Silently, I stood there in horror watching him throw my poor mom into the hard wooden door frame. I was too young to know what to do, but I knew I would never be able to forget. The sight of her curling up into a ball on the ground, pleading for mercy and begging for it to stop was more than any child should ever have to witness. What still confuses me, is after my mom stopped moving he wouldn’t stop, and he just kept going at her like a wild dog. I was barely five at the time, but I remember walking over to her body after he cleared out of the house.
“Mommy?” I questioned waiting for a response.“Mommy?” I asked again. Still no answer. I tried shaking her, I thought she was sleeping, and maybe I could wake her up. It was nighttime, so I figured I would go to sleep, like mommy, for the night.
When I woke up in the morning, my mom was still there not breathing, not moving and not sleeping. I was very young, but I understood my mother was dead, and I’d never get to say goodbye.