to me. To be beaten and never get out.
When she was carrying me, my father was to drunk to notice her bulging waist, and when I was almost due, she left for a few weeks to her sister’s house, so that she could have the baby. She stayed at her sister’s house until I could sleep through the night, then snuck me home and nursed me when my father was away.
I don’t know why she didn’t just run away or leave me at her sister’s. Too much pride, I guess. My mother is young, but with a firm belief in education. Every day, she goes out for a “walk”, but what he really does is comes downstairs and teaches me how to read and write. She sometimes buys new things, like books and clothes, but I have no use for them. I know she wants to get out. And I know we will one day. One day, when we are no longer in our bodies. When we are free, free to soar and be. Just souls. When we die.
---♥---
It is night. It is night, I know, because I am outside! I am outside for the first time in five weeks! It’s crisp and cool outside. Fall recently gave way to winter, but it doesn’t matter; I am outside!
My mother is trying to sneak me out. Trying to take me away. But she says she cannot come with me. Then people would know what my father does to her, and they would take him away and put her in a hospital. She really does love my father. Even though he beats her, she wants so badly for him to be the old him again. She is stubborn. But I love her.
She bought lots of new clothes for me and put them in a new suitcase, and gave me some money she had been saving in an envelope since the day I turned 1. She bought me a ticket for a train to her friend, Donna’s house. But I am afraid he’ll find me. I know it’s unreasonable, because, after all, he doesn’t know I exist. But my mother says that once I’m with Donna she’ll tell him about me. She has some crazy dream that that’ll bring them closer. I hope this isn’t a dream. I hope that once I escape, I can live like a normal girl my age. I hope.
---
Donna’s POV
She knocked on my door at 2:15, PM. At first I thought it was a burglar, but when she started ringing the doorbell an calling “Donna? Donna?” earnestly, I had no choice but to open.
I was shocked when I opened the door. Celeste, her young, hardheaded mother, had warned me about how much she looked like my husband, but I couldn’t believe it. What perplexed me further was how much she resembled my oldest son, Gerard.
I can see the long scrapes on the wall; where my fingernails scratched in the cement my own sort of calendar.
I hear my father scream at my mother. I can hear her desperate cries. I can hear her thudding against the wall in defeat.
My eyes well with tears.
My mother, my beautiful, tortured mother who has kept my existence for so long in this disgusting basement.
I know she tries. She tries so, so hard. But all I have is this damp cement floor and a tangle of blankets.
I hear my mother sob and yell, “Stop!”
I hear this every night.
My father, I have heard, was at one point a kind man. Considering my state of life, it seems doubtful this was ever possible, but my mother has told me.
He was once handsome, and still would be, except for the premature grays and crooked teeth, from all the alcohol and the cigars. The cigar smoke is the worst. It clogs my senses and makes me cough, until I am afraid my chest will burst out. My father smokes too much.
At night, he comes home, drunk and high. He doesn’t know who I am, his own daughter, because my mother is afraid that the same fate would come to me. To be beaten and never get out.
When she was carrying me, my father was to drunk to notice her bulging waist, and when I was almost due, she left for a few weeks to her sister’s house, so that she could have the baby. She stayed at her sister’s house until I could sleep through the night, then snuck me home and nursed me when my father was away.
I don’t know why she didn’t just run away or leave me at her sister’s. Too much pride, I guess. My mother is young, but with a firm belief in education. Every day, she goes out for a “walk”, but what he really does is comes downstairs and teaches me how to read and write. She sometimes buys new things, like books and clothes, but I have no use for them. I know she wants to get out. And I know we will one day. One day, when we are no longer in our bodies. When we are free, free to soar and be. Just souls. When we die.
---♥---
It is night. It is night, I know, because I am outside! I am outside for the first time in five weeks! It’s crisp and cool outside. Fall recently gave way to winter, but it doesn’t matter; I am outside!
My mother is trying to sneak me out. Trying to take me away. But she says she cannot come with me. Then people would know what my father does to her, and they would take him away and put her in a hospital. She really does love my father. Even though he beats her, she wants so badly for him to be the old him again. She is stubborn. But I love her.
She bought lots of new clothes for me and put them in a new suitcase, and gave me some money she had been saving in an envelope since the day I turned 1. She bought me a ticket for a train to her friend, Donna’s house. But I am afraid he’ll find me. I know it’s unreasonable, because, after all, he doesn’t know I exist. But my mother says that once I’m with Donna she’ll tell him about me. She has some crazy dream that that’ll bring them closer. I hope this isn’t a dream. I hope that once I escape, I can live like a normal girl my age. I hope.
---
Donna’s POV
She knocked on my door at 2:15, PM. At first I thought it was a burglar, but when she started ringing the doorbell an calling “Donna? Donna?” earnestly, I had no choice but to open.
I was shocked when I opened the door. Celeste, her young, hardheaded mother, had warned me about how much she looked like my husband, but I couldn’t believe it. What perplexed me further was how much she resembled my oldest son, Gerard.
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