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It’s late at night…well, it’s after bedtime for a 10 year old boy. And, any time after his bedtime always feels late. He hears screaming and crying coming from the back of the house - his parent’s bedroom. This isn’t out of the ordinary Most days included his father screaming at his mom in a drunken rage - usually for some stupid reason - like there wasn’t any mail when his father checked that day, so that must mean that his mom was hiding something.
Tonight the screams are louder and the crying seems more desperate. So, he ventures out of his room and slowly makes his way to the back of the house - wincing in phantom pain every time a scream is particularly loud. On the way, he makes sure to peek in his sisters’ room and is relieved to see that they’re both asleep. As he gets closer and closer to his parent’s room, the cries and screaming grow louder and more intense.
He finally makes it to the hallway leading to their bedroom door, and can now clearly hear his mom pleading, “No, please. Please. Don’t.” He can hear the terror in her voice. He musters up enough courage to peek through the slightly open bedroom door.
He sees his father leaning over his mom, one hand raised and balled up in a fist, the other tightly clenching her shirt as he screams, “Do you want me to hit you, huh? Is that what you fucking want?” Again, she wails, “No. No! Please don’t hit me!”
The young boy is frozen, he can’t move a muscle. He stands there watching the horror of his father threatening to punch his mom for what feels like forever. Her sobs only heard in between his bellowing threats. He wants so badly to stop his father, to do something dramatic and save his mom.
But, no matter how bad he wants to fling the door open and stop his father, he can’t make himself do it. So, he cowardly retreats. Careful not to make any noise and alert his parents of his presence. Before he even reaches the end of the hallway that leads to his parent’s bedroom, he is filled with so much shame and guilt for not doing anything that it's hard to walk. He makes his way back to his bed, climbs in and feels worthless. He failed to stop his father.
He will wonder for the rest of his life, but never know if his father hit his mom. One thing he does know is that he failed to protect his mom that night. He failed to protect her from his father - from the man that was supposed to be protecting his mom, his sisters and him.
He failed.
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I don't know whether this story is true or not but it is well written.
ReplyThank you. It's true. I've struggled with this for nearly 30 years. Working through some very heavy stuff with my counselor right now and it has been helpful to write out bad memories in story form. It allows me to see what happened from an outside perspective and begin to give myself some grace.
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