A Broken Home

It happened everyday. Everyday he had to watch and feel the same pain over and over again. There seemed no end to it. At one point he got used to it, he knew that it would never stop. But what he did not know is that with every punch on the face he took or with every belt lash he took on the back or with every cigarette burnt on his palm he became stronger. He became stronger on the inside. Everyday his dad came home drunk. So drunk that he couldn’t even remember his name, but he knew exactly where he lived. So drunk that he couldn’t even stand on his feet but he had enough strength to take his rage out. His mom knew exactly what was going to happen and when it was going to happen and yet she did not do anything because things were different in the morning as his memory was killed by the booze and he promised her that he would never do it again but the only thing he never did was cutting down on the alcohol. He would leave for his minimum wage job in the morning and come back piss drunk, spending what he had earned. She would tuck in her son to bed right before he came. But he would never sleep because the sound of the punches and the tears was making his soul bleed. He knew deep down that he was next. He took all of his frustration out on her. Things weren’t always like this. They fell in love and got married, after 5 years of marriage he realized that beating his wife and kid made him feel good. When his so called dad opened the door, he never closed his eyes, he wanted to look at his eyes, he wanted to look at him with tears in eyes and rage in his heart and he dragged him out of his bed and did what he always did. Beat a 11 year old. But this time, things were a bit different. The sound of his mother’s cries drilled a hole into his heart, a sound that was so familiar. A sound that was more familiar than his own voice. He couldn’t take much more of it. He gathered the courage that his mother could not muster, his courage was fueled by the rage for his father and the love for his mother. He hit back. He punched him with all the strength his 11 year old body could provide and he hit him again and again until his face was covered with tears and this time instead of hiding under his covers, he stood up. His father left home and never returned.

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4 thoughts on “A Broken Home

  1. It takes courage to take a step for someone with whom such strong emotions are attached. But for doing the right thing & standing for the things that are right may God bless all.
    Keep going!
    God bless you!

      1. Thanks to you for spreading awareness about all such very important topics. I really hope it contributes in some way to a positive change in the society.
        If it all my words have inspired you to keep on writing it will be an honor for me.
        keep up the good work you are doing.
        šŸ™‚

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