The Letter PLZ READ

Staring at the crumpled up paper in my hands, the words hand written on it didn’t feel real to me. I didn’t want to believe that writer actually meant what he had said. The man had been cruel to me, to my mother. I was too young to understand why he had done what he had, but now I understand clearly what his intentions were. He wanted to feel in control. This man was a drunk. This man is my father.
I thought back to the night that changed our life. The memory wasn’t pleasant, something I rarely thought of. I had had nightmares ever since, one every night, but now it is every so often; I was able to handle the painful thoughts. I thought on the last night I had seen my father.
* * *
By the age of eight he had both mentally and physically damaged my mother and me. On the night of April 5th my mom and I were huddled together on the couch in the family room waiting for his arrival. At around one in the morning my father stumbled in looking half dead. He was drunk all right.
He groped for a chair from under the table and sat. His dark brown hair was a knotted mess, his eyes drooped. His blue flannel shirt had a stain (probably some kind of liquor that missed his mouth he was so drunk) and was unbuttoned at the top showing his bare chest. My mother let go of me and walked silently into the kitchen. With her back turned to me I watched as she firmly put her hand on my fathers shoulder. He looked up, nostrils flaring.
“Please Steven don’t keep doing this. You kill us inside when we see you like this.” She said in a pleading voice.
“I ain’t doin’ anything that would hurt you two,” his words slurred together so it took me minute to make out what he had said. Once I understood I questioned him.
“Do you not see our bruises? Can you not hear us cry? You’re a monster! You—” My fathers began to stand up and I would have continued but my mom cut me off.
“Steven the drinking stops tonight,” her voice was firm and strong, but I knew she didn’t feel that way. We both knew he could kill us in a heart beat. This was the first time she had ever commanded him of something.
His eyes deepened into a glare. He got up towering over my mother. My father kicked back the chair; it made a cracking noise when it hit the wooden floor. My mom flinched then steadied herself.
Out of no where came his hand balled up into a fist. She tried to shield herself with her arms but for as drunk as he was he was fast. He struck down on my moms head. She cried out in pain, it was filled with fear and torture. Next thing I knew she was on the floor, as limp as a doll, and I was on my feet. I ran to my mother, her wavy blonde hair was reddening at her hair line, it was blood.
I looked up and stared at my father horrorstruck. My mouth gaped open.
He turned to me. “What’s wrong can’t take the pain?” his voice was venomous. He smiled, his front tooth chipped from yet another bar fight.
Instinctively I took a step back he just laughed. My father was stronger, faster, and smarter than me and we both knew it.
“Please…” I couldn’t finish. What was I suppose to say? Don’t hurt me? My father fed off our pain and fear. This would only tempt him to cause more physical damage to me.
Tears pooled out of my eyes, I squeezed them shut. I did not want to see his face, his pleasure. I stood there doing nothing but hoping. Hoping I would survive, hoping my
mom would survive, and hoping that he would just get it over with. The reeking smell of vodka came into play. I burned my nose with its strong potent smell.
His hard firm hand grabbed my shoulder forcing me to my knees. The sobs broke free then; there wasn’t any point in hiding it. I knew it was only a matter of seconds till his fist struck me.
“Ahhhhh”
The scream was so easy to decipher. It said ‘Help me I am being tortured to death’. Anyone could make clear what it meant. I was shocked by it even more when I realized it had come from me.
The scream broke free from my lips. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. Never had I nor my mother ever had screamed like that. We crushed our lips together and occasionally a whimper would be released, but never had we screamed loud enough for our neighbors to hear.
His hand struck my jaw; the taste of blood filled my mouth. In that instant I knew it wouldn’t be long until he killed me. I wanted to curl up into a ball and just get it over with, but how could I? I couldn’t just die without a fight; I couldn’t leave my mom alone unconscious and defenseless. I knew that I had to try. What did it matter if I lost? I was going to die anyway.
I opened my eyes, found my ground and got to my feet. I was no longer the girl terrified of her father; I was not going to allow him to kill me so easy, not without a fight.
“What’s ya gonna do Devi?” The way he said my nickname was sweet but deadly at the same time.
I pulled my arm back, balled my hand into a fist. All the anger that I felt toward him built up inside me almost like an adrenaline rush. With all my force I snapped my hand forward hitting him right in the heart.
I never thought of him having a heart. More like an empty black hole that had no end. No end to his torture.
“Aghhhh!” he screamed.
He stumbled backward onto the kitchen table, clamping his hand to his chest. A swarm of curse flew from his wretched mouth.
I knew this was my last chance to get away; I bolted to the door and wrenched it opened. I ran out into the cool Spring breeze, it swirled around me almost pushing me forward. It was as if it was pushing me to safety.
I ran across the lawn and grabbed the fence and used all my strength to hurtle myself over it. When my feet hit the ground I sprinting to the back door of Miss. Moore, my neighbor, I pounded against the door screaming for help. I second later there was no door and I fell to the feet of Miss.Moore.
“What on earth are you doing Devin?” she shrieked.
I looked up to see the short, plump figure of Miss.Moore. She flicked on the light and I saw she had hot pink hair curlers in her short brown hair. She was in her pale pink night gown and white fluffy slippers. Her face clearly read, “What the hell is going on?!” eyes wide with shock, mouth open to form a perfect O.
“Dad drunk, mom unconscious, call police!” I panted.
Miss.Moore didn’t need to be told twice, it was well known in my neighborhood not to go near my dad when he was drunk. She ran into the kitchen and was back twenty seconds later with the phone to her ear.
“She said her mom is unconscious…..Devin are you injured?”
“No,” I didn’t feel my mouth was too important, I’ve had worse.
“No she is fine….Devin is your father still in the house?”
I nodded; if he hadn’t run after me he was probably still inside the house destroying every object he could get his beefy hands on.
“Yes, okay.”
She hung up the phone.
“Devin the police are on their way you need to stay here.”
“But my mom,” I moaned. I pictured her limp body on the floor, she was so defenseless. I was her only hope and I can’t even go and help her, I felt so weak and powerless.
Miss.Moore helped me up over to the couch and made me sit. “Just until the police take care of the situation,” she would say when I complained.
I started to drift in and out of sleep, but I didn’t want to sleep I wanted to know what happened. I lost the fight between the desire to stay awake and the need to sleep. My eyelids grew heavier as the minutes ticked by. I slumped down on the couch and drifted off into a dark sleep
It was dark except for flashes of white, blue, and red lights. It was cold and dreary. I was in a room that made me feels claustrophobic even though I could walk for miles in one direction with out having to come to a halt. I could hear whispers but could not make sense of them. I screamed out loud, it echoed in the distance. Then out of no where a scream came that pierced my heart. My mothers horrific cry of pain.
I awoke with a start. My heart was hammering in my chest and cold sweat was beading on my neck.






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