(read part one first)

Finally, when I was 9� New Year�s weekend of �80, (my B-day is in September� you do the math) my father discovered that two silver dollars were missing. (more than a decade later he figured out that they were probably stolen by my aunt�s step son) I woke up innocently enough on the weekend morning� probably Friday, but I don�t remember. I went into the parent�s bedroom as was the usual thing on a weekend� but instead of the hugs and giggles that usually happened, Mom immediately asked me �What did you do with your father�s two silver dollars.�

From previous experience, I �knew� that she had already asked Dan and he�d said he didn�t take them. I didn�t know what silver dollars were. I didn�t know how big or small they were. I didn�t know what they looked like.

Man, the memories are flowing now. The time when I �stole� money from Dad� he�d leave his change on the stairs when he took his pants off downstairs. Every once in a while, I�d take a quarter or two. They were shiny and they were just sitting there. It was my house too, wasn�t it? (no, hell no, not with him living there� it was HIS house, not mine. I had no right to be there� but I get into that later) I didn�t know any better. I was little kid for crying out loud. Less than 7. Anyway, he finally either caught me or asked me about it or something� he found out that I�d been taking them and then humiliated me, yelling at me, saying I was a thief and then he pretended to call the police to have me picked up because I�d stolen his money. He picked up the phone and everything� I was terrified. I didn�t know� I really didn�t know. I didn�t understand that taking a couple quarters from a pile on the stairs was stealing. I didn�t know.

*shakes*

Anyway� there was another time, Aunt Cheryll married Uncle Ken and we had something like the second layer of the cake at our house� I don�t remember the details. I remember having taken a knife to scrape a little frosting off the cake and ate it. Mom and Dad questioned us about it, asking who had taken their finger and wiped the frosting off the cake. Dad said we wouldn�t get punished if we told the truth. I piped up (stupid me) and said I hadn�t used a finger, but I used a knife and took some of the frosting. They didn�t believe me or something. At least, Dad didn�t. He told me I was lying and that I was being sassy. Then, as punishment, he made Dan and I eat that entire cake. It wasn�t a small Duncan Hines cake either� it was big enough that it would easily serve 25 people or more. But, he kept hacking off piece of that cake, forcing us to eat it, saying that if we would just confess, it could stop. I threw up probably four times, but right back to eating the cake� Many times I said I�d done it, I�d eaten the frosting, I�d taken a knife and scraped off some of the frosting and eaten it. But, that wasn�t good enough. I was being sassy and talking back� being disrespectful. I knew I�d told the truth, but he didn�t believe me, and what�s more, he called me a liar. And what�s more, I ate half that cake. I was crying and in pain and throwing up and still I had to eat that cake.

And I wonder why I�m fat.

Anyway, I didn�t know what the hell silver dollars were or what they looked like or anything, but, by the way Mom had phrased the question, I knew that Dan had already been asked and had said he either didn�t know what they were or hadn�t taken them� and because he�d been asked first, he�d be believed. I also knew that if I told the truth, Dad wouldn�t believe me. So, I looked at Mom for a long minute, then said/asked �They�re in my drawer?�

I didn�t know. I had absolutely no fucking idea. But, if I�d said I didn�t know, I wouldn�t be believed and I would be punished.

For about an hour or two we searched my room. We (read me, with Mom standing over me (Mom was standing over me because Dad was so pissed off that Mom didn�t trust him to be around me) Mom was being gentle but insistent. She was trying to help me find these silver dollars) Anyway, for about an hour or two we searched. Every time the place I suggested was searched and found empty of silver dollars, I would suggest another place. We completely scoured my room, the bathroom, the hallway� every place I could imagine. With no results� those silver dollars couldn�t be found anywhere.

Finally, Dad was about as pissed off as he could get and he was yelling at me about what I did with his silver dollars. I think he mentioned buying candy or something, but I don�t remember if he did that. Regardless, I finally �admitted� to having bought candy with the dollars. I said that I�d gone to the store and bought candy and he said something to the effect that it�s almost impossible to buy exactly two dollars worth of candy.

Anyway, he beat me. He sent me to his room (Mom and Dad�s bedroom), got a switch from the apple tree out back and commenced to beating me. Rather, whipping me. He made me raise my flimsy nightgown� faded, pale blue� lighter weight than t-shirt material� and he whipped my butt� and my back and my legs. He was so enraged that his face was red and swollen and shaking and spittle was flying from his mouth. He told me I was a liar and a thief and had no place in his home. When he�d finished beating me, his voice went ice cold and his eyes narrowed and he glared at me and he told me to get out of HIS house.

So, I, crying, scared and in pain, left his house. I walked out the front door and down the walkway to the street. In that flimsy, faded blue night gown and my ultra thin ankle socks. I was a child for crying out loud. I held my arms close to my body, hands clasped under my chin. I walked out of the drive way and up the road. I didn�t know where to go. It was raining� lightly. I turned to another street, going toward the house of a girl I knew. She lived about half a mile away.

As I was walking to her house an older man in a station wagon pulled up along side me, rolled down the passenger window and asked if I was okay� he asked if I needed a ride. I shook my head, sniffling, crying, soaking wet� so, so, so cold.

I finally got to this girl�s house. I didn�t want to go there. I knew if I went there, the girl�s mom would call my mom and then Dad would know where I was and he wouldn�t like that. But, I knocked anyway and the girl�s mom let me in and called my mom.

Mom came to get me. She was mad� she was livid even. I thought she was mad at me� as an adult, I understand that she was pissed the fuck off with Dad and that she was terrified for her baby� back then, all I knew was that Mom was mad and that it was my fault.