Having a friend in England helped heal a lot of the loneliness that I was battling after my mom left to go back to Florida. Working part time also eased some of the ache. Christmas rolled past in some sort of void, to be perfectly honest I have no memories at all of it. It would have been Faith’s very first Christmas, but I do not remember it. I spent a lot of time forgetting England over the last 8 years and this must be something I have repressed to some dark place.
One rainy day I came home from work to what appeared to be an empty house. It was dark downstairs and I didn’t hear anyone when I came through the door. As I set my stuff down on the chair I could hear Faith crying faintly. She was roughly 4 months old. She sounded very far away for some reason. My ears strained for more clues as I headed upstairs to her bedroom.
Pushing open her bedroom door, I stand in disbelief. The playpen that she sleeps in is filled to the top with every comforter, teddy bear, and pillow in the room. I hear her muffled screams from the bottom of the pile. I run to the pen and start pulling out piles of cotton and arms of teddy bears. I get to my daughter and pull her from the crib. She’s burning up, face flush, and giant tears are pouring from her eyes. She’s obviously been crying for awhile. I pull her too me, rocking and whispering, while my mind races over the scenario I just walked into.
When I confront him in his computer room I didn’t receive a response. So I reached over and pulled the plug on the machine. Dumping his character into oblivion. I didn’t care and I wasn’t backing down. I was angrier than a Grizzly Bear Momma, I just really could have used the weight and height on my side as well (and the teeth). He screamed at me for pulling the plug and then he screamed about the baby’s crying and in an instant he was in my face backing me against a wall.
I heard Hailey come running into the room and as quick as she did I heard her panic and then run out crying and to our horror we listened as she fell down the flight of stairs trying to run away from her enraged Father. His anger at me dissolved as he moved from where I was pinned to the wall and we both rushed to the stairs. Hailey sat half way down holding her head with one hand and her ankle with another as she cried.
Xanax or Running Shoes? 
Oh my! Reading that very brief passage and it’s turn of events was equivalent to getting a shot of adrenaline — very gripping and intense. I could feel everyone losing control of the situation.
Good grief. This is turning from bad to worse to the freaken pits, Jeanna. I’m off to read more just to quell (hopefully) the knot in the pit of my stomach. You are one to-the-bones story-teller…