“Mommy! Make it stop!”
The little girl’s plea fell on deaf ears, as her parents continued to rage at each other, full volume. It was the same scene every weekend. Father came home stinking drunk and Mother railed at him. They said horrible things to each other and once, Mother hurled a heavy, glass ashtray at his head. It broke open a large gash on his temple and she took him to the hospital. The little girl was home alone and peace reigned at last, but only for awhile.
Angry voices shattered the darkness and she woke up with a start. The sounds of vomiting and water running in the tub kept her awake. Just when she started falling asleep once more, loud, panicked shouts filtered through the walls.
“Mommy! Make it stop!”
Father was having yet another nightmare. Mother once told her they were fuelled by memories of his time in mortal combat. “He’s trying to drown them out with alcohol”, she lamented.
It was dawn by then, so the little girl left her bed and went into the kitchen. Grabbed a bowl of cereal and adjourned to the living room to watch cartoons. She knew it would be hours yet, before either one of her parents got up.
Staring at the TV, but, not really seeing, all she could think about was how depressing the rest of the day was going to be. Mother, tearfully complaining about her lot in life and what an awful man she was married to. Father, severely hung over and barely uttering a word, then slinking off to watch the football game.
The little girl so longed for a “normal” life, where parents adored each other and their children, as depicted in sitcoms of the day, like “Leave it to Beaver”. She would have given anything to have parents like that!
This was a rough road for an only child; no siblings to commiserate with, to gain strength from, to share the pain. The little girl was all alone.
Mondays should have brought relief, as she could escape to school. Here was another kind of hell though; thanks to the bullies who taunted and terrorized her. She did have a few friends and Father stayed sober until Friday, which made it all somewhat bearable.
Then, came the weekend , once more.
“Mommy! Make it stop”
© D.D.B. 2013
Don’t we all have some dark memories, buried deep in the recesses of our minds?