A/N: Ok... um... This isn't the best thing I've ever written. I probably could have put more detail, more dialogue... But this is based on real events, and I can't remember all the words that were spoken. Just the general idea behind the fights, the emotion, etc. I mostly just wanted to get that out. The basics, I suppose. Maybe I should have made it first person, but I found it easier to write it this way. Especially since this is a very vague telling; this type of thing happened often, so this is the general description of the fights. And the title is stupid, but it's all I can think of at the moment. X.x
For those that are curious... This is just one of the things I went through back home, that I dealt with. I wrote the 'Falling' poem because of situations like this, when I felt myself getting dragged down by all this darkness that was around me. I'm the eldest girl in the story. The event in the story happened rather often, especially through my late junior high/early high school years. Now, also...I'm not writing this or posting it for sympathy or any such thing. I'm not whining or complaining about how horrid my life has been; rather, this is a sort of therapy. By writing about it, I can vent the emotions and show what happened. Also... like a survivor story, letting others know just one of the many horrible things that go on in the lives of others. Not just my life, but the lives of others. And... yeah, I'm very much aware that there are people out there who had worse experiences than this one. I'm not comparing; I'm just sharing my own.
As always. Read. Review. Enjoy.
"Where have you
"I've been at work."
"You're late, Dee. Why are you late."
"Because I had to drive to a house that was on the edge of town, Eric. It takes awhile."
"Bullshit. You were probably out fucking your boyfriend."
The woman's eyes widened slightly before she answered, quietly. "I don't have a boyfriend, Eric."
Four pairs of eyes looked up at this. Four pairs of eyes watched as the arguement broke out between suspicious father and exhausted mother. The youngest pair of eyes were from the only son, a boy that was still very much a child. He looked up from his action figures, of superheroes that made the world safe and just, and watched. His eyes were full of fear and apprehension. The second youngest, a girl of pre-teen years, looked up. She had been doing her homework and watching TV. Her eyes were full of anxiety and fear. Another girl, second oldest and in her early to mid teen years, came out of the kitchen. At hearing the sounds of an oncoming arguement, she'd turned off the stove and was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, a cooking utensil clutched to her chest. There was worry and fear in her eyes. The eldest girl, in her mid teen years, turned from her conversation via the internet. Noticing the arguement, she typed a 'be right back' and watched. The worry and fear was in her eyes as well, but so was a quiet anger and a wary alertness.
The arguement continued, with words of anger flying back and forth between the two parents. The man was strong and furious, throwing hurtful words and accusations at the woman. The woman was trying to back away, not wishing to move this forward, yet not backing down. Her words and actions were defensive, trying to both protect herself from him and make sure she stayed safe this time. It didn't work.
The man was getting more enraged by the minute, his irrational mind firmly believing that his wife was cheating on him. Suddenly, he snapped. His hands, strong and callused from years of construction work, reached out and grabbed the woman's throat. He started strangling, his eyes darkening and taking on a hating, murderous rage. In an instant, the eldest and the youngest girls were up and on him, tugging at his hands. The woman's pale, soft hands, more used to caring for children or delivering food rather than more demanding work, were clutching at the man's hands, trying to free herself. The boy's lip started to tremble and he started sobbing. The daughter that wasn't involved moved over to wrap an arm around him, trying to comfort him through her own tears.
Fists of a child and a teenager rained down upon the strong back of the man. Hands and nails dug into the darkly tanned flesh, trying to pry the hands away. Curses and demands came forth from the older girl, while pleas and cries came from the youngest one. The two girls tried their hardest to remove this monster from their mother. The little boy, finally succumbing to his terror and tears, ran out of the house. The other girl ran after him, hoping to keep him from vanishing into the night. Through combined effort, the girls and their mother somehow managed to push the man off of her. The eldest girl immediately moved between them, facing the man. Her feet were planted in a wide stance, hands in fists, and her eyes were glaring hatred and anger at the man. The youngest girl stepped back. She was ready to help pull her father off of her mother, but to actually confront him was more than she could do. He was still her father, after all.
The man was yelling for the girl to move, and shouting more accusations at the woman. The girl refused and yelled back in the defense of her beloved mother. The man could now only yell at the mother and try to get around the girl. Each attempt was met with the girl stepping in front of him and pushing him back, her eyes burning with her deep loathing for this man. He couldn't do anything to her, and so could only content his unjust anger with yelling at the woman. The youngest girl also added in her own defenses for her mother, but was too afraid to do much more. The boy and the sister that had gone after him had finally returned, with the girl hugging the boy and trying to calm him down.
The man, finally done with the fight, stormed out of the small apartment, the door slamming behind him and shaking the entire place. The woman made her way to her room, to her bed, and sat down on it. Tears streamed down her face and sobs racked her body as she put her face in her hands. The children hesitantely made their way to her. The eldest wrapped an arm around her mother, cradling her head with her other hand. The second eldest did the same, and the two youngest children sat at her feet, hands on her legs, patting and reaching to brush away the tears. They uttered soothing words, reassuring her as best they could. The fight was over, the nightmare gone for now, and the children were doing their best to bring that sweet soft smile back to their mothers face.