extract from Don't Hit Me!

extract from DON'T HIT ME!

(Don't Hit Me! is an unpublished book.)

Brief Synopsis:

‘Don’t Hit Me!’ is the story of Sascha Holding & her journey through domestic violence. It is told through poetic and fragmented journal-type entries. ‘Don’t Hit Me!’ is a fictional book based on factual events.

One

I speak for female victims of domestic violence. We build forts around ourselves by protecting the individuals who abuse us. I can run away, I can report an incident to the police. My own damn fear keeps me nailed in this box. I want to connect with other women. Can you hear me girls? I’m calling your name. Let’s bring out our hammers and set ourselves free. I can see broken boxes littering the world. Women dancing free, uninhibited…without fear. My name is Sascha Holding and this is my story.

Two

The cage shakes viciously. Seed and water spit. The bird is singing, was singing, is dead. Decapitated head. Fragments of claw. A broken body. Soul. The cage is placed on the wooden table. I am the bird.

Three

I want you to stop screaming at me okay? I want you to stop speaking to me as if I am some kind of wild animal. Just explain; explain what you are doing or saying. You don’t have to scream to communicate. You scare me. When you are out, my body relaxes and I can talk on the phone to friends and family without fear. Fear that you do not like the conversation I’m having. Fear that you will rip the phone cord out of the wall. Fear that you will reveal your madness and my own to the people whom I love. I drink coffee, I do my work, I read, I write, I be. Don’t scream in my face ever again. It’s not a scream; it’s a statement. A plan executed to humiliate me in front of the neighbours. Why is it so overacted? So loud? So predictable? I have to leave the house. I don’t look at anyone. Head down, tail between my legs, you have scored another victory.

Four

He belted me hard, so hard I fell against the bathroom tiles. My head throbbed. I wanted my Mum but she wasn’t there so I wanted him. To help me up, carry me to the bed, apply an icepack to my forehead and cuddle me into the quiet of the afternoon. He left. I tried to coax him back with gurgled cries. He never returned that night. I was left…again. Dismantled. I was angry. I still am.

back to Writings index


		Writings
		extract from DON'T HIT ME! (Don't Hit Me! is an unpublished book.) Brief Synopsis: ‘Don’t Hit Me!’ is the story of Sascha Holding & her journey through domestic violence. It is told through poetic and fragmented journal-type entries. ‘Don’t Hit Me!’ is a fictional book based on factual events. One I speak for female victims of domestic violence. We build forts around ourselves by protecting the individuals who abuse us. I can run away, I can report an incident to the police. My own damn fear keeps me nailed in this box. I want to connect with other women. Can you hear me girls? I’m calling your name. Let’s bring out our hammers and set ourselves free. I can see broken boxes littering the world. Women dancing free, uninhibited…without fear. My name is Sascha Holding and this is my story. Two The cage shakes viciously. Seed and water spit. The bird is singing, was singing, is dead. Decapitated head. Fragments of claw. A broken body. Soul. The cage is placed on the wooden table. I am the bird. Three I want you to stop screaming at me okay? I want you to stop speaking to me as if I am some kind of wild animal. Just explain; explain what you are doing or saying. You don’t have to scream to communicate. You scare me. When you are out, my body relaxes and I can talk on the phone to friends and family without fear. Fear that you do not like the conversation I’m having. Fear that you will rip the phone cord out of the wall. Fear that you will reveal your madness and my own to the people whom I love. I drink coffee, I do my work, I read, I write, I be. Don’t scream in my face ever again. It’s not a scream; it’s a statement. A plan executed to humiliate me in front of the neighbours. Why is it so overacted? So loud? So predictable? I have to leave the house. I don’t look at anyone. Head down, tail between my legs, you have scored another victory. Four He belted me hard, so hard I fell against the bathroom tiles. My head throbbed. I wanted my Mum but she wasn’t there so I wanted him. To help me up, carry me to the bed, apply an icepack to my forehead and cuddle me into the quiet of the afternoon. He left. I tried to coax him back with gurgled cries. He never returned that night. I was left…again. Dismantled. I was angry. I still am. back to Writings index © 2004 Vanessa de Largie