February 13, 2009
By Chandani.s GOLD, Jersey City, New Jersey
Chandani.s GOLD, Jersey City, New Jersey
12 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well-H.D.T

It is late and you are so tired. You can't help but hear the enraged screams of your parents from
the other room. You lift the pillow over your head in a feeble attempt to drone out the sounds, but
it does no good. The shouts are slowly becoming more fearful; pleading and they are coming closer.
Suddenly your mother opens you bedroom door. She tells you that she is going to hide in your closet,
and that if Roger comes in he can't know where she is. She smiles shakily at you and you nod. Even
though you are young you understand that your mother is in danger, and that you are responsible for
her safety. She quickly slides into the closet and closes the door. You lie back down waiting for
the worst to come. Waiting for the man. You hear him now, in the hallway. His voice shouting slurred
cusses at your mother. His voice thick with an intoxicated stupor. He kicks open your door and you
stiffen under the covers. Your breath becomes shallow and then quickens as he grabs you by the hair.
He demands to know where your mother is, his eyes crazed and distant. You reply only in a whimper,
you know you must not tell him where she is. You have to save your mother. He screams in your face,
covering you with his drunken slobber. You begin to cry, for it is the only thing that you can do in
this situation. You cry because you are scared and you cry because you are so very young, and you
have been held with the responsibility of an adult. A small sound comes from the closet and your
breath catches. You pray to god that he does not hear it. You close your eyes and silently beg for
the monster to leave, but he does not. He drops you like a bag on the floor and rushes towards the
closet. You lie there unable to do anything as he pulls your mother out by her hair. He asks her if
she thinks that she can run, if she thinks that she can escape. Your mother only whimpers letting
fat tears roll down her cheeks. He say's and pulls his arm back, ready to swing. You cry for him
to stop and your small plea fills the room, but he does not oblige, he does not even acknowledge. A
sadistic grin creeps across his face as he launches his arm forward into your mothers face. You
wince and cry even more at the audible crack of your mother's facial features. You lie there and
watch, for what seems like hours as he beats her. Your mind and heart both long to go and aid
your poor beaten mother, but your body is a cage, it has trapped you in fear. With every punch, you
scream for your mother, you beg for the monster to stop, you do all that you can with your voice
alone. But the voice of the tormented four year old goes unheard. You watch as he leaves the room,
and you crawl to your mother's broken and bloody body on the floor. You hold her and listen
closely to the slow sound of her pulse. At that moment you feel hate that you did not know was
possible. In that second you want nothing more than to make the monster suffer as much as he has
made you. But you do not stand up, or confront the monster. You hold your mother in you're small
but able arms and bury that hate. Seal it deep inside of you, for you know that it will be of use to
you, Someday.

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