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My mother and I were playing chess in the kitchen. She was laughing hard at something I had said after besting her at the game for the first time in my life. We were still talking and laughing when we heard the sound of Dad’s car pulling into the driveway.
Just like that, our blissful moment swiftly came to an end. I could see the fear in my mother’s eyes as Dad approached the front door. He opened it and barged inside. There was something very scary in the way he glared at us both, something evil that left us frozen. We heard the sound of his boots clicking against the floor as he walked toward us and saw the ominous shadow he cast over us. Mom held me tightly, tugging me behind her.
He halted before us without a word, even after she greeted him as politely as she could.
“Rueben,” she said softly, without taking her eyes off the man before her, the man she used to call “husband”. “Go to your room. Now!”
That instant, I took off and rushed upstairs, heading straight to my special hiding spot. It was an opening in the wooden wall in an empty room just across the hallway. I slipped myself in there, as I did every time his cruelty began. Mom used to think that he was possessed by an evil spirit or a demon. However, I believed that he was the one who actually possessed the demon; he was the real evil spirit.
As I squeezed in there with heavy breaths, I could hear Mom’s muffled voice, but I couldn’t make out what it was that she was saying. But it sure seemed like she was doing the usual:begging him to please calm down. My heart was racing faster than a galloping horse.
Soon, they started to argue, their voices growing louder by the second. It was strange because Mom, who rarely stood up to him, was actually arguing and exchanging words. I was impressed by her courage and her bravery, but then again, I knew she had pissed off that demon.
His voice was thunderous when he roared, “How dare you speak to me like this?”
What followed sounded like the bursting of a car tire. He had clearly struck her, as he usually did. The next thing that happened was even more surprising. My mom retaliated with the same energy, striking him back with all her might. I knew she had done that when I heard him hollering,“You bitch! You dare hit me? You are so dead!”
For the next few minutes, I heard the muffled noises of their struggle as they ran around the house, from the kitchen to the living room and probably everywhere else in between. I could tell that he was chasing her.
Soon, the struggles stopped and silence fell. I thought that it was over, but I still waited until a few more minutes had passed before coming out of hiding. Terror struck, I climbed down the steps coldly, unsure of the reason behind the sudden silence.
My jaw dropped in shock and fear overwhelmed me as I stood on the fourth step, frozen in place. I saw the image that would later haunt me every night. My father was standing over my mom’s body motionless body with a kitchen knife buried in her chest. His hands were bloody as he wiped them with his handkerchief.
“Mom?” I called out softly with a shaky voice, my lips trembling at the gruesome sight I beheld.
My father just stood there, flashing an evil smile at me. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Despite being a kid, I knew what it was for someone to be dead, but I didn’t want to believe that Mom was indeed dead.
“Why isn’t she moving?” I dared to ask him. When he didn’t reply, I roared angrily, “What have you done to her, you bastard?”
He smirked at me. “So, you’ve grown into a man overnight, huh? Let’s see how you do in a real fight.” He pointed a finger at me and added, “Your bitch mother finally croaked. And you’re joining her.”
I gasped in fear as he marched toward me. My heart skipped and I ran back upstairs. He quickly caught up with me and grabbed my leg, forcing me down to the steps. I heard my rib crack at that fall. With my foot, I kicked him hard in the groin and used his groan as a window for my escape. I rushed upstairs and hid in my spot. He found the room I’d entered, but couldn’t find me.
His presence was killing me. Fear was coursing through my veins, but I stayed calm without moving so much as a muscle. He paced around the room, daring me to come out and face him like a man. He checked under the bed, but I wasn’t there. He checked the closet and the bathroom, but still couldn’t find me.
He looked in my direction as though he had seen me, but I knew he hadn’t. One sound, though, and he would have caught me. I covered my mouth with both my palms and was sure tocontrol my breaths. From the tiny slit in the wall, I could see him roaming the room like a roaring lion seeking to devour me.
“Okay then, have it your way. Since you’re too scared to face me like the man that you think you are, I am going to burn down this house and you will die like the coward that you are.”
I didn’t think that he would actually do it, but I was wrong. I heard his retreating footsteps, and barely five minutes later, I started to smell smoke. I was choking and wheezing, and it dawned on me that he was not bluffing.
By the time I came out of hiding, the curtains in the room were already on fire. In no time, the house began to burn. Smoke filled my lungs, threatening to choke me to death. I could feel the heat around me as flames crackled, destroying everything in their paths. I ran to Mom’s body and tried to pull her out, but I was too weak.
I knew Mom would want me to save myself, so with a heavy heart, I left her with tears in my eyes. I didn’t even have time to say goodbye. I withdrew the knife from her chest and summoned the courage to run through the flames. In the process, I got burned severely, and I could smell my own skin like a barbecue.
I screamed at the pain but did not slow down, and with all my might I smashed through a window, its glass shattering in the process. Groaning at my wounds, I managed to get on my feet, holding tightly to the hilt of that knife.
My father was loading his trunk with some luggage when I crept up behind him. As he slammed it shut and was about to turn, I drove the knife into his back. He groaned as I pulled it out and repeated the same action in the same spot.
With one swing of his backhand, I was knocked down. But I got back up, determined to end that bastard. I lunged at him after he dropped to his knees, weak and losing blood. The knife pierced through his heart and his eyes widened, with a painful groan escaping his lips.
I stabbed his heart over and over again, watching the life drain out of him. I wanted my eyes to be the last pair he ever saw as he died, and I made sure of that.
“Oh, God, Rueben…” Amelia’s voice is tender. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“It’s fine,” I say to her. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
She reaches out to hold my hand, and despite what I said, the comfort feels nice.
