Dying to Live

Chapter 1

My dad used to tell me that he hated beating on my mom and me, but that never stopped him. Funny thing is, I never really understood why he would do it. There never seemed to be an actual reason for getting hit. He rarely drank, and when he did he was a sad drunk. Too sad to actually do anything except weep through the night until he passed out. Drugs killed almost everyone on his side of the family, so he never touched any. I think he might have been a man who had lost all hope for a life that was happy and successful, and that made him lash out. He married his high school sweetheart but couldn't provide for her the way he wanted to. He had trophies galore from doing sports in high school, but some old friends of his used to tell me that even though he was good, he was never good enough to win scholarships to universities. Smart guy too... Again just not smart enough. So no scholarship on that end either. He grew up poor so there wasn't a way for him to pay out of pocket. Loans were an option, and at one point he was going to suck up his pride, go to a bank, and ask them about student loans. But then I came along, right at the last minute. Basically, he loved a less than average life for his whole life. And that made him angry.
I can still remember the first time he hit me. This wasn't a spanking or anything like that either. I had gotten plenty of those from him and my mom, normally for acting up in public. I didn't go to school one day because my dad had hurt my mom so badly that she slept for an entire day. Because of that, I couldn't get to school so I stayed home without my dad knowing ahead of time. when he got home, seeing me take care of my mom instead of doing my homework he became furious. That was the first time my father had ever seriously hit me. I was 7.
When I was 17 my father came home from an interview he had been at earlier in the day. He was supposed to be the new supervisor at a local factory. The job would have paid him well enough for us to actually move out of the neighborhood we were living in. He went out of his way to buy a new suit. Nothing too fancy, but it was nice enough to make a good impression on his future bosses. He told us the interview went so well, they offered him the job on the spot, and my father gladly accepted. He was happy, happier than I had ever seen him, and my mother was ecstatic. To celebrate, she made a ton of food for him. Food that he loved. We sat around the dinner table, laughing and talking about our days. It felt like a real family for once.
After dinner we sat down in the living room and watched a movie together. About half way through the movie, he got a phone call. My mom stopped the movie and her and I waited to find out what the call was about. It was the factory owner. The phone was loud enough for us to hear everything the man on the line was saying. They told him that despite what they had said earlier, he would not be getting the job. Apparently, my father had lied during the interview and they found out by calling some of the places he had supposedly worked at. No one at those places knew who my father was, and that did not sit well with the owner. My father's smile faded away completely, and my mother's eyes were filled with tears full of anger, sadness and disapointment . He hung up the phone and stood there in silence, not looking at me or my mother. After some time my mother spoke up.
"Paulo... why did you lie? You could have gotten the job without lying. You work so hard all the time they would have taken you."
"Shut up, I don't need a damn lecture from you. I work my ass off and I'm going to get talked down to because I did what I thought was best for my family? Does that sound fair to you at all? Huh? Does that sound like something a good wife would do to her husband?"
"Paulo no one is talking down on you I'm asking you a question. Your family deserves to know why you lied. I don't care if you did it for the right reasons, you still lied and that cost you a job. If you cared so much about us why didn't you think twice before lying about where you worked?"
"Hey! Don't talk back to me like that, I provide for this family I deserve to be respected."
"Respected? You want respect? You lied! You lied to people who were going to give you an opportunity to get us out of here. If you can lie to someone who has the keys to your future, to our future, how do I know you aren't lying about some other stuff. You've been a lot of things, but I never took you for a liar. But now I-"
"What? You think I would lie to you?" He stepped closer to my mother. "You honestly think that I would lie to you about anything? And you're gonna go ahead and question me to my face? In front of my son? Our son?! Looks like you don't respect me at all... You're going to learn to respect your man tonight." And with that he smacked her across the face. Hard.
But then my mother did something. In the years that I had lived with her, I had never seen her stand up to my father's abuse. But something in her mind must have told her that this was the last straw. So so punched him back. Harder than he hit her. He stumbled back and fell.
She screamed, "NO MAN THAT HITS HIS WIFE DESERVES ANY RESPECT! I'm tired of being hurt by you. Get out of my house!"
My father looked at my mother, his eyes burning with hatred and anger. He stood up and punched her square in the face. Blood flowed from her nose and she fell down crying. I got up to defend her, but my dad was quicker than me. He backhanded me and I flew backwards. He turned to my mom, and straddled her. His fist rose up and slammed into my mother's face. He hit her again. And again. And again. Her tearful sobs were becoming softer, and her shouts of anger subsided. I stood up and threw myself onto him. He threw me across the room, got off my mom, and grabbed me by the throat, lifting me up off the ground.
"You really shouldn't have done that mijo," he growled. Right before he slammed me on the floor and brought his fist into my face. Over and over and over. I couldn't breath. Blood filled my mouth, I'm still surprised I didn't choke on it. My eyes were swelling up and I slowly lost my vision. He eventually let go of my throat, but didn't stop his assault. He hit me all over. My chest felt like it had caved in. I could feel my ribs crack and break as he pummeled me ceaselessly and mercilessly. Every part of my body throbbed with a pain I had never known before. He stood up, breathing heavily from his exertion of energy.
I tried to speak.
I tried forcing out the word "Papi..." through my lips, but before I could, my father's foot dropped onto my head, and I have gone the rest of my life not knowing what happened next in that house.