Time Tells All (Book 4)

Memories

I sat up in my room, playing with toy trains, my six year old mind, hating every other toy that my dad had brought me. Every day, I would ask him what happened to Mommy, but he just said nothing. I was forced to call my step-mom Mom, even though she wasn’t mine. What I hated the most was that she would hurt me if I was bad or even when I didn’t do anything.

            Today Daddy was at work and wouldn’t get home until late. “Mom” was downstairs cooking dinner when I heard her yell for me. I ran down the stairs, counting them as I made my way into the kitchen. Her face was pure red and fists clenched. I noticed my “brother” was sitting on the couch playing his IPod. He was the same age as me a few months older.

            “Yes Mommy?” I asked, not looking her in the eyes.

            “Did you do your homework?” She snarled.

            I shook my head no, frowning as I did. I knew that bad boys were to be punished and that I was a bad boy. I glanced over and saw that Andrew’s homework wasn’t done either. She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the basement. Tears filled my eyes because I knew she was going to hurt me.

            “I told you to do that earlier and you didn’t listen. Bad boys get punished.” She snapped.

            “Andrew didn’t finish his.” I said, knowing it wasn’t fair that only I was punished. Andrew was never hurt like me and didn’t seen think anything about it.

            “Don’t worry about your brother, just yourself you piece of shit.” She said, throwing me to the ground.

            I started to cry as my knees started to bleed from hitting the hard concrete. I wanted Daddy to come home because Mommy didn’t hurt me as much when he was around. Crying always made her madder but I didn’t know what to do. I was scared and in pain, there was nothing I could do.

            “I hate crying, crying is for the weak!” She yelled, as she threw a punch, connecting with my face.

            “If you want to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.” She snarled as she kicked me in the stomach. I groaned in pain and held back the tears, even though it hurt so badly. I wanted Daddy to come home and save me from her. I knew not to talk to “Mommy” when she punished me because then she would get angrier.

            I tried to cover my face with my hands as punches and kicks came my way but it didn’t help. Her hands wrapped around my throat and she squeezed. I gasped, and tried to claw at her, but she didn’t stop. Once she let go, I feel to the ground, gasping for air. Blood covered my face and arms and I didn’t understand why this was happening to me but not Andrew. It wasn’t fair at all. After my punishment, she left me in the basement for the rest of the night.

            I sat alone in pure darkness and waited for her to come back. She didn’t until the next day. I didn’t get a dinner like I needed and my stomach grumbled all night. I had fallen asleep but woke back up hoping she would come let me out. I knew she did this because I cried and she hated criers. From that day on, I never let myself cry again.

            I was lying on my bed thinking of my past. Why was it so terrible? Why couldn’t I have had a normal childhood? I obviously got my revenge on my step mom and brother for what they did to me but sometimes I think it just wasn’t enough. Maybe I should have let my brother live while his family was dead, and maybe I should have not killed my mom and just let her suffer in pain.