mInD oF mEnAcE

Release the Beast


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The first time I realized that I was alone in this world was during infancy, which by the way also marks my first memorable act of spiteful behavior.  Trapped (enslaved) in my crib by a mother who was indifferent to my screams, I did it.  I did what no other child in that tiny insignificant apartment would dream of…but I did it anyway.  Without thought or contemplation I was on my way to a lifetime of self destructive behavior.  Or at least that’s what it was termed later in my life.  But I didn’t care; it was my turn to cause pain.


On that lonely night, trapped in the dimly lit room I had finally had enough, so I took a shit in my already soiled diaper, removed it and proceeded to blissfully play with the warm wet chaos it encased.  I applied the mess on the walls alongside my prison, and then on my legs, my arms, my face – everywhere, anywhere I could reach was destroyed by the only power I had in my infantile world.  Excitement overcame me – I began to laugh uncontrollably.  My very first, successful act of total and complete spite.  I was ecstatic, although at that moment I was sure there would be many more accomplishments such as these, this one was special, it was my first. 


The sound of a laughing child and happiness in the household must have thrown the beast off guard, she was approaching.  I could not hear the footsteps or smell the heat of her anger, but I could feel her getting closer.  I began this feat with a feeling of triumph, then fear, and then a who the fuck cares kind of attitude.  My indifference quickly turned back into fear as I heard the turn of the door knob, the creak of the hinges and the weight of heavy footsteps as the beast staggered through the narrow doorway.  Her expression was stark – full of anger.  It didn’t take long for the monster within her to take control of the situation.


“What did you do, what did you do”  followed by  “You disgusting piece of shit what the fuck did you do” was sweet music dancing gracefully in my head.  I was, as she had so delicately expressed –  a literal piece of shit.


SCORE for me!  I am winning.  I was winning.


“Billy, get your ass in here now”   What did she say?


“Get your sister in the tub right now”    What’s going on?  What is happening?  Why is she calling my brother?


“Throw her in the fucking tub, get her out of here she is a dirty piece of shit”


My brother’s protests against touching his shit stained sister warranted him a firm slap across his face.  With tears welling up in his deep blue eyes, my brother slowly picked me up and carefully transported me into the nearby bathroom.  As I gazed into these compelling eyes, I could see pain and bewilderment as he tried to fight away the tears.  I could also feel the hatred my brother had for me at that moment.  He was wondering how I could do this to him – To Him!


“Put the water on, HOT – HOTTER”  the beast shouted, louder, more forceful.

“Clean her so I can beat her good.”  I still don’t understand that expression.


“Get that shit off of her, I can’t even look at her, FASTER, HOTTER, HOTTER!”


As the warm soggy mess of my spite was rapidly oozing down the drain, I escaped.  I was suddenly in a different place, a good place, a place where mommies loved their babies.  I went so far away that after a while, I couldn’t even feel the water that kept my skin a sinister shade of crimson for days later.


I can’t say I actually recall exactly what happened next, but I’m certain the punishment came and I’m confident that it was severe.  A beating would be the next logical step in a home where a monster can become a mother simply by spreading her legs and where neighbors ignore cries in the night, simply because it is none of their business.


What I do remember is how I felt hours later as I lay in my previously shit soaked bed.  That night I felt shame, I felt remorse, I felt guilt.  Not for what I had done to my bed, my body or the beast, for all of that I was content, I felt this way for Billy, my brother.  Of course she would involve him – punish both of us for my offense.  Leave it to the beast to take all the joy away from me during my first act of spitefulness.





Written by Tiffany Sams

September 18, 2008 at 4:46 am

One Response

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  1. Amazing… it’s like seeing abuse from the very first start and the affect it has on children from a very young age. Thank you for your blog. My blog is a bunch of randomness while yours in comparison is pure gold. Keep up the great work on both the blog and yourself.


    October 12, 2008 at 12:11 pm

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