Chapter 4
"Thanks for inviting me. It was a great party." I say as Samantha's dad drives me home. She had generously offered to let me hitch a ride, and as far that I could tell, her dad liked me. "You are welcome, Abel." Samantha beams. "It's not a bad idea to invite him more often." her dad says. "Abel's a nice kid." "Thanks, dad." she giggles. But I am not laughing away. I spot the flashing red-and-blue headlights of the police car right in front of the house, and I know trouble's right on the front lawn. Literally. Samantha's dad halts in time to see a scuffle in the front. Two policemen and some neighbours are trying to pull my brother and mum apart from each other. Dad is lying unconscious , bleeding from a nasty cut on the head. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who did it as the biggest policeman is attempting to pluck the baseball bat from her hand while struggling with this vicious woman. "What happen?" Samantha's dad gasps.
"My mum. That is my family." I say coldly as I step down from the car. "Wait up, I'm coming with you. Samantha, lock up and stay in the car." the 40-year old father says. I don't object but head to the commotion. "What in the heck is going on?" I say quietly, silencing everyone not with the volume of my voice, but with the cold tone that hides anger and disappointment. Then someone speaks. "Dad got drunk." Brandon, my brother says. "Returned home to ask for more money since he blew his pay on horse racing, something mum didn't approve off, so mum hit him. So I called the cops and this is how it is..."
"You shut the f&*K up!" mum screeches in a near demonic voice and swings the bat at him. Brandon dodges rather badly to receive a hit on his arm, but he doesn't cry out. He sends a punch at her in return but the nearest policeman to him jumps out to stop him, only to receive the punch. As the stunned policeman falls back over heels, mum yells like a crazy drunkard with her face all contorted with fury and madness. She knocks the other policeman and lunges for Brandon. "Stop!" I cry as I push Brandon off, only for her murderous hands to grip my neck as she slams into me. The next second is hellish. The grip on my neck becomes as tight as a good Boy Scout knot and my own mother is strangling me, her own son. She's insane from all that stress and public embarrassment of having a rebellious teen and a gambling drunkard of a husband. No, make that the grip of a monster's claws. I can't figure out what is going on about me. I hear screaming, cursing and insulting in twenty different voices, one of which sounds inhuman.
"You useless son! I will kill you with my bare hands! You want to join your f%^king father and brother in hell!" she screams. I can hardly breath as her hands tighten around my throat. I don't have to be a doctor to know that an elongated period of the lack of air intake can be fatal. My head feels like bursting anytime and all I know is pain, pain, pain. Then the hands release me and relief and air washes in before I pass out.
I wake up in the hospital with a collar wrapped about my neck and Samantha seated near the bed with Tom and her concerned father.
Samantha keeps whimpering most of the time as she had never seen such a cruel thing happen to me before. Her dad pats her gently while Tom explains what has gone on so far. Because of the incident, mum and dad divorced in an obviously ugly session at court. Dad tried to hide all his money and assets, whatever that has worth from mum so that she wouldn't get it and become more cruel especially to his kids. But the court put some kind of restraining order that made him pay out half of everything. Worst of all, mum could be jailed for assaulting a police officer plus domestic violence, but some manic hardcore woman's rights organization didn't check all the facts and slammed a lawsuit on the police department, thus forcing the authorities to pass a more lenient sentence: counseling. And from my recent experience, counseling didn't went well with dad anyway. First, he got back on the bottle and then to the racetrack-of horses. So I have zero expectations on the success rate of her 'reforming' sentence. Brandon got sent to Camp Stag, a correctional boot camp for juvenile offenders.
I don't care about women's rights or anything, but if something is wrong then it is wrong. The way my own mum strangled me, I should be put up for adoption, not returned to her to be tormented more.
Of course Tom and Samantha's folks couldn't do anything. Samantha cried all day, but like I said, no one could do anything for me.
I stayed at the hospital for two weeks. On the second last day, she came to talk.
"I'm so sorry for you. I didn't know what you went through every day. Your mum is terrible." she says with tears in her eyes.
"It could have been worse. I could be stone dead if your dad didn't stop her." I say.
"I wish I could do something for you. But the court order and all that..." Samantha starts sobbing.
"I know. It's silly business. But I should be able to survive."
"Dad's trying to talk to lawyers, welfare officers and all that but they keep stalling for time! And in the meantime, you have to go home to a terrible mum." she says. "I can't even let you stay with me."
I don't realise it, but a tear rolls down my cheek. Samantha reaches out and wipes it away before I can say anything. "I don't know how to thank you for trying to help me." I say, my voice cracking up. "This isn't my best, but we'll try to do something. Dad says that it cruel to do it. You could indeed get hurt worse." Samantha says. "I really don't know what else I can do, but can you promise me to hold on and survive until there is a way to help you?"
"I will." I promise, my heart aching and my eyes welling with tears.