Mum, please dont, I beg you! Sarah lay curled on the lounge floor, knees tucked to her chest, hands shielding her head as her mum lashed out with her dads old belt. I wont do it again! Please!
But Sarah knew better. Once Mums rage took over, her eyes would blaze with a wild look, her mouth twisted up, and it was as if she didnt recognise herself. There was nothing to do but endure it, never try to run, as that would only make her angrier, and always protect her face or shed get in even worse trouble if the teachers noticed something at school.
Her back stung and throbbed from the belts heavy old buckle the only thing her father had left behind, now faithful to Mums cause. Each whistle through the air promised new pain. Tears dripped onto the battered floorboards and smeared into the worn wood.
Just try it! Just try it again! Mum shouted between smacks.
Once she caught her own hand with the buckle and finally dropped the belt. Sarah whimpered faintly the punishment was over, now she simply had to wait until Mum stormed off to the kitchen, then she could slip quietly to her little bedroom, climb onto the hard mattress and stay silent until morning.
Sarah never understood what she was doing wrong. Mum always found some reason a poor English mark at school, badly cleaned kitchen tiles, buying the wrong loaf of bread (even when it was exactly what Mum had asked for, and then changed her mind while Sarah was gone). The reasons never mattered, it was just about the punishment.
If all Mum did was shout, Sarah quietly counted it as a good day. The names ugly, fat cow, thick as two short planks, useless lump shed heard them all, and somehow learned to live with them. Shed convinced herself they must be true. If she hadnt been born, Dad wouldnt have left, or Mum couldve remarried, worn nice clothes, gone somewhere else, lived a life she actually wanted without the burden of another mouth to feed.
Sarah did everything she could to keep her mums temper at bay. From six years old, all the cleaning and chores were hers, and even if she never did them well enough, at least Mum didnt have to worry about the house. Sarah sorted her own meals, didnt fuss, let Mum go out at night, bring men home. Sarah kept quiet, buried her head under blankets, pretending not to hear Mums sighs and laughter from down the hall.
When Sarah was old enough, she picked up part-time work, giving every penny to Mum, believing she owed every bit spent on her as a child.
Youll never give me back my youth or my life! Mum would scream, snatching the money. Youve ruined it all, all of it!
Sarah never knew what all meant. She was too scared to ask. Once she dared to question why her mum had even had her. The answer was simply:
Because youre my child.
Sarah pondered that for ages, finally deciding it must mean her mum loved her, because mothers are supposed to love their children, arent they? Thats what all the books and the other kids mums at school said. Sarah wondered, maybe her mum just didnt know how? She even tried one day to hug her mum, thinking perhaps she could teach her, but Mum shoved her away in disgust, hissing not to ever touch her again. And Sarah never tried.
Finishing school at sixteen, Sarah got into a local college. They offered her a spot in a student flat, but to her shock Mum went wild. I didnt go through all this for you to just up and leave! she shrieked, slapping Sarah across the face.
Oddly, Sarah almost felt happy maybe she did matter to Mum after all. Maybe it was love in some odd way.
As Sarahs job became better paid, Mum stopped hitting her. The yelling, guilt trips and complaints continued, but Sarah could cope with those. Then one day, Mum met a new husband.
When Sarah came home one evening, her things were piled outside on the landing. Her key no longer worked. Mums voice rang out from behind the door she had a new life now, there was no room in it for Sarah.
Sarah sank to the floor, hid her face and cried. Whether it was grief or relief, she couldnt say. Shed handed over her entire pay packet just yesterday now she had only bus fare in her pocket. No home, no friends, nowhere to go.
That night was spent on a hard railway platform bench, trembling each time a security guard walked by in case she was thrown out. She kept up the pretence of waiting for a train.
A kind workmate offered her a room, payment due after her next wage. Sarah was grateful. For the first time, she was alone, unsupervised, and utterly terrified.
Gradually, her nerves settled. She realised she enjoyed the quietthe absence of shouting, the absence of fear. Some nights, nightmares of her mum with that wretched belt woke her up with a start. She felt wrong buying herself a treat, thinking about someone besides Mum, or smiling just because. But the longer she went, the lighter she felt, the brighter life seemed. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to date; Mums voice echoed relentlessly:
Who else would ever want you, looking like that?
So Sarah turned down every offer, stared into the mirror and wept no one could possibly love her, she was sure.
She learned to live alone. Learned how to enjoy small pleasures. Made peace with her fear. And began to understand: her own mother was a monster. But even so, she often found herself wishing to see Mum one more time maybe to finally hear, well done, after building a good life, her own flat, a good job. Or maybe just to tell her everything shed bottled up over seven years apart.
Remarkably, one day Mum rang Sarah never learned how she got her number and in a strangely gentle voice, asked her to visit.
Hope fluttered in Sarahs chest as she shopped for gifts and treats for her mum, and travelled across town.
There, Sarah found her little half-brother, Daniel, perched at the kitchen table, pushing porridge around his bowl, while Mum bustled in loving circles, kissing and feeding him as though he were far younger than six. She looked so caring, so gentle, that something stabbed inside Sarah. The memories of her mothers furious, contorted face, belt in hand, when Sarah was Daniels age and broke a jug, clashed painfully with the scene before her.
She smiled for Daniels sake, happy that perhaps Mum had learned to love perhaps now there would be some for her too?
She stepped forward to hug her mum, arms wide. For a brief second, Mums smile lingered, all sweetness for Daniel. But the moment she saw Sarah, her expression soured, pulling back in revulsion.
What do you want? she snapped.
Sarah froze in mid-step, arms awkwardly stretched.
Please, just love me too, Mum, she begged silently, but said nothing.
Sit down, wash your hands, Mum ordered, then turned back to Daniel with another warm smile. Sarah realised that would never be her mum. Why summon her at all?
Mum soon answered, not bothering to ask how Sarah had been all these years.
Daniels starting at a new school in September, and Pete doesnt earn enough for the private one. Theres no way Im sending him to the local dump with all those troublemakers so, since hes got a sister, she should help. You live on your own and earn plenty. Dont glare at me, I checked with Karen. Well pay half, but you pay the rest its a lot.
Sarah could hardly believe her ears. Something inside her, something bitter and crippling, finally fractured. It was as though a heavy weight was pried loose.
In a strangled voice, Sarah asked:
Why do you assume Ill help?
Mum shot her a sneer.
Because I fed you, clothed you, sacrificed my life for you! You owe me. Youve had enough time to live for yourself.
Sarah rose from the table, trembling with pain, anger, and resentment. It felt as if her heart would burst out and flatten Mum then and there. But she didnt raise her voice, only shook her head and walked out, slamming the door harder than necessary.
Dont you dare walk away! Mums shout chased her down the stairs. Ungrateful! I always knew youd come to nothing!
Mums curses faded behind the door. Sarah wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks, but this time she smiled. She was truly free now. Now, she could finally learn what it meant to love. And she realised shed never need her mother for that.
