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“I don’t wanna eat it!” I shriek as I pound my feet against the floor.

Dinner. 6:35 p.m. 5th temper tantrum of the day. 20h this week. God knows how many this month and year.

How old was I here…hmmm. Six probably though I was always a little on the small and scrawny side (unlike my dad who was chunky as a kid) so I could’ve be seven as well.

“Linnet Anne Way get back in your chair and eat your dinner!” My grandmother screams back.

“No!”

“Gerard do something! She’s your daughter!” Gramma glares at my dad who is quietly sitting there eating his dinner and not paying any attention to my outburst. He finishes chewing and then sets his fork down and stands up. He goes around the table to where I am and pulls me up rather roughly.

I began to scream even louder as he dragged me over to my seat and set me down in my chair. Dad lowered himself down till he was eye level with me and hissed in what he thought was an intimidating voice, “If you don’t eat your fucking dinner I’ll beat the living crap out of your ass so hard you won’t be able to feel it anymore.”

I stop screaming and stare at him. Apparently I find the look on his face so hilarious that I began to giggle.

“Daddy you’re funny.” I reach out and pinch his cheeks. He slaps my hands away.

“Lindy…” His voice is warning me. I giggle again. It’s funny when my dad tries to act angry.

He sighs and sits back down and resumes eating. Gramma is fuming, but all she does is glare at Dad and then goes back to eating her dinner. Grampa has not said a word at all throughout this whole episode. He only speaks once.

“Mikey’s coming home next week.” I drop my fork and let out a loud squeal.

“Yay!” I scream jumping down from my chair and racing around the house. Gramma groans and then sighs as I climb back into my chair. She mutters something about bringing me to see a doctor and that Dad has to come with us.

“Can Mikey come too?” I ask Dad later that night. He’s in his room drawing and as the usual I’m there on the floor with the new box of 50 Crayola crayons that I begged Gramma to buy me at the grocery store today. I had already drawn four or five drawings of various grotesque things. Namely bloody warfare and things I’ve seen from the horror movies Gramma rents from the video store.
“Come where, muffin?” Dad asks.

“To the doctor.” I stick my tongue out as I draw. “Why do I have to go the doctor, Daddy? I’m not sick.”

Dad sighs and takes a swig of vodka before patting his lap. I jump up taking my drawings with me and climb onto his lap.

My dad is younger than the parents of my classmates. I noticed that the first day of school.

Gramma had made Dad bring me to school although he was supposed to be at college.

I remember tightly holding his hand as he walked me to my classroom. My teacher was standing out front of the classroom with a clipboard and sticker nametags. She seemed surprised to see my dad, but greeted him warmly.

‘Gerard Way! What a surprise!’ She exclaimed smiling at me. ‘This must be Linnet.’

‘Lindy.’ I told her.

‘How cute.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Mrs. Applebaum and I’m your teacher.’ I stared at her outstretched hand and licked it. She let out a small shriek and pulled it away. The students inside began to giggle and the parents began to whisper amongst one another. Dad groans and makes a face that is cross between laughing like a hyena and grimacing.

‘Sorry, about that Mrs. A. Mikey told her that whenever someone sticks out their hand toward you that you should go and lick it.’ Dad apologized glaring at me.

‘Not a problem Mr. Way.’ She said quickly and took a wipe pack out of her pocket and opened it and wiped her hands. She then took a sticker off and stuck it onto the front of my jumper. ‘Can you read Lindy?’

I shake my head up and down a few times. ‘Daddy taught me how to read when I was almost three.’ I proudly say.

Mrs. Applebaum smiled. ‘Excellent. How about you go in and find your seat while I talk to your daddy for a bit? It should be in the back row second to the right.’

‘Okie-dokie.’ I skiped off to find my designated spot.

I found my desk and hopped up into my seat. My feet dangled from it because I’m so small.

‘Is that your brother talking to the teacher?’ A boy sucking his thumb asked me. I shook my head.

‘No, that’s my daddy.’ I said.

‘Oh. He’s really young ya know.’ The boy informed me. Another boy joined us. He was a lot bigger than the both of us and had pale hair and freckles.

‘That’s your daddy?’ He asked. ‘Where’s your mommy?’

‘My mommy died when I was born.’ I sadly told him. He let out a loud laugh.

‘That means you killed your mommy!’

‘No. My mommy was sick before I was born. That’s why I’m so small.’ I felt a little bad as I said this. No one had ever said something like that to me before.

‘My uncle went to school with your daddy and he said that your daddy and mommy did things that only mommies and daddies that are married should do. He said that they had a baby and that your mommy died after it was born.’ He poked my chest. ‘That baby was you!’

The other boy watched us as he kept sucking his thumb.

‘So what?’ I said scowling.

‘That means you’re going to hell and your daddy is going to hell too. My uncle said that your mom’s already there cuz she’s a whore.’

I launched myself from my chair and began to pound and swear at the kid. It took my dad, Mrs. Applebaum, and three of the other dads to pull me off of him.

The other kids stayed away from me after that. Except for Evan, the boy who sucked his thumb. He became my best and only friend through grade school and a few other ‘freaks’ like us were added as the years went on.

And that day started my temper tantrums as well. Everyone learned to stay away from me during these episodes until I calmed down. The school psychologist told Gramma not to bring me to a doctor because it was just a ‘kid thing’ and that I would soon grow out of it. Boy was she wrong.

Dad had a thoughtful look on his face. “Daddy!” I shriek as I smack his cheek.

“What?” He looks annoyed.

“Why do I have to go to the doctor?” I ask.

He sighs and rests his chin in my hair. “Because your grandmother thinks that there’s something wrong with you and that she should’ve ignored the school psychologist and had taken you to the doctor like Mrs. Applebaum suggested.”

“Oh…” I was silent. “I miss Mrs. Applebaum.” I sadly add. My kindergarten teacher died last April. I had spent every moment I could being miserable in my bedroom.

“I do too muffin.” He sighs again and reaches for his vodka but I smack his hand and put my drawings in front of him. He makes a face. “Were you watching the Nightmare on Elm Street movies again?”

I scowl. “I like it when Johnny Depp dies in the first one though.”

Dad laughs and then sets me down. “Go run up and get ready for bed, muffin.” He turns back to his drawings.

I run over to the stairs since his bedroom is in the basement. “Daddy?”

“What pumpkin?”

“Is Mikey still coming with us?”

I hear him sigh. “If I say yes will you get to bed?”

“No.”

He gets up and chases me up the stairs as I squeal loudly. Gramma starts to yell at him for getting me all riled up before bed.