Why Dad?

I can still remember that night I stopped believing in God. I stopped believing in anyone, that night I realised no one was going to help me and I was alone in the world. 1

I was sat at the top of the stairs, with my back against the cream paint-chipped wall, my feet resting against the opposite wall. I could hear music playing from downstairs, the walls in this terrace council house, as thin as paper, every noise heard, by a few doors down. I could imagine my dad sat in his chair listening to the radio, tapping his foot, singing along, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew the music was playing to drown out the sobs of my mother. I knew the music was playing loudly so thuds of punches hitting home, thuds of her body falling and his swearing, name calling, couldn’t be heard by neighbours. I just sat there; knowing below me my mother was hurt, bleeding, maybe even this time she was dead. I could feel tears start to flood into my eyes, but I blinked them away, no one could see the effect he caused me. 2

My brother’s were in their room playing, not a care in the world. They were only little two, seven and nine, they didn’t understand. For a minute I blocked out visions of my mum and dad fighting and I concentrated on the noises of my brothers, I could hear them making car sounds and train sounds. They were laughing. I longed to sit with them, to play too, but I couldn’t because I knew my mum needed me. She always needed me.3

I crept down the stairs, one at a time, my back pressed against the wall. I had learnt this was the only way to prevent the stairs from creaking. I knew if he heard me coming, I couldn’t help her. Stood in the kitchen, the door to the lounge was wide open, the music was so loud now I couldn’t hear my own heavy breathing. Slowly I walked across the white cold tiled floor towards the door. I automatically tensed my body, braced it for anything, and mentally prepared myself for the worse before stepping in the doorway. 4

My father had his back to me; he was stood over my mum, bent down. Her eyes were shut, I thought she was dead. A burning cigarette hung from his mouth, ash sprinkling onto her swollen face. I stood there just watching for a minute, maybe two, drinking the whole scene in. I knew that this time he had taken it too far, this time she was dead. The walls seemed closed in on my parents, watching, listening for what would happen. The dark grey carpet was stained with fresh blood, stains I would scrub at in the morning. I didn’t dare breathe. I didn’t want to break the angelic silence surrounding her body. 5

The music stopped, I could hear the CD whirring. My dad snapped his head round. His eyes focused on me. Even stood in the distance of the doorway I could see the blood in his eyes, and I could smell the beer on his breath. I watched him stand, regain his full height and his posture. A height of over six foot, over a foot taller than me. Again I tensed my body, waiting for his advance. He walked up to me, bent over, his face an inch away from mine. And spoke, slurred words, “Get out”. Without hesitation I turned and walked back up the stairs. No backward glance at my mother’s corpse, I knew I couldn’t look, I knew he was watching my every move. 6

Sat in my room, on a collapsed single bed, in a plaster walled room I cried. I sobbed for my mother, and I sobbed for myself. I didn’t know what to expect, not any more, but I knew it would be bad. Curled up on top of my bed, I listened to the laughter of my brothers and I listened to the silence below me. 7

I looked up to the sky and I prayed, I prayed like I had never prayed before. God would save me, God would help me. I prayed for my mother’s soul, I prayed she was now an angel. I prayed for my brothers, I prayed that they would be safe, that they would know no harm. And I prayed for my father, I prayed he would be forgiven for this, I prayed that maybe God could make him a nice man, make him a loving man. 8

The sobs subsided and I felt nothing. I felt empty, and I felt alone. My brain was working more than ever, and the fear was eating me whole. I heard noises in the kitchen, running water, pots and pans, happy family noises; then I heard the creak of the bottom stair. I knew it was my dad, I could always tell when it was my dad. I curled my body into a ball, as small as I could. I covered my head with my arms; I knew that if I could protect my head I would live. I could live. My arms pressed against my ears muffled the creaks of the stairs. I didn’t want to hear. 9

I felt the presence in my room, the presence by the side of my bed. I could feel the warmth of his body; I could smell the beer and the cigarettes. I could hear my heart pounding in my head. His hand wrapped around my arm, and he dragged me from the bed with ease. I fell to the floor; my arms fell from my head. He dragged me to my feet, pressed my back against the wall with immense force; I could almost hear my spine snap. I looked into his eyes, looked for love. I saw nothing. The laughing of my brothers had stopped, everything was so quiet. I knew that now he was going to kill me, I was going to die just like my mum. 10

He pulled me to the top of the stairs, stood behind me he whispered, 11

“You weren’t meant to see your mummy like that. You won’t ever see your mummy like that.” 12

His voice sent shivers down my spine and goose bumps were born on my skin. I couldn’t breathe; fear was all I had. I felt a sharp pain in the top of my spine as he pulled my head back with all his strength. Staring at the ceiling I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Looking up I screamed inside, I screamed to God. 13

Then he pushed me. I felt my arm hit the banister, I felt my head hit the stair, then I felt nothing. 14

My whole body ached even before I opened my eyes. My chest hurt, it hurt to breathe. Each intake of breath caused me to writhe in agony. I opened my eyes, not sure what to expect, I saw nothing. I saw the wall of the kitchen, the white tiles, the counter tops. I expected to see blood, but I saw none, just the clean white kitchen. I thought I was dead, in heaven. 15

The pain in my chest caused me to double over, I knew I was alive, there is no pain in heaven. I lifted my head; the house was silent. Struggling to sit up I couldn’t see anything. I was alone. I tried to stand but I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, all I could feel was pain. So I concentrated on the pain, I learnt how to breathe without it, and after five long minutes I was stood. My back leant against the white walls, my head spinning. 16

I heard a cry from the lounge, my mum. I could feel warmth enter my heart, I knew she wasn’t dead. She was alive, and she was inches away. With my weight pressed against the wall I moved painfully slow towards the door. My mum was sat on the floor, her back against the sofa. She looked up and she saw me, tears in her eyes. She whispered my name and whispered, “Come here.” It took what seemed like forever to reach her, but I did and I felt so proud to be sat by her side. I rested my head on her shoulder and she softly stroked my face and hair. I didn’t care about pain, I knew she was alive. 17

For one glorious hour I sat with my mum on the grey carpet and we cried and we smiled. For once in a long time the house was filled with love again. 18

Deep down inside we knew it wouldn’t last, we knew the happiness would end. And it did. My dad came home. He walked into the lounge with a fresh aroma of beer and cigarettes. He was back from the pub. 19

His face was distorted with hatred, his eyes even redder than before. I felt my mum stiffen, she removed her arm from around my aching body. I bowed my head, I couldn’t look, and I couldn’t see what was going to happen. I thought God was on my side, I thought he had saved us from this abuse. 20

I felt my mum dragged from where she was sat, dragged to her feet. I could feel her hurt. I closed my eyes, prepared myself for pain. I had to stand up, I had to help her, and maybe together we could fight him. But my body wouldn’t let me, my chest failed me. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t move. So I sat with my back against the sofa, my head bowed and eyes closed. 21

I can still remember that night I stopped believing in God. I stopped believing in anyone, that night I realised no one was going to help me and I was alone in the world.22