Free writing

Home-Winter

Mamá never intended for my brother and I to witness her getting beat but there was no stopping what was to come. My brother was only five while I was ten, it was an uneventful weekend that was too quiet, I noticed.

No one was at home besides my mom and my sibling so we decided to watch some television.Our living room wasn't anything too special, the only unique thing about it, was that it was painted red. Originally, my parents had painted it yellow, thinking about it, at the time I had simply believed their taste in color had changed. Oh, how naive of me to think of such a thing.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk

His heavy footsteps loomed the hallway, brown boots appearing before me. His pure sight was enough to make me cower. I was never afraid of how he looked like, but of the things he was capable of doing.

Father was the evil weed in between the flowers. I had only realized this until the fog had cleared from my eyes years later.

My worn down brown bunny falls from my lap onto the floor and that's when all hell falls lose. He had only made it a few steps into the kitchen before he dragged Mama from the couch and smashed her small weakened body into the wall. Brother had barely managed to shriek when Mama just looked at me with eyes of plead. Father looked back at me and said nothing.

At that moment I was a small mouse crumbling against the image of a lion. I quickly grabbed Summer and hid in the bedroom. We were immensely poor, so we all shared the same room.

"Sis-sis-sis-sis.... what's da-dadd-y doing to mo-mm-y..?"

I wanted to tell him the truth but I knew he was far too young to understand. Father beat Mama because he was always mad at the world. In his own way, he could only get back at it by hurting those who loved him.

"He's hurting her Summer, that's what's he's doing,  just be quiet for now okay bud? No le digas a nadie (don't tell anyone)"

You see, it was our own little secret, if others were to found out, our little happy image would break a part. Dad was great at manipulating who he was, if mom were to tell anyone he'd turn the tables.

"Fucking worthless bitch, you had one job and that was to cook me a decent meal, not this piece of shit!"

Crack!

The sound of glass sounded throughout the house.

Stunned I stepped out of the room and looked into the kitchen. Sadly, there wasn't anything good to be seen. Mamá was sitting in the middle of the scene, body beaten to the point where everything seemed purple and bruised. He on the other hand, had just stepped outside.

I broke down. It wasn't courageous by any means but what else was I supposed to do?

My brother was still hiding and I was just staring at the mess of things. How bittersweet of something to break so easily, just like sugar. Sweet when it's in, but bitter when it's out.

I lied on the cold cement floor bawling until I lost consciousness. The golden rays of the sun had woken me up, I had heard sirens and woke with a start.

I ran from the kitchen floor to the front door. There on the staircase lied my father with his hands in hand locks looking betrayed. Mamá on the other side looked guilty.

That day, sucked. Dad left, and soon so did Mamá. Nothing lasts forever, now that I am aware of.