Night of My Life

November 18, 2009
I look up in my mom’s eyes and wonder if I’ll make it through this horrible night.

“Stay away from me!” I say for the hundredth time. I close my eyes and shut myself down. I pray that this will not be like last time. She comes at me from across the room. Her eyes burn red with hate. I push myself back in the dark corner of my room. Fear hits me like a train when I realize I have no other place to hide.

“You’re a disgrace,” she yells as she grabs me and slams me against the bunk bed. My back is throbbing from where it just hit the metal frame. I fall back, but she moves closer, closing the space between us in seconds. She looks crazed as she towers over me with a wild expression on her face, a fork clenched in her hand from dinner.

“Where is it?” she screams.

“It’s not yours its dad’s you can’t take it!” I scream back. She’s mad and I know it. I should’ve never said anything about the phone being dads. She was never suppose to find out I had it, but after the last beating dad wanted me to be able to call him if it where to happen again. Well it’s happening again and this time it’s going to be bad. If only I can remember where I hid my phone. I would give it to her in a heartbeat. Maybe then she wouldn’t hurt me.

“I don’t know where it is.” My voice is barely above a whisper. She screams and lunges at me. She has my upper arm,
My other arm has pain searing through it. I turn to look. She’s pulling her hands away from me. I then realize one of her hands was still holding the fork. The pain in my arm is from the forked being stabbed into it.

“Oh my god!” I scream.

“Don’t oh my god me I barely touched you!” she yells back. I felt her fist hit my temple before I actually saw it. It moved at lighting speed to my face. And just when it dawns on me that she has just punched me, it happens again and again, twice more. The second time my glasses fly from my face. My temple is throbbing and my eye hurts from my glasses slamming into it. I’m crying now, my hands balled up in fists by my face. She grabs the front of my sweatshirt pulling me up to my feet. My vision is blurred from tears.

“Give it to me now Brittney.” she’s yelling inches from my face. I’ve played this game before, I know I just have to give up and she’ll go away. I shut my body down, but she doesn’t go away. She backs away from me. She almost looks sorry for what she’s just done. I decide to make a run for it. I make a mad dash for the bedroom door, but she’s faster. She comes from behind me and grabs me before I can reach the door. Her body smashes into mine, throwing me into the bookshelf. One of the shelves slams into my ribs. I scream in agony. I must have broken one. No, bruised I think. The pain goes numb as she grabs me by the hair. I let out a blood-curling scream. Suddenly my sister Ali is in the doorway. She’s too young to have to see this.

“Should I get help?” she cries. She doesn’t know what to do. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Ali doesn’t need to know that this is what happens to her big sister. I’m supposed to be protecting her. I guess in a way I am. I’m making sure mom takes it out on me, not her. I look at Ali and wonder what’s going on in her mind. As I watch her, a single tear falls down her cheek. I know I will never forget that one tear. That tear shows to me that I have failed. At the same moment my mom pushes me away from her. I fall backwards into my desk. A glass candleholder falls and shatters into a hundred tiny pieces. Ali screams. My mom crosses the room in three swift strides, my bedroom door slams shut and she is now standing in front of it, like a guard at a prisons’ gate. Time stands still as she looks across the room at me with a burning in her eyes. I can hear Ali screaming on the other side of the door. I need to get out of here. I need to get Ali out of here, get her away from all of this. I didn’t even see my mom lunge at me. I was paying attention to the front door slamming. All of a sudden hands are around my neck. She slams me backwards, the back of my head slams into the window, it shatters. My floor is covered in glass and my head is throbbing. I’m trying to keep my eyes focused on her face, but it hurts too much to try. I sob. Her face goes slack, she drops her hands and I suck in a deep breath. My mom looks down at her hands. She looks at them in disbelief, as if she can’t believe what she’s just done. All of a sudden she has the chair from my desk. She slams it into my legs, pinning me to the wall below the window. I try to push the chair away with my free hand, but she grabs it and smiles. It makes me sick. She slowly starts to push my hand backwards. I start to squirm. I’m pushing away but she’s still there. I start to scream, it hurts so bad, I can’t take it. That’s when I hear it, a soft snapping noise. It then dawns on me that she’s breaking me. I hear a shrill screaming, and then I realize that it’s me I’m hearing. She yanks the chair away and grabs me again. This time I fight back. I push her away and try to go for the door again. That’s when I hear her.

“Ali don’t!” my mom screams. I look to the window and see Ali standing at the neighbors’ door. I scream for her to call 911. My mom turns and realizes I’ve moved closer to the door. She lunges again and pins me to the wall. She’s leering at me.

“Hit me Britt, come on hit me!” she taunts. I can’t. She’s my mom. These things aren’t supposed to happen. She laughs and throws me to the floor. I hurt so bad, getting up is not an option. She sees my pain and laughs again. Laughs! There I am lying in a trampled heap on the floor. Black eye, bruised ribs, broken wrist, and blood coming from my head, and she’s laughing! Laughing at my pain, and it’s all because of a stupid cell phone. She slowly walks to me a hovers above me. I try to squirm away. She grabs me under the shoulders and drags me to the bed. I’m too hurt to fight back. She throws me back, and I push myself against the wall. Her fist smashes into my face again. Blood pours from my nose. I try to beg her to stop, but I can’t. She hits me again. Next thing I know she’s on top of me, reaching for a pillow. She’s shoving it over my face. I’m fighting. I try to breathe, but I inhale blood. I’m choking, I can’t breathe. And then I hear it, soft sirens in the background. Hopefully they’re coming to help me. I have a feeling it’ll be too late.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

its.optional:] said...
Dec. 2, 2009 at 1:16 pm
i am so sorry
 
its.optional:] said...
Dec. 2, 2009 at 1:13 pm
wow, i wish i could write like that. thats sooo visual it made my eyes water...keep writing thats...thats wow
 
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