When You Realize You've Become 'That Mom'...and What Comes Next

16

--------->>>Author's Note: Warning. May cause triggers for violence and abuse. 

Hours passed and still, Debra could not be reached. I had failed him. I had failed Chris. I was a failure of a mother. I couldn't protect him from this world just as I couldn't protect my own mother. 

Images of the past swam through my mind as it consumed my racing thoughts. I'm maybe 8-years old playing with my younger brother in the living room. My mother was always sad. I almost never saw her smile. The scowl that permanently colored her face served as the painful reminder that I was unwanted.

He and I both were, but me more than him. She looked at me as the person that ruined her life. I was to blame for her suffering and nothing she could do would ease the pain etched so deep into her soul. 

She was always afraid, and I was always afraid for her. I knew that I was responsible for her unhappiness and I wanted to protect her but I didn't know how. How could I protect her from this life?

My father arrived and as I heard the keys jangle by the front door a part of my heart stopped beating. My brother and I froze, it only took him a moment before he bolted from the living room and was gone. My brother was wiser than I was. 

There was something in the air, a stench of alcohol that could be smelt from this distance. Father had been drinking. My mother looked towards me, there was something in her eyes that I couldn't quite grasp. I couldn't identify this look, not at first. The weight of her stare bore into me as I remained frozen in place.

It would seem that standing still and doing nothing was my mantra. It was who I was. A coward. A weak coward who was incapable of protecting anyone. Perhaps the look in her eyes was that of pity. She didn't want me to see what came next...or maybe she did.

The lock unlatched and the handle turned and with it, the door swung open. There he stood, my father, 5'9" caramel skin and a full beard and mustache covered his face. His dark brown eyes glistened with frustration. Something happened.

"Damn it, why the fuck did you lock both locks?" he screamed as he slammed the door closed. The walls shook violently as the door pounded against them.

"I always lock all of the locks," she stammered. The fear in her eyes was evident.

"When I come home I want to be able to get into my own fucking house. Were you just standing here listening to me trying to get in?" he accused.

"No, I was trying to quiet down the kids. This one is always causing trouble," she pointed a finger at me and her scowl grew. 

He turned to look at me but only for a moment.

"Stop fucking lying you fucking bitch. You know I can fucking hear you through the door. Your god damn slippers didn't move a fucking inch" smack! straight across her face. Her head rocked back and cracked against the wall. A small stream of blood trickled down from her lip.

"No! I wasn't. I was telling them to behave. Cathy, she was picking a fight with her brother. I was trying to stop her. Please, you don't understand," she cried. She's crying. Tears are streaming from her face and as I stand there frozen I can't help but feel sad that I am incapable of protecting her.

I should be able to do something. I want to scream. I want to yell. I want to rage and stop this madness from happening but I am powerless and weak and that weakness eats at me from the inside. I see his eyes so filled with hatred I wonder if he ever loved her. 

"You are always spewing that bullshit about her. Do you think I don't know that the boy isn't mine? That I don't know you spread your legs for another man. You think I don't know that's why you don't want her?"

"No! That's not..."

"You think I don't know that you dream about leaving me so you can be with this asshole? Huh? Answer me woman!" smack! 

"Nooooo!" she wailed so loudly I thought that the whole world could hear her scream.

He pushed her against the wall and walked past her into the kitchen. I thought that she would remain quiet. I thought that she would see the right choice in front of her face but she was so blind sometimes it was impossible to tell what thoughts went through her mind.

"You think you can just come home and speak to me like this?" she called out to him. I was stunned. I heard her voice speak but my mind couldn't wrap around why she would call to him. 

"Answer me!" she called. He turned towards her, his hand wrapped around a plate, he was making himself dinner as though nothing had happened. She had brought awareness to their dispute.

"What the fuck do you want from me woman? Can't I eat in peace?" He yelled with an exasperated sigh. By now, I had my head peaking around the entrance of the living room but I was still too afraid to show my face.

"Do you think I wanted this life?" she spat. "I had OPTIONS. You knocked me up and here I am. Trapped. Just the way you want me. Trapped like an animal surrounded by spoiled children who don't know how to behave. The girl. Don't get me started on her,"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because he dropped the plate, grabbed the knife that was sitting on the counter and was on her in a flash. The knife pressed against her throat.

"Go ahead bitch, say something else," he loudly whispered into her ear, his breath brushing against her flesh.

"No..." this word escaped her voice like a whisper. The knife pressed deeper into her flesh.

"You got nothing to say about your life? You got nothing to say about our daughter? Go ahead, I fucking dare you," his words came across like the threat I knew they were.

"No, I'm sorry...I didn't mean it," she was crying now. The blood was trickling down her neck where the knife was cutting the skin.

"I will kill you right here right now, I will slit your fucking throat. Answer me, you want to say something say it,"

"Go ahead and kill me, let her watch," her eyes caught mine for the first time since he came home. He turned and saw me for the first time, not like the first passing glance he gave but a real deep awareness of my presence filled his gaze.

"Cathy?" his voice trailed off.

"You fu-ck-ing bitch," was all he said before he pulled himself away from her. He turned to look at me with the knife in his hand. His eyes caught mine and he saw where my eyes roamed. He looked down at the knife and dropped it.

"I didn't...she...it's not...Cathy..." he was stammering. He couldn't pull his thoughts together and so he simply turned around and walked out of the door. 

She slid down the wall until she was curled into a ball on the floor. I slowly motioned towards her to offer her some semblance of comfort. "Get away from me!" she cried. Her tears streaming down her face.

I flinched and stepped away. Walking slowly backward until it felt safe to turn and run. I had failed to protect her.

As I break away from my memories the phone rings. On the screen, the name "Debra" flashed across. "Chris!" I screamed loud enough to capture Charlie's attention. He comes over to me and sees the caller ID. 

"Answer it," he demands. With that I press accept.

--------------->>>Author's Note

I hope this scene wasn't too intense. I know you may have been hoping for some resolution with Chris and I promise you the answers will come soon. Thank you for reading this chapter and if you enjoyed it please show your support with a vote and/or comment.