Never Again

Sixteen-year-old Dallas Bell sat up in his bed, woken from his sleep just after 11pm on that Wednesday evening. The sound that had woken him was the sound of his father's old, rusted pick-up truck, with its half-dying engine and the loud rock music blaring. He was returning home from "work", as Dallas had been told all these years. Since Dallas was about twelve, his father had never returned home before 11pm each evening. As Dallas got older, he knew that his father wasn't working that late, every day. Two years ago, he'd found out, well he'd figured out, that his father was an alcoholic and went to some bar or another for a few hours after work, each day. He knew that his father had probably cheated on his mother more than once, while he was drunk, as well. But what as a sixteen-year-old going to do with information like that, especially about his own parents. So he kept quiet.

Dallas never got along with his father, not since his younger brother, Marcus, was born, when he was seven. Marcus loved their father, although he didn't get to see him very often. Their mother also loved their father, more than words could say. She did everything for him, since before Dallas could remember. She stayed home all day long, cleaned, did laundry, and had dinner on the table at six, hoping that maybe, possibly, her husband would be home. But he never was.

In the past year, Dallas had discovered something new, something that was beyond his control. Although he had never seen it happen, he was almost positive that his father was hurting his mother. Not hitting her, he didn't think, but hurting her with words. Dallas had over heard his father calling his mother names. Only when he was drunk, of course, but then again, Dallas couldn't really remember what his father was like when he was sober.

But that night seemed to be different. Just minutes after Dallas heard the truck in the driveway, he heard his father enter the house. He heard both of his parents' voices, barely, and then something happened, something smashed, crashed, and made Dallas jump nearly out of his skin. Although his parents fought nearly every night when his father returned home, Dallas had never heard anything being broken. And when, a moment later, he heard his mother scream, he knew it had never been like this before.

~He's drunk again It's time to fight She must've done Something wrong tonight~

Dallas' room was just down the hall from his parents' room. Marcus' room was on the other side of his. But Dallas knew that Marcus was fast asleep and wouldn't be woken up. That boy had always been a deep sleeper.

Dallas got up from where he'd been, in his bed, and walked quietly towards his bedroom door. He began to walk slowly down the hall, thinking his parents were in their bedroom. But another, louder, scream from his mother told him that they were down the other hall, in the living room or kitchen. He walked past their bedroom and continued down the hall, but stopped when he was close enough to hear their voices.

"Don't, Mark, please. let me go." Dallas felt tears in his eyes as he heard his mother's plea.

"Shut up, Beth, don't talk back to me." Dallas could hear his father's slurred words, and could practically smell the alcohol on his breath.

There was silence for a moment and then another cry, as Dallas' mother was shoved into the wall, behind where he was standing.

~The living room Becomes a boxing ring It's time to run When you see him Clenching his hands She's just a woman Never again~

Dallas wanted to call 911. He wanted to run into the living room and scream and yell at his father, and ask him how he could do that to the woman he claimed to love. But, in all honesty, Dallas was, by far, too afraid of his father to do anything. He felt as if he was frozen, his feet stuck to the floor. Finally, after more shouting and crying from the living room, Dallas was able to make it back to his bedroom. He picked up the cordless telephone and dialled 9.1. but was too afraid to finish. He burst into tears, knowing that if his mother was seriously injured, it would be his fault. Again, another scream, and Dallas felt like he was right in the middle of it.

~I hear her scream From down the hall Amazing she can Even talk at all~

That was enough of that for Dallas. He jumped up and practically ran down the long hallway and right into the living room. Both of his parents were shocked to see him, and both froze. Dallas had never seen his father with that much anger in his eyes. All three were silent, no one knowing what to say. Dallas knew not to yell at his father, or he might be the one to get hurt. Breaking the silence, Dallas heard his mother's quiet voice,

"Go back to your room, Dall, please. I'll see you in the morning."

Obeying, Dallas gave his father one last glance, and then turned and walked back down the hall. Tears were pouring down his cheeks. He felt useless. He couldn't stop it, he couldn't tell anyone. He had to lay in his bed and listen to the sound of his father beating his mother for the rest of the night.

~She cries to me Go back to bed I'm terrified That she'll wind up Dead in his hands She's just a woman~

Dallas didn't sleep that night. All he could think about was that it had never been like that before. Sure, his father always seemed to be drunk, sometimes he bossed his mother around and told her what to do, sometimes he called her names and told her he hated her, but, as far as Dallas knew, he'd never laid a hand on her before that night.

~Never again Been there before But not like this Seen it before But not like this Never before have I ever Seen it this bad She's just a woman Never again~

All night long, Dallas cried, hoping and praying that his father would stop before it went too far. Dallas glanced at the clock on the wall at one point, and it read 3:45am. Finally the screams had stopped, there was no sound coming from down the hall. The house was in silence.

The next morning, nine-year-old Marcus woke up his big brother by jumping on his bed. It was the summer, so neither of the boys had school to attend to. Dallas opened his eyes and smiled back at his brother, but soon thought about their mother again. Was she okay? Was she even alive?

"Where's Mom?"

Dallas practically yelled in his brother's face.

"In the kitchen. She's got a boo boo on her face and her arms, she said she fell last night, when she got up to get a drink. It was dark, you know?"

Dallas wasn't happy with his brother's answer, and jumped out of bed and ran to find his mother. He saw her sitting at the kitchen table, head in her hands.

"Mom." Dallas let his voice trail off.

The woman looked up, turning her head to look at her son, and Dallas gasped at the sight of her face. Her left eye was bruised and swollen, and there was a large cut on her top lip. She didn't say a word.

"Mom, you've got to go to the hospital." Dallas informed her right away.

She shook her head "no", and looked away again.

"I can't, Dallas. I don't have any good explanation, and they'll know, they'll just know." His mother finally spoke, but stared at the wall in front of her.

"Maybe they need to know." Dallas replied plainly.

Without another word, he fixed himself a quick breakfast. He went into the living room to eat and watch television. It was half an hour later before another word was spoken.

"Will you come with me?" His mother asked, loud enough for Dallas to hear her, in the next room.

Dallas almost smiled, but couldn't quite let himself. It just didn't feel right to smile.

"Where are you going, Mommy?"

Marcus walked into the kitchen after hearing his mother's question to Dallas.

"I think I might go see a doctor, just to make sure I'm okay. You know, I had a pretty bad wipe out, kiddo." Their mother forced a smile at her youngest son, who giggled and nodded.

"Can I come to?" he wanted to know.

"It would be boring for you, Marcus. We'll drop you off at Taylor's house on our way." Their mother continued.

Taylor Morgan was Marcus' best friend. His mother was good friends with their mother, and had been for years.

"But I'd rather come and be with you, Mommy." Marcus told the woman, whining.

Dallas stood and walked back into the kitchen, "Would you rather be sitting in the waiting room at the boring hospital, or playing 'cops and robbers' at Taylor's house?" Dallas asked his little brother.

"Okay, I'll go to Taylor's!" Marcus finished, and Dallas smiled at his mother. An hour later, Dallas and his mother arrived at the local hospital, after dropping Marcus off. They went to the emergency and then waited for her to be called in. Dallas could tell his mother was nervous. She knew that the nurses and doctors would suspect abuse of some kind. She got called in twenty minutes after they arrived, and Dallas watched his mother follow a nurse down the long hallway.

Inside the room, she waited a few minutes before the doctor came in. She repeated her story to herself over and over in her head. She'd slipped on some water, dripping from the leaky refrigerator, when she had got up during the night to get a drink. She'd smashed her face on the table on her way down, and bruised her arm when she'd hit the floor. It sounded believable to her.

"Mrs. Bell, how are you feeling?" The female doctor stepped into the room, with her first question right away.

"I'm fine, just came in to make sure I couldn't get infections or something, you know." She replied, half smiling.

"Yes, it was a good idea to come in. Would you like to tell me how exactly this all happened?"

~Just tell the nurse You slipped and fell It starts to sting As it starts to swell~

The petite woman took a deep breath before beginning. The doctor could tell she was afraid.

"It's silly, actually, I feel quite stupid. I just got up during the night to get a drink, I didn't bother to turn the lights on, you know." She began, not looking at the doctor, "Our refrigerator, it leaks, and there was a puddle of water on the floor in the kitchen. I slipped, and fell quickly. On my way down, I hit my face, my eye, on the corner of the table, you know."

She decided to leave the part about her bruised arm out, because she was wearing long sleeves, and the doctor couldn't see the bruises, and it might make the situation look worse.

"I see, well, you did some damage. You're going to need a stitch or two on your lip, and I'll prescribe you something for the swelling on your eye." The doctor told her.

The woman sighed, thinking it was easier than she'd thought it would be to get through. The doctor believed every word. She looked up, and, to her surprise, there stood her husband, on the other side of the glass window, staring in. Her heart started pounding.

A moment later, the doctor continued, "Mrs. Bell, are you sure that is how this happened?"

~She looks at you She wants the truth It's right out there In the waiting room With those hands Looking just as sweet as he can~

She didn't know if she should answer quickly. It might look suspicious. She waited and moment and replied, "I'm sure. I feel quite silly for being here over an accident like this."

"Okay, well," the doctor finished, "here is your prescription, and I'll lead you down the hall to where they'll stitch up that lip."

"Thank you." She finished, sighing again.

She stood up, followed the doctor out of the room and stopped in front of her husband. She leaned in and hugged him, nodding slightly that everything was okay.

"I was so worried when I returned home from work this morning and no one was home. Good thing I called Marcus at Taylor's and he told me what had happened, and that you and Dallas were here." Dallas' father, a tall, well- built man, continued the web of lies. His mother just nodded and gave him a kiss.

"I'm just going down to get a few stitches in my lip. Tell Dallas I won't be much longer." She told him, trying to act as real as possible, "You can go back to work, honey."

"Okay, I'll see you when I get home. Love you." He finished, turned, and walked back towards the waiting room.

Those words rang in the woman's ears as she continued to follow the doctor down another hall. Love you. love you.

He didn't love her; there was no way he could. It didn't matter if he had been drunk when it happened, you just don't put someone you love in the hospital. But the woman loved this man more than life itself and could not imagine being without him. At that point, she was willing to risk her life to keep her husband.

In the waiting room, Dallas saw his father walking back towards him. He looked away; he didn't want to make eye contact. He didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to even recognize him as his father.

"Thank you for not.. you know... ..."

Dallas heard the words come from his father's mouth, but didn't recognize the voice. Sure, it was his father, but it wasn't his "dad". He didn't feel like he had a dad.

"Anyways, I realize how you must feel." His father went on.

'No you don't,' Dallas wanted yell, 'you have no idea how I feel. You have no idea that I hate you.'

But Dallas didn't say a word. He didn't even look up.

"Okay, fine, your mother said she just went to get a few stitches in her lip, she won't be much longer. I have to go back to work." His father told him what his mother had asked, and then stood there, staring down at his son. Realizing that his son was not going to speak to him, he sighed and walked away.

"See you at 11pm." Dallas called to his dad, sarcastically, as he watched him walk towards the doors of the hospital.

~Father's a name You haven't earned yet

You're just a child

With a temper

Haven't you heard

"Don't hit a lady"?

Kickin' your ass

Would be a pleasure~

It was half an hour later when Dallas' mother returned to him. They left the hospital and got into the car. Neither spoke, for neither knew what to say. Dallas had a lot to say to his mother, but knew he'd just upset her, so he remained quiet.

"I love you, Dallas."

His mother's words sounded sincere to him, not like those of his father's. Dallas had always admired his mother, and loved her very much.

"I love you, too, Mom. I can't understand why you are taking this from him." Dallas felt confident in his words.

"I love him, Dallas, even if you don't believe it. And." she knew she was about to lie to her son, but she continued, "He loves me, as well."

"How can you say that?" Dallas belted out, but soon realized this was not an argument he wanted to have with his mother, "I'm sorry." He finished.

"I'm sorry you had to see what you saw. That was the worst he's ever been, it won't ever be like that again." She promised him, knowing it wasn't a promise that she could keep.

Dallas nodded, knowing the same thing his mother knew. This was just the beginning. It was the beginning of the end.

The same thing happened, every other night, for the rest of the summer. Marcus was still in the dark about it, but Dallas knew it wouldn't be long until he started to figure something out. It wasn't possible that their mother could be falling every night and hurting herself; getting new bruises every week, and each time, worse than the last.

Every time it happened, Dallas almost called the police, but his love for his mother held him back. He would be betraying her, and he never wanted to do that. She made him promise, after the third or fourth week of the abuse, that he wouldn't involve the police. She said that he never really hurt her bad enough, and that it wasn't worth bothering them. For some reason, Dallas believed her. Well, until the night everything changed.

It was the week before school started up again. Dallas was awake when his father returned home from work, oddly, at nine that evening. He overheard his mother asking his father about the father-son hockey tournament, which Dallas and his father had played in every year since Dallas was ten. It would take place the following weekend, and Dallas' mother wanted to make sure that they still planned to participate that year.

"The kid hasn't talked to me in two months! How do you expect me to play in a hockey tournament with him!"

Dallas heard his father's reply. It was true; he hadn't spoken more than a few words to his father since that first incident. He felt no need to talk to a man who beat up the one who loved him more than anyone else.

"Fine, don't! Ruin our entire reputation in the city! Everyone expects you two to play again!" his mother replied, quite upset.

There hadn't been an "incident" in three days, and Dallas had thought, maybe, it was going to slow down. Maybe his father wasn't getting drunk every day after work anymore, maybe he was growing up.

"I don't care about everyone!" Dallas heard his father scream, "I don't even care about you! I don't care about Dallas, or Marcus, or this family at all! I'd rather be away from you people, somewhere where I'm not screamed at every day by you, and where I'm not ignored everyday by my son!"

~He's drunk again

It's time to fight

The same old shit

Just on a different night~

The house was silent. So, his father was drunk yet again. The cycle would never end, even if it looked as though it would. But Dallas didn't hear his mother's voice reply. He didn't hear anything at all. He slowly walked down the hallway towards the living room, like he had many, many times before. This time seemed different, and it was.

Suddenly he heard his mother's cry, and then she screamed as he tossed her across the room and into the television stand. Pictures frames crashed and smashed into a million pieces on the rug. A glass shelf was knocked by her fall and shattered all around her. Her face was cut as well as her arms and hands. She managed to get up and take a few steps, but he was right there in a second, throwing her back to the ground.

"I'd rather be dead than be your husband for another second."

Dallas didn't hear this remark made by his father, but his mother did. In her mind, it was finally over. She wouldn't ever get beat up again. She wouldn't be thrown around the living room anymore. She put one hand into the front pocket of the apron she had on. She held her hand there for a moment, as if to make sure she was doing the "right" thing.

~She grabs the gun

She's had enough

Tonight she'll find out

How fucking tough

Is this man

Pulls the trigger

As fast as she can~

She raised her hand into the air, holding the gun. She closed her eyes and, before he could speak, or move, she shot him. Just as he hit the ground, Dallas stepped into the living room, after hearing the gunshot. He couldn't believe she'd done it. It was obvious that she couldn't take it anymore. It was the only way to make it end, in her mind at least.

~Never again

Seen it before

But not like this

Been there before

But not like this

Never before

Have I ever

Seen it this bad She's just a woman

Never again~