Disclaimer: I don't own them, don't sue me.
Author's Note: This is shown through the father's view of Dave's abuse. It takes place approximately when Dave is eight or nine.The next chapter will be shown through his mother's point of view. Then maybe his brother's, I'm not sure. I lack the ability to think that far into the future. I want to make it very clear that I'm not advocating abuse in any way, shape or form. If you or someone you know are being abused, call 1-800-422-4453.
--
I work everyday. I love my kids but they just get in the way sometimes, and I unintentionally hurt them sometimes. But they need to suck it up and learn to deal with the fact that life isn't always going to be 'The Brady Bunch'. I finely got home after a ten-hour shift and all I want to do is to watch the football game on TV. I bring in all the money; I deserve to watch my game. As soon as I get in my chair, Dave comes around, being disruptive.
"Shut up!" I yell, trying to hear the TV.
"Sorry, Daddy." He replies.
I go back to watching the game and a few minutes later he's making noise. Before I can tell him to shut up I hear a crash of glass breaking. The stupid little bastard broke my ashtray. He's always doing stuff like that. I have no choice. I get up, my fingers clenched in fists, and try to calmly walk over to him. He starts mumbling something about being sorry and he'll never do it again. He always does it again. Before I can think straight, I hit him upside the head and he's on the floor, crying like a little bitch. To get him to stop crying, I kick him in the stomach a couple of times. Then resume watching my game.
"What the hell did you do, Roy?" My whore-of-a-wife asks me.
"He broke the ashtray, I taught him a lesson."
She looks at me like I'm lying. She drags him off into the kitchen to clean him up. I can finally get some peace to watch my game. A while later, she sends Dave off to bed and my game's over. I walk over to her in the kitchen, wrap my arms around her waist and begin to kiss her neck. She shrugs me off and steps away.
"What the hell is your problem?" I ask.
"My problem? Ask your son! Why do you always treat him this way?"
"You stupid bitch."
I slap her as hard as I can across her right cheek. She remains standing, holding her swollen, red cheek. She tries to say something but gives up.
"Huh? Come on, you know you're useless without me. You and that stupid son of yours."
"He's your son, too."
"How do you even know? You've been fucking so many guys, I have a one in two-hundred chance it's mine."
"I never cheated on you, you cheated on me."
"How dare you accuse me, you stupid-whore!"
I grab whatever I can find, which happens to be a frying pan, and hit her on the head. She falls to the ground in the fetal position. My anger overwhelms why body, I don't want to hurt her but she deserves it.
"I-I'm sorry, baby." I apologize.
I scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. I set her down on the bed and cover her up. She's trembling so I put on the extra blankets from the bedroom closet. I retrieve some ice from the freezer and gently place it on her head. I crawl on the other side of her, and fall asleep in our little house on Garden Street.
--
I know it's short, but it's short and sweet so deal with it. R/R!
Author's Note: This is shown through the father's view of Dave's abuse. It takes place approximately when Dave is eight or nine.The next chapter will be shown through his mother's point of view. Then maybe his brother's, I'm not sure. I lack the ability to think that far into the future. I want to make it very clear that I'm not advocating abuse in any way, shape or form. If you or someone you know are being abused, call 1-800-422-4453.
--
I work everyday. I love my kids but they just get in the way sometimes, and I unintentionally hurt them sometimes. But they need to suck it up and learn to deal with the fact that life isn't always going to be 'The Brady Bunch'. I finely got home after a ten-hour shift and all I want to do is to watch the football game on TV. I bring in all the money; I deserve to watch my game. As soon as I get in my chair, Dave comes around, being disruptive.
"Shut up!" I yell, trying to hear the TV.
"Sorry, Daddy." He replies.
I go back to watching the game and a few minutes later he's making noise. Before I can tell him to shut up I hear a crash of glass breaking. The stupid little bastard broke my ashtray. He's always doing stuff like that. I have no choice. I get up, my fingers clenched in fists, and try to calmly walk over to him. He starts mumbling something about being sorry and he'll never do it again. He always does it again. Before I can think straight, I hit him upside the head and he's on the floor, crying like a little bitch. To get him to stop crying, I kick him in the stomach a couple of times. Then resume watching my game.
"What the hell did you do, Roy?" My whore-of-a-wife asks me.
"He broke the ashtray, I taught him a lesson."
She looks at me like I'm lying. She drags him off into the kitchen to clean him up. I can finally get some peace to watch my game. A while later, she sends Dave off to bed and my game's over. I walk over to her in the kitchen, wrap my arms around her waist and begin to kiss her neck. She shrugs me off and steps away.
"What the hell is your problem?" I ask.
"My problem? Ask your son! Why do you always treat him this way?"
"You stupid bitch."
I slap her as hard as I can across her right cheek. She remains standing, holding her swollen, red cheek. She tries to say something but gives up.
"Huh? Come on, you know you're useless without me. You and that stupid son of yours."
"He's your son, too."
"How do you even know? You've been fucking so many guys, I have a one in two-hundred chance it's mine."
"I never cheated on you, you cheated on me."
"How dare you accuse me, you stupid-whore!"
I grab whatever I can find, which happens to be a frying pan, and hit her on the head. She falls to the ground in the fetal position. My anger overwhelms why body, I don't want to hurt her but she deserves it.
"I-I'm sorry, baby." I apologize.
I scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. I set her down on the bed and cover her up. She's trembling so I put on the extra blankets from the bedroom closet. I retrieve some ice from the freezer and gently place it on her head. I crawl on the other side of her, and fall asleep in our little house on Garden Street.
--
I know it's short, but it's short and sweet so deal with it. R/R!