Here's a small story dedicated to child and domestic abuse, something I wrote a few years ago. It has no names, and it will stay that way. I'm slightly hesitant in putting it up, but some need to know the dangers of repetitive abuse, and the effect on the victim. Please, if you are a victim of domestic or child abuse, call your local authorities. It doesn't have to happen.

Stepping through the door was not the first mistake she had ever made, regarding others. No, her first mistake was not running away when she had the chance. When it started, she was not surprised, nor was she confused as to why. He was angry, there was no doubt about it. But having a rampage when a door was accidentally slammed was a bit excessive, and it was expressed in the frightened eyes of those that watched on in silence, the bond of family ensuring their silence.

The first time it happened, she was five years of age. She had been running around outside barefoot; her feet were filthy and the hem of her blue dress was dirty. She ran in, beaming around at her family, the last of the daylight illuminating the garden behind her. Accidentally, she slammed the door, running for her mother, dark hair bouncing with each step.

Suddenly she was flying through the air, and her joyous face turned into one of confusion, alarm. She hit the tiled floor with a hard thud, unable to do much more than gasp for breath. Her eyes filled with tears, but before she could let them go, a large hand came down and swatted her across the face. Her head jerked to the side, into the tiles again, and she could feel blood beginning to seep its way into her mouth. She looked up, shocked. Her father stood over her, his stern face frowning.

He reached down for her as she began to let her tears flow and slapped her across the face again. There was silence as two other pairs of eyes looked on, sensing that they should stay out of whatever was going on.

“Go to your room. Cry again and I’ll give you something to really cry about.” He ordered, still standing over her as she ran for the stairs. Suddenly he was behind her, and delivered a kick to her rear end. She squealed in surprise and ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. She didn’t eat that night.

As she reflected back on her younger self with dry humour, her brother entered the room behind her. Her father was gone, but it didn’t mean that his methods of punishment were. She knew that she was somehow in trouble, but could not remember exactly what she had done. Maybe it was that she was too slow in getting dinner to the table the night before? Maybe it was because she was home before he was? She heard him snort and leave the room. She allowed herself to give a tiny sigh, and closed her eyes. She was safe for now.

The blow to the side of the head was completely unexpected, and she went reeling across the room, eyes snapping open in surprise.

“What was that for?” She asked angrily, eyes accusing. He sneered at her, a strange light behind his chocolate brown eyes. She knew what it was for; she was simply his punching bag, the one that he could actually control. He gave no response, but moved forward and swung his fists again, connecting with her throat, her stomach. She reeled backwards again and ran as best as she could towards someplace she could hide.

Diving into the study was possibly not the best of choices, but she could brace the door with herself, should he decide he really wanted to hurt her. She slammed the door shut in his face and listened to him rage outside the door. Tears slowly slipped out, but she brushed them away angrily, then slapped herself across the face. The sting of her hit stopped the tears, but not the smashing on the door.

The last violent hit threw her off the door, making her crash into the opposite wall. She was already seeing stars as he began to hit her anyplace he could, screaming at the world and its injustices.

She screamed wordlessly, trying to ward off the painful contact of skin on skin, stopping only when she was winded suddenly by an uppercut to the throat.

After a while she couldn’t feel anything, and welcomed the change, the noise fading in her ears. Her eyes closed and she slumped fully onto the floor, her brother still punching her mercilessly. It was fully dark when he stopped, panting for breath. He sneered at her broken body that lay on the floor, convinced that she would get up and be ready for round two.

It was obvious that at least three of her ribs were smashed in, puncturing internal organs due to the dribble of blood that fell from her numb lips. Her arms also were broken to stop her fighting back, and her left leg in case she tried to kick him away. Her eyes were closed, the purplish hue of bruising already beginning it’s way across her strong but delicate looking features.

He staggered off in search for his drumsticks, intent on working off his anger now that his favourite punching bag was busy being unconscious. Sneering, he cranked up the stereo and began to drum, his time completely off.

It was only when the neighbours called the police that he stopped, answering the door in a huff. His face narrowed in suspicion as he let them into the house, letting them look around before drawing their attention back to himself, not before one noticed a splash of red on the ash grey leather couch frame. Ignoring the protests of the younger male, he continued until he could stare down the corridor at the broken body of the youngest in the household.

He let his eyes close for a moment before turning around to face his partner who also showed a grim face. His partner turned on the younger male, arresting him as the older cop called up the homicide squad, all the while staring at the broken body of a girl who refused to report her abuse. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. They saw these things all the time, why did it always have to be the ones that were too scared to pull out, or bound by family ties?

His partner pulled him out of his trance, casting a worried glance over at the body further down the corridor. He shook his head, glad that his own girls were safe.

In the meanwhile, the girl looked down on herself, floating serenely on the non existent air currents. She let herself smile for the first time in years, and closed her eyes, finally letting go of the fear that had dominated her life, and felt herself disintegrate into nothing.

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