When I look back, I know I was a horrible kid. I'm sure my parents thought they got stuck with "The Bad Seed." I don't know when I started cutting school. It was definitely elementary school.. I'm thinking 4th grade. I was physically sick to my stomach every morning on the way there. I think there was a boy that teased me for being fat that year. They all thought I was faking it. I'd go to the nurse with a stomach ache. She'd let me lay there for a while, then I have to go back to class. I hated it so much. I wasn't a dumb kid, either. I was pretty good in all subjects. But I hated it. My mom took me to our family doctor because of the stomach aches. He yelled at me, told me there was nothing wrong with me, and to go to school and stop bothering my mother at work. So, when the school nurse started turning me away, I'd just leave. My mom would drop us off, I'd say goodbye, fully intending to go to my class, then I'd get that sick feeling on my way, and I'd turn away and walk off campus. I'd go to the Safeway or the Five and Dime next to the school, and just walk the isles. I would dream of being grown, and not having to go to school. Sometimes they'd tell me to leave, so I would. Then, I'd sit on the curb or just walk the day away, until school let out, then walk home. Sometimes I'd use my milk money to call my mom from the pay phone in the store parking lot. Soon, she was having someone else answer her phone and tell me she wasn't there. I really missed her so much and I was always so worried about her. I couldn't stand to be away from her. Oh my God, I just couldn't stand to be away from her.. I had forgotten how attached I was to her. I don't blame her now. I was pure evil even then.
So, our parents would get home, and whether or not I had called my mom, they would always know. My dad would come into my bedroom, where I'd be waiting, his belt in his hand, and spank the hell out of my bare ass, every single day that I missed school, which meant every single day.I remember just biting the inside of my mouth so hard, just to keep from making any noise. I wouldn't allow myself to cry. Now that I think about it, it probably pissed him off more and made him hit harder and longer! So much for being a smart kid. This happened, well, I actually don't know how long. But I know that one day, I heard my dad come into the house. I was in my room, waiting. I found myself climbing out the window, and running into the canyon. There was a lot of canyon back then, and we lived in a Cul-de-Sac, right on the edge. I ran for quite a while. I was 9. I turned around and could see our house. I saw my dad, with our dog, in the canyon- searching. I remember feeling sorry for him just then. I wanted, at that moment, to go back, but I was afraid of the spanking I knew I was gonna get, so I just kept walking. The sun was going down- I was exhausted and cold, so I sat down on a familiar corner and waited. It wasn't long before I saw our station wagon coming toward me. My brother was driving, my mom in the passenger seat. They pulled over and I got in the back seat, nobody said a word. Then my mom asked, "why?" I said, "because I didn't want another spanking." I couldn't believe it when she simply said, "there won't be any more spankings." And there weren't.
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