Take Me Home

31. The truth

Roger shook his head, "It was just a game for him. My mother would pass out from drinking but he always made sure that he didn't drink too much. Almost every other night, he would come and the moment he saw me he would make sure my mother was around before dragging me downstairs. He would punch me, kick me, slap me, yank me around. He..." He clenched his fists, "He even brought a knife down one day and threatened me with it for an hour straight, laughing while I cried and begged him not too. He never ended up cutting me. But one night he left me so beat up and exhausted from it all that I didn't get up. That really scared him because he thought mother would care. He left me in the basement for a night and one of my sisters found me in the morning. I was okay, but then I found out that after he would beat me he would go find them. My sisters." His hands were shaking as Freya's eyes widened. Roger chuckled darkly, shaking his head before continuing. "He had raped one of them. He would beat them and abuse them too. Just not as much as me. I hadn't known for a while, but when they both finally told me that he was hurting them too, I went crazy. I told mother while her boyfriend was there one night and what did she do? She slapped me across my face, calling me names and saying I was a liar. Then they continued drinking."

"My sisters and I didn't know what to do after a few months of it. Whenever he would come over, I would run away. I hid in the woods most of the time, I even made a little fort thing out of wood and cardboard one time. I wanted to bring my sisters but they were always with mother. She would have them cook or clean or something else. She didn't believe that he would hurt them. She didn't believe me when I showed her the bruises and the scars. She thought I was going out and getting into fights. She would beat me too."

He stopped, voice cracking and shaky as he inhaled shakily, continuing, "Things only got worse. They would always be drinking and they didn't care about us anymore. They were so addicted, so selfish, that sometimes they would disappear for days straight. I had to try to feed my sisters and most of the time we didn't get enough to eat. I wanted to tell someone or ask someone for help but I couldn't. I was too scared. he said that he would kill me if I did. And then my sisters. I hated that man more than anything. And then, I hated my mother too. For not being there for us. When they did come back, it was normal at first. Mother would always apologize at first, saying she wouldn't leave again. And the next night, she would drink and stay in her room. Her boyfriend would come over, making sure she was asleep. I would put my sisters to bed and then I would run. One night he figured out where I was and he followed. I went home with a broken arm that night. Mother didn't care. My sisters were worried. They left again and didn't come back for a few weeks. I was okay with that. I got my dads revolver and I would hunt. That was the only thing to feed us because all the other money was spent on Alcohol and beer. We wore the same outfits everyday. It continued for a few years. I was eleven now...I think. They would go and come as they pleased, but thankfully the man had stopped beating me and my sisters as much."

"One night I came home to find them back and they were upstairs messing around. I didn't know how long they had been home, I had spent the day hunting. I walked into my sisters room and they were both sobbing. They were older now too and they understood things now. I asked them what was wrong and I found out he had hurt both of them." Roger stopped, fists clenched and knuckles white. "I tried to kill him. He came downstairs and I had the revolver and I threatened him. My mother was with him and she was telling me to stop. I didn't listen, I told her what he had done. My sisters were behind me. He denied everything and my mother listened to him, scolding me and ripping the gun from me. She slapped me a few times and I ran outside. He chased after me, I suppose he offered to come get me. That wasn't his plan." Roger stopped, pulling his pants up to reveal a scar. It was a little long, from his knee to his mid thigh. It was faded and hardly visible as Roger began speaking again, "He caught me. And this time he did use the knife. I think he was trying to kill me but it didn't happen. He pinned me down, punching me repeatedly and then he pulled it out and just began dragging the blade across my leg. I guess I must have screamed pretty loud because a few men found me, one of them shooting him."