Stay Together for the Kids.

A crash on the wall jolted me awake from my room, it felt like I’d only just fallen asleep. Which were true, I noted as I looked over at the red numbers flashing 2:17 a.m. across the darkened room. Instantly, out of instinct, I drawled my knees up to my chest, pulling the covers with it and wrapped my arms around them then buried my face into my black comforter that still covered my legs. They were fighting again. I could hear their muffled yelling through my bedroom wall and the occasional slam of items being thrown across the room. Dad had probably only just come home, drunk again I’m sure, and mom had probably called him out on it again.

I wasn’t aware I was crying until the wetness soaked through my comforter onto my thighs. Quickly I raised my head up and wiped my cheeks frantically, silent sobs still racking my body as I tried to wipe away the tears that were still falling. Their argument now becoming louder and the words harder to ignore, I tuned in. My mother screaming to him how pathetic he was, never being around with his family and my dad quickly shot back with how she wasn’t fit to be a mother, always asking her family to take care of her kids and already having two sons by a different man.

I winced inwardly as I heard the shard sound of a slap. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks again and I felt a pain inside my chest that was all too familiar. It was like my heart was literally being squeezed so tight that every vein in my body ached, right down to my fingertips. The pit of my stomach filled with dread and I choked out a loud sob, now frantically swiping at my cheeks once more. I almost knew the slap had been delivered to my mother, dad didn’t like to have the last word but he did like to have the last hit and his anger boiled sometimes so bad that he had to throw things or hit something just to give in to his rage.

Now convinced it had been him to hit her, I heard my mother start sobbing loudly and I silently cried along with her. The argument in the other room had gone quiet, all except for my mother’s cries and dad’s hushed words. I was almost sure he was at her side, cradling her against his chest and whispering sweetly his empty apologies, blaming his actions on the alcohol and promising her it wouldn’t happen again.

It was all too familiar. I knew these arguments like the back of my hand; I knew this ache and this pain all too well. I looked back at the clock on my dresser, the red numbers now flashed 2:59 a.m., I had listened to them fighting for almost an hour, and I had sat sobbing into my hands for almost an hour. My body ached from the exhaustion of it all and I longed for sleep, but I didn’t want to go. I wanted to sneak a look out my door and make sure my mother was okay.

But no one had left the room yet. I feared the worse until I heard the door to their bedroom open. Quickly I lay back down, rolling around on my stomach with my back facing my own door, making sure to poke a leg out from under the cover like I’d been asleep the whole time. Light flooded my room soon after I’d situated myself on the bed and I heard a quiet sniffle, it was my mother. At least she was okay. I let out a soft sigh and snuggled against my pillow before she shut the door behind her. My eyes closed and I felt hot tears streak back down them and my body shook slightly from my silent sobs as I cried myself back to a restless, deep sleep that I’d became used to.