The Ladybug Necklace:

I wandered through the aisles of an unfamiliar store.

Not unknown to most, but a world I'd rarely seen before.

Getting out of the house was a treat-- and one not often gifted.

But with a handful of good behavior, and a pinch of good luck, we might earn one quick trip then.

As we floated through the aisles my fingers danced along the shelves.

I knew that she would look down on it, but I couldn't help myself.

Steady and unrelenting, she kept one hand firm in her grip.

Dragging me past troves of trinkets and treasures I hadn't examined yet.

Then, all of a sudden, fate collided into us by mistake.

A quick conversation, a loss of attention, and I managed to slip away.

While she conversed with a friend, or a relative, or whoever they managed to be,

My attention was captured by a glint on a shelf, and I fell in love immediately.

There was nothing special about you,

Just a small silver ladybug.

With a small silver button that straddled one side, and made your wings pop up.

Nestling underneath your tiny wings a tiny clock lay hidden.

The smallest treasure, your wings clasped back together, and I was completely smitten.

I don't remember before this, ever wanting something so bad.

But knowing what her reaction would be, I sighed and put you back.

And then a hand was on my shoulder, squeezing, pulling me from the shelf.

As she reminded me the reason I never go out, is because I cannot behave myself.

This isn't the last that I'd see of you.

Though, at the time, that's what I had thought.

But I had no idea then, what you would actually cost.

Six weeks of my every summer, the court had devoted to my dad.

A tall, strong, ghost of a person, who lived for the job that he had.

A true provider for his family, a worker, dawn to dusk.

Because when you live your life running a farm, there is no such thing as "enough."

But so what if one parent is never home, if there's another to keep up?

And that he also provided.

He gifted her to us.

She was caring, nurturing, and loving-- or at least her image was.

Because however you remember her, it wasn't the same for us.

On a day like a hundred others, when we found ourselves locked outside,

We racked our brains for games to play, and ways to pass the time.

And there were bound to be certain things, we probably shouldn't have done.

But kids will be kids, and places off limits often hold the most fun.

There was a barn we shouldn't have investigated, and equipment we should never have touched.

We didn't imagine when we lost it along the way, that it would end up meaning so much.

Father came home furious, and all of us got spanked.

But since the games were my idea, my punishment continued the next day.

I don't know if my father ever knew this.

I mostly believe he didn't.

But if you think outside is the only place we got locked,

I promise you,

It isn't.

Children who can't learn how to behave,

Despite given space to roam,

Are children that must have a different punishment,

locked within the home.

The basement really wasn't so bad.

It was more ours than hers.

We had made little games for each other, for whenever it was our turn.

Sometimes it was all of us,

and sometimes just a few,

and sometimes we went solo.

Which it was my turn to do.

When my punishment was fulfilled, I was let back upstairs.

My sister had set up her favorite movie in her room.

We were going to stay together in there.

She grabbed some lime green nail polish, and sat it open on the floor.

Whispered she was going out for paper towels, and quietly slipped out the door.

I don't remember what I'd hit, but things came crashing down.

A lamp, some books, and just like that, nail polish is spilt all over the ground.

I watched, terrified, because I knew what was to come.

Nothing goes unpunished here, especially when you're the "bad one."

And then the door creaked open, and it wasn't my sister there.

It was her instead, angry again, and my heart flooded with despair.

Those awful words crashed off her lips, "I think you need an attitude adjustment."

As if in her little world, that was righteous justice.

Once a year, in the summer, my dad worked these special days.

I didn't know what he was working on, but I knew it kept him away.

And somehow fate collided in an awful sort of way.

As she told my grandparents to cancel my overnight stay.

I stood on the front porch with her, as she told them I couldn't go.

She'd given me chance after chance after chance,

And I was still misbehaving, so,

It was important for me to see opportunities I would have to miss,

If I couldn't get my attitude under control.

And she was starting with this.

I waved goodbye to my siblings,

As they shrank down the road,

And the sun slipped down.

They were headed for fun and good times,

And I was headed in inside,

With the monster of the house.

In a sing-songy voice, she grabbed my hand, and said, "come along, baby doll."

As she half-dragged my unwilling feet down that too short hall.

All of sudden, I'm through the door, dreading what's about to happen.

But this "attitude adjustment" went differently than I could have ever imagined.

She had me strip, the process still the same,

My clothes a small pile on the floor.

I climbed up on the bed, and she positioned my legs,

The same as every time before.

But something was just a little bit different this time,

The camera was still there, that's true.

But this time it was not in her hand, it was on a tripod stand,

In the corner of the room.

Next she turned to her desk, and pulled something out of a drawer.

She told me that now I'm old enough for something we hadn't done before.

The thing her hand, it made the same sound,

As my father's phone when his job calls.

And the feelings it brought while she had it pressed between my legs were unbelievably strong.

Frightened at the swelling inside of me,

I tried to slam my legs together.

But her spider-like fingers crawled in between-- pried them away from each other.

She smacked big welts on the inside of my thighs,

A reminder of my place, and my part.

A warning to understand my punishment,

And that it could always get worse.

This present may have been intended to feel good-- but she didn't care if it hurt.

When everything electronic is silenced,

And my punishment is once again fulfilled,

A gift bag is collected from the closet.

And she expects me to be thrilled.

There is so much hurt and exhaustion.

So much bad, but what could I do?

So I started unbagging my presents.

A brand new nightgown and you.

There in the bag, my brand new dress lies.

Sky blue cotton with lace.

I slipped it over my head, comfy and snug, a perfect fit fell into place.

I've nothing on underneath, but the dress seems to be just enough.

After all, I am normally stripped before I'm about to be touched.

My time spent in this bed, is rarely time spent clothed.

But as this dress wasn't my only gift, I grabbed tissue paper, and began to unfold.

My eyes were so droopy, my body, it ached, I longed to just fall asleep.

One more tear, one more turn, her eyes seemed to burn,

She watched me so intensely.

And then there you were, cradled so delicately, in the palm of my little my hand.

The trinket I'd so adored, the treasure that I'd longed for, glinting from the headboard lamp.

With a long silver chain, tiny clock, tiny wings, you're exactly the way I recall.

Who knew that instead of getting you at the store, I'd get you in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Her spider fingers caressed me once more, but only to clasp you tight.

And so long as I was in the house with her, she made sure you stayed on day and night.

I lost you one day, in a bike crash sort of way.

With skinned up elbows and knees.

Sorely bruised, she made sure I'd searched that road for you,

Until the sun sank past the trees.

Severely scraped up, she took me home to peroxide and liquid bandage my wounds.

As if the crash didn't hurt enough, I can still remember that pain too.

The story of you is one of my worst.

You don't know the pain that you've caused.

And I wonder if I'd still have fallen for you,

If only I'd have known what you'd cost

watching you

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