Sequel: My Father, My Brother ›
Lullaby And Goodnight
Nightmare
I curled tighter into my ball as he pounded me again. The cold wind whipping at us both only infuriated him further. My lack of a responce to his brutal beatings egging him on, but I was sick of letting him win. He didn't see the tears rolling silently down my pale cheeks. All he wanted was to get a good scream from me, but my dad wasn't going to win this time. His huge leather belt slashed my bare sides again, making a sickening slapping sound that cracked through the air. I groaned as quitely as possible as my dad yelled obscenities at me. The sand I was curled up on wat scratching my bare flesh and most likely causing me to bleed. This was just a family holiday like any other. Dad would take us all for a walk on the beach at night, then beat me to a pulp for some 'crime' or another. This time, my crime was laughing too loud. My brother Mikey was yelling at dad to stop, but dad didn't listen to him. Dad never beat him much, only if I was out of reach. I finally cried out in agony as my side litterally split, staining the sand below me.
My dad finally stopped his vicious attack, panting hard. He pushed his way past my brother to my mom who was cowering away a few feet away from the violent scene. Mikey crouched down beside me and stroked my arm softly as I sobbed into the gritty sand. He wasn't allowed to hug me, then he'd get a kick. When the horrendous pain had subsided enough for me to stand, Mikey helped me to my feet, holding me steady as I limped and wimpered across the beach after my parents. That beating was pretty mild, compared to the usual stuff my dad throws at me anyway. I was struggling to breath as most of the beatings were near my chest and I was holding my breath for quite a long time there to stop my screams. If I screamed, people would hear, and report, dad would be questioned, I would be beaten to a pulp and dad would say I fell or me and Mikey were fighting or something.
That was another of dad's 'games' when we were younger. He never let us resolve anything calmly, we had to fight it out. If we didn't fight properly, we wouldn't get a meal for two days and we'd have to sleep standing in the shower. When we were younger, we used to live in a lime green tin house that the council had provided us. It had stained wooden floors and I had a problem with wetting the bed when I was younger but mom never changed the sheets, nothing was EVER washed. So, I was always sleeping in a wet and smelly bed. My whole life style wasn't much better. We didn't have a washer, a drier or money so even the dishes remained unwashed. Mom once spit washed them, but dad slapped her for it so she never dared do it again. When Mikey turned one, the council provided us a bigger house, but not much better. The cleaning style remained the same and I still wet the bed. Mikey's diper was NEVER changed. When I was four, I had examined a diper and thought I could change one. I didn't want my baby brother in the same diper for months on end. When my parents when out and left us alone, I changed Mikey's diper. There were even maggots in there. I was litterally sick, but still cleaned him up and put on a fresh diper. I was only four and had successfully changed my baby brother's diper.
But soon enough my dad found the dirty diper and litterally shoved my head in it. The smell and the discust of it all filled my nose and mouth. I was four years old. When I was five, dad took us to a farm. He lifted me up and placed me in a field with cows in it. At first I thought it was great. A big, furry animal that makes milk is a wonder to a five year old boy. But dad knew about the bull in that field. The one that charged me and cut me to pieces for going near the cows. I'v been afraid of cows and bulls since. I was a five year old boy, covered in my own blood and my own father laughing as he watched me dying. Luckily a farmer saved me. I remember the day I realised, mommy wasn't going to save me. She used to do certain things like take me to the bathroom with her and make me sit leaning back against her legs just so dad couldn't kill me while she wasn't around, but dad still caught on to the fact she was trying to rebel against him in some way and soon stopped me from going anywhere he wasn't going around the house. Except the bathroom of course, but he did follow me in a few times when I was small.
Dad never let me out. He used to say it was because of the danger of the streets, with the drugs and the murders, but I soon came to realise it was because of the neighbours noticing the various bruises over my small and battered body. We didn't used to be like this, we used to be a happy family. My mom used to be my hero and dad was super man. Things were great till mikey turned six months old. The day after a very stressful family portrait. The one I was clutching in my hands the day we left home.
I sat bolt upright with an icy cold sweat dripping off my naked torso as my mind replayed the nightmare of childhood memories. I shuddered at my hatred for cows. I pushed off my covers and climbed out of bed. I gasped as I tripped and fell onto the wooden floor. I looked at the dark lump I had falled over, that was groaning.
"Mikey?!" My brother sat up from his spot on my floor and looked at me guiltyly. I stood up and flicked the light on.
"Sorry. I got scared and came into your room. You seemed to be having nightmares too." I looked at the ground and recalled the beating again, my arm wrapping protectively around myself without me realising. I sat beside Mikey and told him about the dream. He nodded understandingly and smiled as I agreed to let him stay in my room. He snuggled on one side of my single bed as I went for a pee, the sole reason I got out of bed in the first place, before climbing in beside him. We froze in our conversation as we heard a low singing. Mikey's cell phone.
"Go get it before it wakes everyone up." I commanded before Mikey jumped to my command obediently. I heard him answer right before he came back into my room, closing the plain wooden door behind him. He wimpered and stopped dead as the voice on the other end of the line replied. I looked at him confused and he pressed the loudspeaker button.
"Word on the street is your both back in New Jersey. I'm still after you. I'll soon know where you both are. I'm coming for you. And once I find you, you wont live to see another day." I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding in a terrified scream as Mikey slammed the phone shut. Helena rushed in, closely followed by mom and dad as they fussed and questioned us about our latest encounter with our biological father. Mikey explained what happened hysterically. I stared wide, but blank eyed at the phone that lay on the floor beside my bed. I think I'm going to die. Everything was going so well, things were getting back on track, and just as we find our happily ever after, dad comes back into the picture.
My dad finally stopped his vicious attack, panting hard. He pushed his way past my brother to my mom who was cowering away a few feet away from the violent scene. Mikey crouched down beside me and stroked my arm softly as I sobbed into the gritty sand. He wasn't allowed to hug me, then he'd get a kick. When the horrendous pain had subsided enough for me to stand, Mikey helped me to my feet, holding me steady as I limped and wimpered across the beach after my parents. That beating was pretty mild, compared to the usual stuff my dad throws at me anyway. I was struggling to breath as most of the beatings were near my chest and I was holding my breath for quite a long time there to stop my screams. If I screamed, people would hear, and report, dad would be questioned, I would be beaten to a pulp and dad would say I fell or me and Mikey were fighting or something.
That was another of dad's 'games' when we were younger. He never let us resolve anything calmly, we had to fight it out. If we didn't fight properly, we wouldn't get a meal for two days and we'd have to sleep standing in the shower. When we were younger, we used to live in a lime green tin house that the council had provided us. It had stained wooden floors and I had a problem with wetting the bed when I was younger but mom never changed the sheets, nothing was EVER washed. So, I was always sleeping in a wet and smelly bed. My whole life style wasn't much better. We didn't have a washer, a drier or money so even the dishes remained unwashed. Mom once spit washed them, but dad slapped her for it so she never dared do it again. When Mikey turned one, the council provided us a bigger house, but not much better. The cleaning style remained the same and I still wet the bed. Mikey's diper was NEVER changed. When I was four, I had examined a diper and thought I could change one. I didn't want my baby brother in the same diper for months on end. When my parents when out and left us alone, I changed Mikey's diper. There were even maggots in there. I was litterally sick, but still cleaned him up and put on a fresh diper. I was only four and had successfully changed my baby brother's diper.
But soon enough my dad found the dirty diper and litterally shoved my head in it. The smell and the discust of it all filled my nose and mouth. I was four years old. When I was five, dad took us to a farm. He lifted me up and placed me in a field with cows in it. At first I thought it was great. A big, furry animal that makes milk is a wonder to a five year old boy. But dad knew about the bull in that field. The one that charged me and cut me to pieces for going near the cows. I'v been afraid of cows and bulls since. I was a five year old boy, covered in my own blood and my own father laughing as he watched me dying. Luckily a farmer saved me. I remember the day I realised, mommy wasn't going to save me. She used to do certain things like take me to the bathroom with her and make me sit leaning back against her legs just so dad couldn't kill me while she wasn't around, but dad still caught on to the fact she was trying to rebel against him in some way and soon stopped me from going anywhere he wasn't going around the house. Except the bathroom of course, but he did follow me in a few times when I was small.
Dad never let me out. He used to say it was because of the danger of the streets, with the drugs and the murders, but I soon came to realise it was because of the neighbours noticing the various bruises over my small and battered body. We didn't used to be like this, we used to be a happy family. My mom used to be my hero and dad was super man. Things were great till mikey turned six months old. The day after a very stressful family portrait. The one I was clutching in my hands the day we left home.
I sat bolt upright with an icy cold sweat dripping off my naked torso as my mind replayed the nightmare of childhood memories. I shuddered at my hatred for cows. I pushed off my covers and climbed out of bed. I gasped as I tripped and fell onto the wooden floor. I looked at the dark lump I had falled over, that was groaning.
"Mikey?!" My brother sat up from his spot on my floor and looked at me guiltyly. I stood up and flicked the light on.
"Sorry. I got scared and came into your room. You seemed to be having nightmares too." I looked at the ground and recalled the beating again, my arm wrapping protectively around myself without me realising. I sat beside Mikey and told him about the dream. He nodded understandingly and smiled as I agreed to let him stay in my room. He snuggled on one side of my single bed as I went for a pee, the sole reason I got out of bed in the first place, before climbing in beside him. We froze in our conversation as we heard a low singing. Mikey's cell phone.
"Go get it before it wakes everyone up." I commanded before Mikey jumped to my command obediently. I heard him answer right before he came back into my room, closing the plain wooden door behind him. He wimpered and stopped dead as the voice on the other end of the line replied. I looked at him confused and he pressed the loudspeaker button.
"Word on the street is your both back in New Jersey. I'm still after you. I'll soon know where you both are. I'm coming for you. And once I find you, you wont live to see another day." I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding in a terrified scream as Mikey slammed the phone shut. Helena rushed in, closely followed by mom and dad as they fussed and questioned us about our latest encounter with our biological father. Mikey explained what happened hysterically. I stared wide, but blank eyed at the phone that lay on the floor beside my bed. I think I'm going to die. Everything was going so well, things were getting back on track, and just as we find our happily ever after, dad comes back into the picture.
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