Jim Beard
“No, Grandma, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.' 'I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t ever get out of bed again, I promise. Please don’t hurt me.” I screamed louder. I was shaking badly. I couldn’t get away. It had taken a few seconds before I realized she had stopped whipping me. I saw her walk toward the front of the house where someone was knocking on the front door. I followed at a safe distance, trying to see what was going on. “Good evening Mrs. Christian.” It was the police chief, Mr. Holland. “May I come in,” he asked. …she opened the screen door still holding the buggy whip in her hand. Nine years later: “There’s no room for you at Grandma’s…we have been talking about what to do with you.” I don’t know if anger or disappointment, unleashed a powerful energy within me that exploded. I decided at that moment that no one would find me in the way or a nuisance any longer. “Mom, stop! I can decide my own damned destiny; I’m gonna’ join the Army Air Force.” 'My mother didn't love me or want me...' 3
