I am not sure where my mother was, I think night school. She left us home with him.
I was in my room playing with my yellow cardboard stove and fridge. I was using pink chalk as “lipstick”, I ran across the hall climbed up on the sink and looked at how pretty I looked. I walked into the living room to show him how pretty I looked. He bit that bottom lip and started screaming “What’s on your face!” I was so scared, I replied “I don’t know” he asked several times, but I was so scared I didn’t know what to say but “I don’t know”. This was not what he wanted to hear. He grabbed me and took me to my room (I remember a white wooden dresser & night stand, with gold trim). He whipped me until I peed on myself. I had to change clothes in front of him with pee running down my leg. He kept screaming “What is on your face” and I stuck to my guns, “I don’t know”. This went on for 3 pairs of clean panties before he got really angry. As he dragged me across the hall to his room, where the punishment really begins, I see my brother sitting in his doorway with his finger over his mouth trying to shush me. He threw me on the bed went to the closet, on the left, pulled out the brown belt and this is when I gave. I wasn’t strong enough for that type of beating. I finally caved between my sobs and snot I cried out “its chalk daddy”. He instantly stopped, like he snapped out of this violent rage and said “Why didn’t you just say so” All I could reply was “I don’t know.” This justified you “making up to me” when you put me back in bed. You didn’t even wash the dried up pee off me. I was always made fun of for smelling and looking dirty. I can see why.