He was huddled in the corner of the room as the yelling filled the tense air around him, his face pressed firmly against his knees. He didn't dare peek up from his knees and tried his best to block the sounds of his drunken father yelling so violently at his mother, but as hard as he tried they still managed to fill his ears.
"You fuckin whore. I bet you thought I would find out about you and that bastard down the street." That was his favorite thing to call her wasn't it? Whore. The young eight year old cowering in-between the couch and the small black table knew not what the word meant, but he knew it caused his mother pain.
"H-honey, what are you talking about? There is nothing going on between me and David." His mother's soft but frightened voice entered into his ears, she was trying so hard to hide the fear. She knew much like the child that the older, fat bellied man didn't like it. He also didn't like it when he thought she was lying, and he couldn't help but feel as though her words were false.
"Now you're a lying whore! That's okay I know the truth though, I saw you talking to him…" there was a pause as the man took a drink of his beer the glass making a clicking sound as it hit against his teeth. He chugged whatever remained in the bottle quickly and then let his harsh green eyes stare at his wife, "What did you do after you talked to him? Did you go inside his house and fuck him? Huh? Did you let him fuck you?" he took an angry step towards his wife, eyes almost feral in nature.
"I didn't do anything like that…you know I'd never cheat on you. I-I love you too much honey. Why don't you just s-stop drinking and sit down huh? Maybe get some sleep." She had made her first mistake of the evening, she had told him to stop drinking. The sound of his open hand hitting against her face echoed throughout the small run downed house, followed by the sound of her tears.
"Don't you fuckin tell me what to do you slut. I'll drink if I damn well please, and I'll sleep when I damn well please. I only drink so much because of you and your bastard son." His voice rose, more anger filling it then before. "I was going somewhere before you got fuckin pregnant. I was going to be someone big, but then I had to take care of you. Waste my money on you and that fuckin child, and look where we are now? Living in a fuckin dump."
She was shaking now. Her whole body trembling with fear as she looked at him, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean too…" she was going to say something else but she was cut off by her husband.
"Oh you're sorry? Is that going to make everything better? Is that going to make me happy? Is it going to take back the fact you're out sleeping around like a fuckin whore, while I'm here with your idiot of a son? NO IT'S FUCKING NOT!" he hit here again, his fist was closed this time. He hit her so hard that her body fell backward and against the ugly brown coffee table.
The boy in the corner twitched at the sound of his mother hitting the table, of the sound of his father's fist hitting against her face. He had to keep the tears back, he couldn't make a sound…if he did…he'd move onto him next. He didn't want to get hit anymore; he didn't want his mother to be hit anymore. What could he do though? He was just a little eight year old up against a big fat adult.
"Please, p-p-please don't hit me again, I'm so sorry." She cried out, but the large drunkard didn't care. He was too angry, too far lost in haze a to bother listening to her cries anymore. As far as he cared she was a lying whore that had ruined his life, and he was going to take his frustration out on her.
He moved closer to the coffee table and picked her up by her hair, she began to squirm against his hold, tears streaming from her face as she cried out in pain. She knew her son was in the present in the corner she knew he was watching, or at least hearing. She just couldn't say anything, or else he too would be in the path of this dangerous man. As she struggled against his hold his grip on her hair tightened and she fought against it more.
"You make me sick; make my stomach turn I look at you, why I married you I have no idea." He barked as he slammed her against the wooden tabled, the table breaking into pieces as he did so. The woman within his hands cried out in pain, such horrible pain. He could have stopped now, left her alone and done anything else…but he hadn't had his fill just yet. His feet hit against her ribs as he kicked at her, and she could only cry and scream, unable to find the strength to fight against him.
He kept kicking, kept hitting his boots against her rib cage until he saw blood escape from her mouth. He still wasn't happy though, he picked her up again this time his hands gripping tightly around her throat. He pushed against the wall, grip tightening heavily as he looked in her eyes. Would today finally be the day he killed her? Had he finally had enough of her?
"Pl…please s-s-stop." She muttered out as she felt her wind pipes being crushed by the force of his hand, she needed to fight back now. She couldn't let herself die, she needed to protect her son from this man for once she was gone he would ruin him. Finding strength within herself that she didn't know she had, she kicked painfully against his legs. It was enough to throw him off balance and his hold on her neck loosened just enough for her to push him away.
She fell to the floor and began to gasp for air, but had little time to allow herself to recover and began to crawl towards the kitchen. She needed a knife, something to defend herself with against him. He wasn't going to allow her to get away though; he grabbed hold of her leg and began to pull her towards him. She struggled against his hold, kicking at him each kick causing mass amounts of pain to course through her body. "You want to be a tough bitch? You want to be a man? Then I'll treat you like one you little whore." Today was the day that she finally fought back, and it wasn't going to end with her being dying.
The little boy could see it all happening, he had finally worked up the courage to peek up from his knees and examine the events unfolding before his eyes. He was stricken with fear he had no idea what to do as he watched his mother fight for her life, he could only cry. That was until something spoke so vividly within his mind, as if someone was right next to him whispering within his ear.
"Help her; you don't want your mother to die do you? Be brave for once in your pathetic little life; kill the man whose caused you both so much pain."
He didn't know why but he found himself listening to the strange voice as it whispered into his mind, he found his body moving on its own. He stood up and began to make his way towards the kitchen moving as quickly as he could, he rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. A knife, the one thing that he thought would make this all go away.
He rushed back into the living room and his father was on top of his mother hitting her as hard as he could with his fist. The young boy ran up knife readied to go into the man's back, and before he could even do it his father whirled around and backhanded him with enough force to send the boy flying to the side. The boy cried out his whole body aching as he slid across the old wooden floor. The knife sliding towards his mother's beaten body, as his father approached him.
"You little fuckin brat, I'm going to do you just like I did your whore mother. Beat you into a nice bloody pulp." He was so scared now; his whole body was shaking with fear as his father approached him. This would be where he died wouldn't it? A young boy of only eight…killed by his own father such a sad ending to a story that had only just begun. It had seemed that way anyway, but his father had stopped moving. The young child watched as his father's body grew limp and fell to the floor, the knife jetting out from his back. His mother stood bloody and beaten above his father's dead body, her breathing heavy. She looked towards her son and a warm smile crossed her face, "It's all better now sweetie, he won't hurt you anymore. Be a better man than him, be a better person." her was voice was weak. Sadly those words would be the last thing she ever said to her son, as whatever life was still within her faded away. Her body fell to the ground with a thud.
The young boy was alone now. The one who hated him the most and the one who loved him unendingly gone forever, he moved towards his mother's body. His arms draped themselves around his mother's corpse and tears began to stream endlessly from his face, "Mommy! Mommy! Please Mommy comeback to me!" He wanted her back so much right now.