Meal time on the weekends was the worst. Recently he told her she was no longer allowed to wear anything but a long tshirt to the table. No shorts. No underwear. Only the shirt. She couldn't imagine why, until it happened. No sooner had they all sat down to eat when his foot was up in her lap poking at her crotch. She jumped, causing him to jump, too.. He banged his foot, as well as his knee, on the underside of the table. She turned to stare at him - and immediately knew she was in trouble. He sat stone still and glared at her. He reminded her of a gargoyle. She could see nothing but hatred and evil in his face. The tension hung in the air like a dark storm cloud. Her Mother, who sat directly across from her, carried on passing the food as if absolutely nothing was amiss.
She swallowed and tried to control her breathing as she slowly resumed her sitting position. She knew what was expected of her. Feet flat on the floor - hands on the table top. Within moments, she felt his foot searching her lap again. As it poked and prodded, he leered at her. A malicious, hateful sneer that turned her stomach. Her eyes burned as small tears prickled in them. She blew air from her mouth up her own face to try to dry them before they fell. She willed herself not to cry.
She lost any appetite she may have had. She pushed the food around on her plate. She tried her best to ignore the toes squirming and pinching at her. She was disgusted and ashamed. "Why is this happening?!" she yelled in her head. "What have I done to deserve this?!" For the life of her, she had no idea. Her heart started racing and she began to shake.. Her breathing grew faster and the tears threatened to fall again.
She was not going to take this any longer. It had to stop. Now. She grabbed the knife next to her plate. She cut her salmon patty in half, then quickly slid the knife down to the seat of her chair. She wedged the blade under her leg so it wouldn't fall. As her hand gripped the handle, she counted backwards from 10. She would stab him in the foot. It was just a dinner knife, but she was pretty sure she could cause enough damage to make him stop. Her palms were sweating and she was nervous. But she was ready to fight. She started the count down over.
"Something wrong?" he suddenly asked her. Jamming his foot hard into her crotch. So hard that his toenail cut the inside of her thigh.
"No...no, sir...nothing."
"You look like you don't feel well. Is there a problem with your food?"
"No,,,no, sir...its fine. I guess I'm just not hungry."
"Then you go ahead and clear your plate and leave the table. No reason for you to sit here and stare at the rest of us. You can leave now."
She felt bile rising in her throat. Had she been caught? She wasn't sure. Did he know what she was about to do? He couldn't. Could he? Woodenly she stood and tried to arrange her tshirt. She gathered her plate and utensils and walked into the kitchen. As she washed off her plate, she stared out the window over the sink. "How will I make it through this? When is this going to end? I have to do something. Don't know what, but something."
She loaded her things into the dishwasher. As she looked down, she saw a small paring knife in the silverware basket. Without even thinking about it, she quietly grabbed it, folded it into her palm, and walked out of the kitchen.