This nightmare was happening again. I was locked in my room, with my arms wrapped around my knees, my cheek against it, trying to cover my ears with my hands while sitting on my bed.
As much as I tried to block out the horrible noise coming from the living room, I just couldn't suffice to it. I had asked for that monster to stop hurting her several times. He beat as if he didn't hear any of her imploring requests.
It was then to my courage; I opened the door to my bedroom and held out a piece of wood that was left hidden in my room.
"If you don't stop hurting my mother now, I'll... I'll... end you!" I shouted.
My heart was racing. I was scared to death. I didn't know what my father had become. Or rather, what the drinking had done with him.
It was terrifying to have to talk to him in this tone because I knew he had way more strength than I did. He could knock me out in a blink of an eye.
"Oh God, Manuela. Are you seriously threatening me?" He turned to face me. The tone of irony in his voice was noticeable, the smell of alcohol was also noticeable and disturbingly strong.
I looked at my mom, lying in the corner; with a purple right eye and a bleeding forehead. It felt like the end was coming for her and I.
"What are you going to do? Hit me with that ridiculous piece of wood? then what?" He paused, looked at my mother and then came back to look at me. "You know very well that what is coming will be much worse... So go, go ahead, hit me." I trembled and tears flowed from my eyes. He had become a monster, a beast. How can someone change so much? From a person who was totally dedicated to family and work and now a 'pro alcoholist'.
It took me about 20 seconds after my father's little speech to realize, once again, that he will never be the loving and caring father he once was.
I hit him with the wooden stick in the head. He fell to the floor. I helped my mom get up. She was completely terrified, as was I.
"I'll find a way to take you to the hospital or we can call an ambulance" I said to her.
"No, Manuela. Don't do that!" She groaned in pain after saying that and put her hand on her belly, aiming to ease the pain caused by my dad kicking her.
"Look at your condition, mom. Please. He can't keep doing this to you. To me. To us. For the love of God, please can we go to the hospital at least?" I begged.
"When we get there what do I say to them. How am I suppose to explain how abused I got hurt. I can't, Manuela." My mom, Carla, wouldn't ever leave dad's side.
"Mom, Please! You can't allow him to continue doing what he's doing to you!"
I lifted her shirt and I could see how it was purple and had more bruises from other beat ups from him. Look at you. Look at those wounds. Look." I demanded her. Tears started forming in the corner of my eyes.
I turned around lifted my shirt. My back had beating marks all over. I turned back to my mom and also showed other injuries around my body that I had because of my abusive father. "We've had Enough, mom. Enough of this hell. I can't take it anymore..." I started to cry and she hugged me. "I can't my love". She whispered in my ear.
My mom took her right hand to my hair and ran her fingers through it as she spoke. "He's your father and my husband. I just can't find it in me to turn him in over to the police. He will change. I believe in it. You must also believe; he is part of our family."