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You've Got to be Tough (1/1)
By Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
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Boston, Massachusetts - 2236

    "Damn it, Nikita!" Daniel Lochley yelled, throwing the empty beer bottle
at the cowering form of his wife. It smashed to the ground a few inches away
from her, "All I want when I get home is for dinner to be on the table, and
instead I find you took Elizabeth out with those evil friends of yours! I
told you they're no good for you, I told you to stay away from them! But did
you listen to me?" he asked as he raged towards her, cornering her against
the stove.
"Please, Daniel... you're drunk..."she protested weakly, her dark eyes filled
with fear.
"Well, DID you?" he asked, grabbing her arm, "DID YOU?"
"Daniel..." Nikita pleaded, drawing away from the inevitable slap. Sure
enough, he raised his hand back to strike her, when suddenly, a little form
dashed between them.
"Don't you DARE hit Mommy! I sick of you hitting her, I'm sick of you making
her cry! Go away!" the little girl screamed at her father, her voice full
blast. Her brown eyes blazed under the long brown bangs that had fallen over
her face, and she set her jaw with determination.
"See, Nikita?" Daniel asked, tightening his grip on her arm to the point
where it was bruising, "See what your evil friends have taught our little
girl? She doesn't even respect her father any more!"
"Stop it!" Elizabeth yelled, near tears as she tried to pull her mother out
of her father's grasp.
"Oh, you wait right there, Elizabeth, I'll get my belt and see what I can
teach you about respect! The both of you!" the enraged man told them
threateningly.  He moved away, towards the stairs.

 As soon as he was out of sight, Nikita moved with surprising speed and
scooped up her daughter, heading for the basement. Not bothering to turn on
the lights, she clattered down the uncarpeted steps and onto the concrete
floor. Setting Elizabeth down, she ran over to a metal cabinet, running her
hand along the top, searching.
"Damn," she muttered quietly. She heard the harsh clomp of her husband's
boots as they came down the second story flight of steps. Fear clutched her
heart, but years of experience willed her forward, "Liz, come over here."
The child obeyed, eyes wide with fear, "Feel around for a set of keys up
there, baby." Nikita instructed as she lifted the little girl up. The
footsteps moved to the kitchen area.
"Nikita! Elizabeth!" the man's voice called out. Nikita's heartbeat pounded
in her ears as her daughter frantically searched the top of the cabinet for
the keys.
"Got them!" Elizabeth whispered hoarsely. Breathing hard, Nikita grabbed the
keys and rushed over to a closet. Opening it, she shoved her daughter inside
and crawled in herself. She thanked the heaven's that she'd had the
foresight to switch the lock so it could be locked from both the outside and
in, as she held her breath. The footsteps were moving around, and her
husband was yelling for them, but he wouldn't find them... she hoped.
Elizabeth crawled into her lap, curling up, frightened and sad. Nikita held
her, smoothing her hair.

    It was dark where her mother had them hidden. Elizabeth Marie Lochley
was terrified of the dark. In the dark, her dad would find the evil beer and
turn into a bad, bad person. He'd hit Mommy and scare them both, and tonight
Elizabeth had had enough. But look where it had gotten her... locked in a
smelly closet with her mom while the terrifying footsteps of her dad echoed
upstairs. 

"Liz?" her mother spoke, sounded tired. In the darkness, the little girl
could barely see the outline of her mother's face, and that only by the line
trickle of light that peeked through the crack in the door.
"Yes, Mommy?" she asked in a small, frightened voice.
"Promise me something, angel?"
"Anything, Mommy," Elizabeth replied earnestly.
"Promise me you won't be like me," the brown eyes of her mother glittered
like dark stars, illuminating the dingy closet, "All my life I've been
afraid of men... I've let them walk all over me. Let me tell you something,
Liz," her mother said. The bright light of conviction erased the lines of
worry and hate that were etched on her mother's face, taking away years,
taking away pain... she was almost beautiful... dishwater blonde hair turned
golden yellow by the dimness, framing glistening eyes. Almost beautiful...
almost. "It's a dog eat dog world out there, Liz. Either you step on people,
or they'll step on you. Promise me, if anyone ever smacks you around, you
make sure you smack them back harder. In fact, you hit them before they hit
you. Never trust men, Liz. They're animals, they'll beat you if you let
them! Make sure you're always the one in control... if you EVER let go of
that... you'll be like me," her mother held her arms, trying to be firm.
"But Mommy..." Elizabeth protested.
"PROMISE ME," the grip on her arms became harder, and Liz winced, "PROMISE."
"I promise Mom," she said. She meant it, she saw the truth in her mother's
eyes. 
"Good," the fight drained out of her mother, leaving a wilted flower. The
older woman fell asleep, and Elizabeth kept a silent vigil.

    The next night, Elizabeth's father made good his threat and beat her.
But even as the hard metal end came crashing down on her already bruised and
bloodied back, Elizabeth Lochley did not cry out, did not shed a tear. In
fact, she was silent. She had to be tough. She had to.