The boy would never be believed, how could he be in this day and age. Children often perceive things incorrectly, nightmares out of shadows, monsters under the bed. The boy must simply misunderstand. Anything else would be unbelievable.
The boy is five years old. He sits on a Naugahyde armchair. Tears are streaming from his eyes like a leaky faucet. The boy does not know why he is being yelled at, does not know what he has done. His face twisted with rage, He is screaming at the boy that it is all his fault,” If you had never been born I would be somebody by now, I would not have had to quit school!” The diatribe goes on for what seems like eternity, and it is here that the boy learns how to hate himself.
The boy is going fishing with Him. He never goes anywhere, but this is a special occasion, the boy is six now. He is always working, so much so that the boy does not see him, barely knows him, except for church. She insists that everyone goes to church; even He will not disobey Her on this point. The boy is excited; He lets the boy use His best reel. It is 1976 and even though Martin Luther King is long gone, racism is not. The boy catches a 12” bass, the legal limit is 13”. The fish is still on the hook, barely out of the water. A game warden that does not want them on “his” lake anyway, writes Him a ticket for breaking the law. He vows never to take the boy fishing again; the boy is only bad luck.
The boy was not sleepy; they should have made him go outside to play. After fifteen minutes of a nap he did not want, the boy goes to ask if he can go outside to play. They are having sex. The boy instantly understands. They catch him. She tells him they are making a child, a brother for the boy. She says the brother will be something they chose to have, a child they could love. The boy understands far more than She intended to convey.
The company has left, the night was lots of fun for a seven year old, all his friends were there, and he did nothing for which She could complain. “Wash all the dishes and then go to bed, and they better be cleaned to my satisfaction” She tells the boy. She goes to bed; after all, it is late. The boy tries and tries but the food will not come off, he cannot get the dishes clean. He changes the water repeatedly. Finally asleep up to his arms in suds he reasons that he can get up before She does and finish them, after they soak all night. The boy toddles off to bed. During the night She awakens, checks the dishes; she does not like what she sees. A sharp pain awakens the boy. Repeatedly he is stuck, on his legs, his back, his face, the belt leaving welts every place it kisses him. “I told you to wash the dishes!”
The boy is curious, he has seen matches before, but has never struck one himself. The boy’s cousins dare him to strike the match, and only being eight the boy does not consider all the dangers or consequences. The match is struck, it makes a funny smell; the boy does not remember matches having a smell. She smells it, she know what it is. “What is going on in here?” They all are afraid, the boy is sick with fear. They all lie; She allows them, She knows they are lying. Then one by one, the cousins tell on the boy. There is school tomorrow so she is careful to direct her blows to those places that will not show a mark in public. The boy will have a permanent scar from this, and sitting is not possible the rest of the day. They boy cries himself to sleep on his stomach.
The boy is sick of the abuse, nine years is nine too many. He hates his life and everyone in it. He would run away if he could think of a way to do so and get away with it. No one ever believes him, no one cares, She is too good at hiding the truth. He does not care. If the boy cannot run away, he will kill himself. The boy goes to the medicine cabinet and takes too much of everything he finds in it. Finally, the boy will know peace.
The boy wakes up with a sour, bitter taste in his mouth. They take the boy to therapy; They want to know why the boy would do such a thing. It is simply unbelievable.
Your posts here are so compelling, honest, thought-provoking. I just wanted you to know that I read and connect — though it’s difficult for me to come up with a concise comment. Hello. (waves.)
Thanks Lori-Lyn I wave back at you 🙂