According to the text, the author states, “‘Git!’ he [Rebecca’s father] yelled, pointing at the house, allowing no time for pleasantries. ‘Git upstairs and hide in that closet in your mama’s old sitting room, and don’t come out till I git you myself. Do you hear me?’ … Soon enough my papa would climb the stairs and come find me. And when he did, will, I was eager for him to see just how perfect I was. Just how willingly I’d obeyed his every word. Then maybe he’d finally take notice of me, since he never seemed to notice before. I made for the closet, crawled into the small, dark, rarely used space, wrapped my fingers around the edge of the door and pulled it shut as well as I could… The sound of a stampede--hundreds of bodies running with purpose. The sound of violence--things crashing and breaking as a series of screams rang out, one in particular, one that I recognized as my father’s, that rose above all the rest. The sound of my front door being pulled from its hinges. The sound of my house being stormed, invaded, ransacked, and looted. The sound of the horrible, lingering silence of a papa that never came looking for me. And yet, I continued to wait like he asked. Waited long past the time the crackling began and the closet
According to the text, the author states, “‘Git!’ he [Rebecca’s father] yelled, pointing at the house, allowing no time for pleasantries. ‘Git upstairs and hide in that closet in your mama’s old sitting room, and don’t come out till I git you myself. Do you hear me?’ … Soon enough my papa would climb the stairs and come find me. And when he did, will, I was eager for him to see just how perfect I was. Just how willingly I’d obeyed his every word. Then maybe he’d finally take notice of me, since he never seemed to notice before. I made for the closet, crawled into the small, dark, rarely used space, wrapped my fingers around the edge of the door and pulled it shut as well as I could… The sound of a stampede--hundreds of bodies running with purpose. The sound of violence--things crashing and breaking as a series of screams rang out, one in particular, one that I recognized as my father’s, that rose above all the rest. The sound of my front door being pulled from its hinges. The sound of my house being stormed, invaded, ransacked, and looted. The sound of the horrible, lingering silence of a papa that never came looking for me. And yet, I continued to wait like he asked. Waited long past the time the crackling began and the closet