Emily’s Story. Adult. She has a violent mixed up childhood. (standard:adventure, 5581 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jul 06 2020	Views/Reads: 1392/976	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Coming from an abusive family where her mother kills her father, Emily is mixed up about life and love. Why, she ponders, is everything that feels good illegal? She becomes involved with murder and drugs.

"Women are the root of all evil, guilty since eating of the fruit of the
forbidden tree," Samuel Simmons exhorted his wife and daughter. "Woman. 
Bring me the Tongue of Denial. You have sinned in denying your man his 
meal and must be cleansed." 

Samuel, a coal miner, had gotten home unexpectedly early on payday --
hours before wife, Shirley, and daughter Emily expected him. In his 
drunken state, he found his supper wasn't ready. Conversely, if it had 
been prepared too early he'd have been just as angry. 

Shirley normally waited until ten o'clock on payday night before setting
the table. It was no matter, she realized, since Samuel would still 
have found an excuse to beat her. If not for one reason, then another. 
The beatings occurred almost every payday. 

His wife dutifully hurried into the living room where several whips hung
on a wall behind their black-and-white television. The Tongue of Denial 
was housed on a nail between the heavier, "Love of the Lord," and 
lighter but just as painful paddle, "Highway to Heaven." The Highway to 
Heaven was Samuel's favorite for correcting daughter Emily. It was 
padded and the blows didn't show at school. Samuel lived by the adage 
that man was supreme over woman, as set by his own interpretation of 
the Bible. 

She brought the whip to her man, automatically stripping to her
underwear to crouch in front of him in abject submission. "Please, 
Samuel. Not my face or arms." 

That time, ten-year-old Emily was to be spared, although required to
watch her mother's humiliation and pain. 

He gave her only four weak symbolic blows on back and buttocks, then
threw the weapon to the ground. "Now, fix my meal, woman." 

Turning away, Samuel staggered into the living room to plop into a
favorite armchair, pouring a drink from a whiskey bottle Shirley had 
placed on a nearby table. It was one of her duties in satisfying her 
man. On that occasion, Samuel never did eat supper, passing out before 
it was set on the table. 

Hours later, the two females helped him to bed. They were gentle when
undressing Samuel, knowing he might wake in another drunken rage. 

In the 1950's, there was little in the way of social services, families
being left alone to suffer. What went on behind closed doors was nobody 
else's business. The same could be said about all those small 
Appalachian communities. Although Emily would often show up at school 
sporting obvious bruises, they were ignored by school officials. One of 
the results of such treatment was that her schoolwork excelled. There 
was no way she wanted to bring home a bad report card. 

One day in the year 1953, their lives were to change. 

*** 

"Now don't get pissed, Samuel," Timothy Evers mumbled to him as they
shoved a full railcar into line to be towed to the surface via donkey 
engine. "but have you heard the rumor about your wife and Jasper?" 

"Isn't none'a your business, but I have. This is the third time, so it
must be true." 

"They were holding hands at the soda fountain, talking and laughing." 

"I've warned her about that den of iniquity." 

"Probably nothin', Samuel.  Jasper works there now." 

"The Lord will get the truth. You can depend on that." 

"Jasper don't believe in Jesus, Samuel. He's a Jew and they got their
own gods and stuff like that." 

"He might not, but she sure as hell will." 



Click here to read the rest of this story (693 more lines)