Page 58 - Daphne Hart - 89 and Feeling Fine

As if it were my fault, I didn’t have boys.

That was the only problem: no boys.

Sometimes I would hide when he came home. Once, I

was kicked down four flights of stairs, eight months into
the last pregnancy. The reason? I put a crease in his shirt

sleeves when I ironed it and dared to tell him, “Why
don’t you do it yourself?”

Poor Shernett — she refused to die, although she was

very traumatized by it all. When she was born, she didn't
breathe for a good two minutes or more.

Because of that, for fifteen years I suffered the worst
abuse you can imagine — physical, mental,

psychological — and my self-esteem was below zero.

Battered and bruised, and with no one to turn to, I turned
to his mother. May her soul rest in peace. She would

tell me that if I wanted to leave, she would take care of
the children. But where could I possibly go?

She offered to build me a little room at the back of her
house, but I would not accept, because I was deathly

afraid of her son. Dear Miss Winnie — she would take

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