Not that I was actually living on it, but I’m now 2 days into a little program I found on the web called The Couch-to-5K Running Plan and I’m still convinced of 2 things:

1. I hate running.
2. I hate quitting more.

So, I’ll continue. Only 8 weeks and a couple days until I’m ready for the 5K!

Did you miss Part I, Part II, or Part III?

The pain shot from my back to every part of my body. It was intense, white-hot, and it brought me up in the bed ready to fight.

“What do you want?”

“The garbage! You forgot to take out the garbage. You always forget things! What’s wrong with you, anyway? Now get up and take out the trash!”

“But, dad, it’s raining. Can’t I take it out in the morning?”

The swift slap was followed by even more rage. “Don’t you ever talk back to me! Now go do what I said!!”

I cried as I took out the trash, and the tears mixed with the rain and soothed my throbbing cheek. Drops from heaven ran down my back and cooled the new stripe that had been added to my reminders of other nights. I wanted to stay outside. I wanted to walk down the driveway and never come back. But, I couldn’t. My mom needed me. She needed me to protect her, to fix our family.

As I crawled back into my bed, I was already dreading the next night. It would be the same as tonight, and last night, and the multitude of nights before those. Last night it was the dishes, tonight the trash. I could never please him, no matter how hard I tried. He always found something that I had done wrong, or hadn’t done at all. As I slipped into sleep, I prayed that God would make me a good kid.

Tomorrow: Lost time – Part V

Did you miss Part I or Part II?

As soon as dinner was over, Dad would go out with his friends. I wished he would take me with him, but at least my dad had friends to play with. Mom would clean up, got to her room, and leave me to entertain myself until I went to bed. My father always seemed to come home just as I was lying down. I always wished that he wasn’t home, or that I was already asleep. I hated it when he came home.

The slam of the car door followed by the house door, then his footsteps in the hall, moving closer and growing louder, echoing the beating of my heart. He stopped outside my door.

“Hey, boy!”

His voice was loud, gruff, and it scared me. I pretended I was asleep.

“I’m talking to you!”

Now? Why not at the table when I actually wanted to talk?

“I know you’re awake,” he said, pushing the door open. “Now sit up when I’m talking to you!”
I could smell the beer even though he was still in the hall. He was drunk and mad, and I almost sat up. But if I could just convince him I was asleep, maybe he’d got to bed.

I lay as still as I could, my back to my dad, and I heard him step into the room. The sound of the belt whipping through the loops on his pants almost called my bluff, but I knew the beating would be worse if he knew I was lying about being asleep, and so I didn’t move.

Tomorrow: Lost time – Part IV