The Little Girl in the Attic

CHAPTER 1

After Amanda’s father had gone to work at the aircraft factory, a job he had hated all his life, because he had been there that long, you could cut the tension in her house with a knife, tension like when someone is always angry at one thing or another and you don’t know when they are going to explode.

“Amanda’s” Mother, “Louise Weylen” a tired somewhat rough looking blonde that had the disposition of a run amuck Rhino, and a constantly aggravated attitude. She screamed at Amanda for not eating her breakfast of (a small bowl of corn flakes, one piece of toast and a half a glass of orange juice) fast enough and yelled out threats of punishment if she didn’t rush through it.

It seemed like she had a daughter, but didn’t like the idea of taking care of her because it cramped her life style. When her husband was there she was the epitome of perfection, but the minute he left the house, she would slam dishes around and man handle Amanda in a very rough manor. A domestic Jekyll and Hyde if you will. On this particular morning she scolded Amanda for nothing and marched her up to the attic, where she placed her when she had some place to go, and that was every day. She pushed her inside, closed and locked the door behind her, and with a smirk on her face went back down stairs. A few moments later her car drove out of the drive and she was gone, leaving the little girl in the attic alone with nothing to drink or eat or bathroom facilities. A federal penitentiary took better care of their people then she did.