An 8-year-old Arthur was peacefully asleep, nestled under his cozy blanket. Rays of sunlight beamed through the window and gently woke him up. The young boy looked around to see the familiar dimensions of his bedroom.
Arthur got up to go check on his mother. He opened her door and saw that she wasn't home. She was usually asleep at this hour.
The child headed into the kitchen. He stood on top of a dining chair to rummage through the cabinet for food.
He made a bowl of cereal and then stepped into the living room. He sat on the floor, directly in front of the TV. Perhaps there was a nice cartoon to watch.
Just as Arthur started to relax, his mother Penny entered the apartment alongside a man he'd never seen before. The stranger couldn't have looked any more irritable, and Arthur could immediately tell something was off.
"Who's this little shit?" the man asked Penny, pointing at Arthur with a beer bottle in his hand.
"That's my son Arthur," she responded.
"You never told me you had a kid!"
"I have told you. Several times. You're just drunk again."
Arthur pondered over what the term "drunk" meant.
The man's tone grew louder. "You think you can just lie to me?" He moved inches within Penny's face.
"Sweetie, just please calm down," she begged.
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" He shoved her to the ground.
At that moment, Arthur wanted to run. But he was completely stunned by what just happened. He couldn't move.
The man looked down at Arthur. "The fuck are you lookin' at? Huh?" he forcefully asked as he walked over to where Arthur stood. "You need to mind your own business!" he yelled at the boy.
The deranged stranger took his beer bottle and smashed it against Arthur's head. The impact of the smash sent brown glass everywhere. Fizzy bubbles slid down the boy's face and into his mouth, followed by the taste of blood.
"Happy," said Penny, "go to your room and don't come out till I say so, okay?"
With no further persuasion needed, Arthur bolted to his room and shut the door. He jumped back into his bed and hid under the covers, visibly shaken.
Muffled shouting was heard among the TV's sounds from the living room. Arthur covered his ears in an attempt to block out everything he heard. Little did he know that there would be many worse things to hear— and see—over the next few years.
A grown-up Arthur laid on the floor of his padded cell. He rolled over onto his side, laughing as this deeply-buried memory reached his consciousness for the first time.