THIRTEEN IS MY NUMBER
Excerpt
'I've been counting ever since I learnt how to. It helps. Thirteen is my number. It's how many times mother hits me on the back. I also count when I wet myself because I'm scared. It stays warm up to thirteen, then it feels cold between my legs. When it's dark, my ears are throbbing thirteen times. That's death on the staircase. Behind the wooden wall, where mother and father are sleeping, I can hear a creaking sound. Thirteen times. That's when father comes home from his night shift.
Here on Mount Napf, everything's going the wrong way. Anyone living at the back of the mountain is a Bernese Protestant. Anyone living at the front is a Catholic and belongs to the Canton of Lucerne. Both under the same roof don't usually get on. As long as mother remains a Protestant, she'll still have her cheerfulness. Father is a Catholic, he has his silence. Nobody knows about my black heart. I'm admired by everyone; they tell me, 'Such a dear father. Such a beautiful mother. You'll become like her one day.'
My mother is the greatest. I don't mind if she hits me. I would give everything for her to love me. I'm sure she'll love me one day, because no-one loves her like I do.'
'I've been counting ever since I learnt how to. It helps. Thirteen is my number. It's how many times mother hits me on the back. I also count when I wet myself because I'm scared. It stays warm up to thirteen, then it feels cold between my legs. When it's dark, my ears are throbbing thirteen times. That's death on the staircase. Behind the wooden wall, where mother and father are sleeping, I can hear a creaking sound. Thirteen times. That's when father comes home from his night shift.
Here on Mount Napf, everything's going the wrong way. Anyone living at the back of the mountain is a Bernese Protestant. Anyone living at the front is a Catholic and belongs to the Canton of Lucerne. Both under the same roof don't usually get on. As long as mother remains a Protestant, she'll still have her cheerfulness. Father is a Catholic, he has his silence. Nobody knows about my black heart. I'm admired by everyone; they tell me, 'Such a dear father. Such a beautiful mother. You'll become like her one day.'
My mother is the greatest. I don't mind if she hits me. I would give everything for her to love me. I'm sure she'll love me one day, because no-one loves her like I do.'
