He's yelling again. Just like he always does.
"I told you," he spat. "I can't take this anymore. I want out of this place." Then some low grumbling noises and he was off to bed. Mom sighed and went to lie on the couch for a little while. That's when I decided to come out of my hiding place near the washing machine. Mom noticed me creeping over toward the hallway to go back to my bedroom.
"Henry?" I turned around slowly to face her, my eyebrows knit together in sadness and my head cocked slightly in a confused gesture. "Why are you still awake?"
"I couldn't sleep," I answered. I walked over to her and sat on the couch, my little feet dangling over the floor below. Mom sat up and pulled me close to her in a hug, kissing the top of my head. I kept staring at the floor and kicking my legs simultaneously.
"Mommy," I finally said.
"What is it, honey?" she asked when I didn't continue right away.
"Why is Daddy mad?"
Mom sighed and just shook her head. "I don't know, Henry."
"You guys fight a lot."
"I know."
There was silence for a minute or two. Mom stroked my arm and kept hugging me close to her.
"Is Daddy leaving?"
Mom kept quiet as she listened to the sound of Dad getting out of the bed -- a loud squeaky sound as the mattress gave way to his weight. Then the bedroom door flung open with a screech; he had his belt tight in his hand as he came toward me.
"No, Phil, please!" Mom shouted. But Dad struck her with the back of his hand. She gasped and held the side of her face as the sting set in. I screamed and tried to run for my bedroom -- I should have known this was coming. It had happened so many times before. Dad grabbed me by the arm and held me up off the ground, slashing my bare legs with the belt, over and over. I could already feel the welts rising. I was screaming and crying and finally Dad set me down. I plopped to the floor and buried my face in the carpet, shrieking for dear life.
"Shut up," Dad warned. I didn't stop crying. "I said shut up!" He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me off the floor. And that's when he slapped me for the first time. Right through the face. I was horrified. I looked up at him with my big blue eyes and wondered what I had done to deserve this.
"You're going to learn to keep out of my business, boy," he huffed. "Now, go to bed." I looked back at Mom on the couch. She had her face in her hands and her body was shaking. She was crying. I didn't waste time though -- no need to make Dad even more angry with me. I trotted down the hall to my bedroom. I shut the door and wiped my tears away. My brother was still asleep in the crib beside my bed. I went over to check on him and wondered how Dad and I hadn't woke him up. I smiled as I saw his even breathing; he was the only bit of joy I had in my worthless life. I kissed his head and crawled up into my bed, scurrying under the covers. Tomorrow would be just another day I had to put up with; there was no use in looking forward to it. I closed my eyes and was soon fast asleep.