A child tears

A Childs Tears
By: Nicole Conde


Lacy grew up as the daughter of an abused mother, the
daughter of an abuser, and now she is presently the stepdaughter to a
battered woman. The things she saw as a young child scared her brain
with shrilling memories forever. Nights her heart pounded so hard she
thought it would just pop right out of her chest. The feeling of an
uneasy shake threw her whole body. Scared for her mother's death, she
would spend endless nights with her ear to the floor wondering if they
were fighting. Or if it was just plain laughter, but there was rarely
laughter in her home? she would cry all the time and wish that after
the fights were over, her mother would still be alive. Never did she
picture in her young childhood that her mother would be put threw a
wall, or thrown out of a moving car, but as always she was proven
wrong. As a child she was forced to grow up fast. She acted as a mother
to her younger sister. Always protecting her from the "unknown", from
the abuse. She used to have this theory that if she told my "daddy" to
stop he would. If she tugged on his pants and cried he would just stop.
She would put her self-right between her fearful mother and ragging
father. She was stupid huh?
Lacy remembers up from when she was 5 years old. Her mother would be
busy during the day dragging her sister and her along where ever she
went.
They'd do normal day things like any other normal family. But when it
was time to come home and cook dinner all hell broke lose. She
remembers being afraid. Being afraid all the time. Her mother would get
weary around 4:30, her father would come home at 5:00 and they would
never know what kind of mood he was going to be in. She remembers all
threw the day her and her mom would crack jokes, about her fathers mood
hoping that it would be a good one. All the while knowing deep in their
soul that these jokes weren't really funny at all, but ways to elevate
some of the fear and pain. All the jokes stopped around 4:30 each
day.
Lacey's father was Robert Dematina. He was an Italian man, dark hair,
around 6-foot. He was very much intimidating. He was a big massive guy,
over weight, who ate pasta and pizza, and spoke of times in Brooklyn.
He would act as if he were "connected" in the mob. Lacy soon found out
as everyone always did what a big talker Robert actually was. Robert
never had a steady job. Though he let people believe he did. He was the
"boss" of his own contracting company. "Of course he made the big
money", "always drove the fancy cars, had the fancy house, threw the
fancy parties." But no one saw the times when Robert was down. When he
didn't have a penny to his name. Everyone always saw the good? The good
was easier to believe?
Robert was obsessed with his mother. His mother was his "god". Gave him
all the answers. If his mother said jump of a bridge, he would go get a
life vest and jump. His mother's name was Tonella, and his father was
Roberto. Nothing Tonella said was wrong in her "sons" eyes. As much as
Robert was obsessed with his mother, his mother was obsessed with him,
maybe even a little more considering that was her child. Tonella also
had a second child named Daniella. Daniella always was trying to win
over her mother's affection. Her mother always favored Robert, and
Daniella knew it. She spent her whole life trying to become equal next
to her brother. But she never did. Robert was "the one and only" to
Tonella. Roberto, Roberts's father was a frightening man. He would
never give anything to a "conversation". Always listened, never spoke.
He would be the one at the head of the dinner table, just listing. It
was kind of spooky in a way, how quite he could be. He was just waiting
to lash out, waiting for the right time to pin someone. So much anger
was locked up inside of Roberto that he was actually dangerous. Years
before, Lacey's mother had a conversation with Robert about his father.
It was then, and then only, that Robert did confess to his father's
brutal acts of violence. Roberto beat his wife constantly, and abused
Robert in ways a normal human being would never think of.
Lacey's mother always said, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree",
and in this instance she was right.
Lacey's mothers' name was Laura. Laura was a kind-hearted person. Was
never selfish, never once thought about herself, always reached out for
the one in need. Laura was a person of dignity, had a warm soul. She
was a 21-year-old girl of hope, and love. Always wanted to get married
and start a family. Never once questioned Robert about his love for
her. In her own way Laura was running. Running from her home. Running
from her family. She never felt as she was equal to her other three
brothers and sisters. She felt as though she were a loner, wanting to
get free. Well, in doing so she broke away from her family and ran
right into the devils arms, where she would never see the light of day
again. Little did Laura know that her friends, family, and life as she
knew it would be demolished forever.
When Laura met Robert, she was immediately, swept right off her feet.
Robert had all the charm and good looks that made Laura fall. He had
the "money" and the family compassion that Laura was looking for.
Robert did show signs of abuse after about six months, but Laura was to
sucked in to realize it. She always made excuses for his screw ups or
blamed herself for his blowups. It was never Laura's
fault.


6 years later, Lacy is now 5 years of age


One of the most remarkable events for Lacy between her and
her sister Amy, was when she hid her sister in a clock?
It was around 5:00 and Lacy and her mother were busy bustling around,
knowing full well that Robert would be home any minute from work. Lacy
would make herself sick worrying whether her father would be in a good
mood. Her mother was cooking rice pudding, which she knew Robert loved.
She thought that by doing things he loved, it would put him in a better
mood and he would see how much Laura really loved him. It didn't matter
what Laura did it was never enough. So, Lacy was playing with her
sister upstairs in their playroom. All of a sudden she heard the
screaming. Her father was not in a good mood that night. She opened her
door and heard her mother crying. She ran down the stairs, her sister
behind her. She took her sister and told her to hide in the clock until
she came to get her. Amy listened to Lacy, and loved her, so she got
into the clock and closed the door. Amy was only 3. Lacy then ran to
her mother's aid. She saw what was happening and just kept shouting
over and over again, "daddy please stop, stop it, mommy will listen,
please, we can talk it over daddy, just please stop, daddy I will talk
to her daddy, stop it daddy." Lacey's father the screamed at her and
told her to leave the room, as he had Laura's hair by his fist.
Grabbing it so that her whole neck was twisted back over the stove. He
then took the pot of rice and poured it over Laura's head. His words
before he left the room were, " You filthy animal, you deserve
everything you get, you are a lazy piece of shit". Lacy just stared in
fear that her father would do something more, she reached out and ran
to her mother after her father left and hugged her so tight? After the
incident she had forgotten that her sister was in the clock, she went
to open the door, and Amy looked like a baby who had just woken up from
a dead sleep. I was glad that I had saved her from the harsh reality of
our life that night.
To this day Amy never really knew the abuse that when on in her own
home. She was too little to remember. In a way that makes Amy a
stronger person, but Lacy wishes that there were incidences that Amy
did remember so that she wont get close to someone like her father
Robert. Amy was a beautiful baby girl. She was so innocent and
untouched by the whole situation. To this day Lacy and Amy are as close
as ever. They have been threw so much together. They are like
in-sepraetable twins. They love each other very much. Lacy watches out
for her baby sister each and everyday?
Lacy never really slept at night. She was always so scared for her
mother. Lacy felt as if she were the one who was going to save her
mother. She felt that if she did sleep and something happened she would
never be able to forgive herself for not being up, to try to stop it.
One specific afternoon, Lacy was coming up the stairs to her room,
hearing her parents fight, she entered the doorway. All of a sudden she
saw her mother go flying across the room. Like a rag doll, as if her
mother had no weight on her what so ever. Lacy watched her mother go
straight threw her bedroom wall. That night Lacy was fearful being only
6 that people were going to come out of her wall and grab her. It
seemed like ages Lacy had a hole in her wall. And finally one day out
of nowhere her father came up to fix it, like if was just a wall that
had seeped in for no apparent reason. He didn't act as if he had just
thrown her mother threw it, he acted as if it were a normal hole that
he as fixing. That's what astonished Lacy the most. Her fathers way of
"forgetting" or making light of something that was so horrific, in
Lacey's heart.


Lacey's Story?


She ran down the stairs looking for a spot to hide. My father
was chasing after her. I ran in front of my mother, scared I would get
caught in the fire. I turned around to look at her face. She was
holding my sister and she just looked hopeless. She needed help but she
had no where to run. My father came flying down the stairs. He looked
as if he were possessed. His eyes were red and bulged out with anger,
and he couldn't see straight. He had a target, and that was my mother.
He took my sister and threw her down the stairs. Then he started
continually punching my mother. Punch after punch after punch.
Screaming at her. She cowered down helpless in a corner, crying and
looking at me. A glaze came over my eyes. I watched as she just kept
flinching from each blow my father made. "You bitch, you'll never get
away" he said. " I'm all you have, your nothing with out me". Those
words cut my mother so deep in heart. She wanted to get free, wanted to
save Amy and me but had no idea how to start.
My father left her there, crying and slammed the basement door. Then we
heard a click. He locked us in! He locked us in the basement! As hard
as we could we banged on the door pleading he would let us out. We fell
asleep in the basement that night, and when I awoke the door was open.
Where was my mother? I started to get scared. I walked up the stairs
and found my mother sitting in the kitchen. Bruises on her face. She
just sat there, crying softly. Never once looking at me. My father had
left for work.
It was December 6th 1995 my mother had just tucked me and my sister in
to bed. I fell asleep after a couple of minutes. The next thing I knew
I was up again. It was still dark. I heard my mother crying pleading
for her life. At first I thought my father was home, but then I
remembered he was on business trip. It sounded as if she were in the
closet next to my bedroom. " Please, Robert I'll hide, please don't
kill me, please." Then her words where muffled and I heard something
about a gun. I was scared out of my mind. I remembered my father had a
gun?.
I got out of bed and listened at the door. My mother got off the phone.
And I heard her crying. Later on I must have fell back to sleep. I woke
up remembering what had happened the night before. I ran out of my room
hoping my mother wasn't lying on the floor dead. I was hoping and
praying as I searched for her. I ran down the stairs and found her. She
was lying in the living room sprawled out on the coach sleeping. She
was sleeping thank god. I prayed and prayed to the lord that day,
thanking him for my mother's life. As I watched her being only 6 I
remember her face. She was so safe in her sleep. She was so peaceful
and calmed. I wanted her to stay sleeping forever. Then I saw my father
come around the corner, as much as I hated him for what he did I still
felt in my heart love for him. Feeling that he was hopeless, feeling he
didn't mean to do it. Some monster had taken over him and made him do
these terrible things. He couldn't have planed this. Could he? As I
grew older I found my self-making my father more and more responsible
for what he did to mother and me. I guess in a way eventually there was
no love, just pity on my father. Pity and sorrow for him.
As my father came down the hall my mother awoke. Like an alarm clock.
How did she know he was coming? She looked so peaceful in her sleep.
And she just popped up as he turned the hallway? As she sat up, he
turned to her and said " get out of my sight" and took his glass of
orange juice and went down in the basement and slammed the door. He
made it her fault. It wasn't her fault! She did nothing but love him.
Love him unconditionally! How could he do that! Was he not human at
all?
That night my father went out. He stayed out late on Thursdays. He
would make sure my mother was home when he went out. When ever he went
out. My mother wasn't aloud to have friends. She wasn't aloud out
unless he told her she could. And mother and me figured he had a
girlfriend. My mother didn't care though, as long as he wasn't home to
hurt her. As long as my mother didn't care I didn't care either. The
nights my father wasn't home my mother would clean up the kitchen after
dinner and light all the candles in the house. I remember she put my
sister to bed and she turned on soft music. The music seemed like and
angel had entered the house. So calming and gentle. Like nothing could
hurt us as long as the music kept playing. My mother would dance with
me in her arms, slowly just dancing to the soft music. She would sing
the words to me and tell me everything would be ok. She wanted so much
for me to think everything was ok. But I knew it wasn't. I knew my
mother had to get out.
That night my father called late waking us all up. He was in a bad mood
again. He had been drinking a lot. He must have said something to my
mother because we got dressed and left the house at 12:00 am very
quickly. We drove to my uncle's house, where we thought we could hide.
We couldn't hide there for long. My father was after us. He called my
uncle house screaming. With what felt like 5 min, was really only a
couple of seconds, he was at my uncles house. We were so scared. My
uncle stalled him at the front door as we exited the back. Hiding
behind furniture and things to get to the bathroom, and crawl out the
window. We got into my aunt's car and she drove us to her parent's
house. As we drove away I felt empty inside. It was the feeling of a
bug fluttering around in my stomach. I couldn't breathe, and felt all
tense and shaky. I was extremely frightened that night. I was scared
for so many people. My mother and my sister. But even more scared for
my uncle. He was left alone with my father. Alone with the demon. Alone
with the person I feared more then anyone in my life. My uncle wasn't a
big man. My father could have easily punched him unconscious. Why he
didn't I will never know. I will never know why my father did what he
did. All I knew that night is that it hit my mother. She had to get
out. We left for Texas the next day.
We had only the cloths on our back and the money in my mother's purse
to get us to Texas. We got to the airport and my mother bought us
little outfits with her credit card, so we could at least feel a little
better. I will never forget the outfits. They were denim skirts and
shirts with one little red boot on the shirt. My sister and me looked
like twins. It was kind of cool and made me forget just for a short
while. It made me feel like a little kid just for a second. Having all
the people in the airport cooing at us and say how cute we were. It was
a cool thing, but it only lasted a couple minutes. Then reality hit
home again when I stared out of the plane window as we left New
York.
We got to Texas and my uncle was there to greet us. We went back to his
house and stayed there for a week. Then my father figured out where we
were and kept trying to call and make up with my mother. Promising all
kinds of things and telling her how much he's really did love her. When
she refused to come home, my father got angry. That's when my mother
got scared and we said our good byes and went back on a plane to New
York. I don't know what made my mother leave Texas, I didn't understand
why she stayed with my father. I used to write her notes all the time
telling her to leave. But she never did. She just put them all in a
box?
We drove in the driveway. I saw my father for the first time in a week
and half. He didn't look the slightest bit excited we were back. He was
eating Oreo cookies I remember and he just gave my mother a nasty
snarled kind of a look and we went inside. He told her she was "done"
and that it was over between them. But I learned as years went one that
was my father's way of keeping control over the situation. The next day
my mother received roses that said he was sorry?
Days passed and my parents kept fighting. My mother's head kept
hitting counter tops, and drawers. My father always went for my
mother's head. I came to the theory he did this because the head
bruises weren't visible under hair? I don't know? One particular time
my mother called the cops on my father. (This was nothing new. She
always called the cops. The cops knew us very well, and were friends
with my mom and me.) Well, anyway she called the cops and my
grandparents living, right down the street (literally) came over. I
will never forget as they handcuffed my father and he left the house,
my grandmother stood there yelling at my mother, "why didn't you call
me, why? I could have fixed it, what is wrong with you, you hore, you
had to call the cops? Huh you had to?". My grandmother always protected
my father, no matter what, but I guess that in away it was her child.
She would tell him he did nothing wrong?
My father would get out of jail the next day, because my grandparents
would always bail him out. The present for that fight was Connecticut.
My father told us we all needed a vacation? We went on his boat. He
always had a boat. Ever since I was born. He loved to fish and he loved
boating.
One particular night we were on the boat and he choked my mother so
hard that I thought she was going to just collapse form lack of oxygen,
he slapped her a couple of times. I tried to tell him to stop, like I
always did, but only this time he slapped me across the face. I cried.
My father had hurt me. He had hurt my mother before but now he had hurt
me. That night is when I felt nothing for my father. It was gone. Any
dignity or self-respect I had for him was gone. No love or caring
towards him. I did love my father. I had to he was my father. He lost
his right to his daughter that night with just one slap? he lost his
right in my heart? My mother took my sister and me off the boat that
night and we left in my mother car. We drove home, and I cried, I cried
with my mother?
The last time my parents were together was the night he tried to slam
my mother's head in to a brick wall. I think what made her fight back
was my sister and me. Just staring hopeless wanting to help?He had her
head in his grip ready to slam it into the wall and some how some way
she got out. She broke free! She was free! I wanted to scream it out so
loud that day, but couldn't. I felt like I was a bird and could go
anywhere I wanted. We were free She was done. It was over. My father
didn't know it though. He wanted to go get ice cream after the fight
was over. He made us get our coats on and leave with him and my mother.
We got to the ice-cream place and my father got out of the car, he made
my sister go with him and they went into the parlor. My mother saw a
payphone right in front of our car. It was like God came and put that
phone they're just for us. My mother got out of the car and called the
police. My father had no idea what was going on. When we got home, the
cops where already there. My mothers picked up my sister and held my
hand, and we walked to our front door. As we walked away I heard my
mother say " Its over Robert, We're finished". Those words, to here my
mother say were so remarkable and so "freeing". I can't explain
them.
I sat on my steps watching as my father was arrested, my mother was
crying, but it was a relief kind of a cry. My sister just stared. Its
the only thing to this day that my sister remembered. She never
remembered the abuse, but she remembers him being carried away. I will
never be able to explain the feeling I felt that day, it was so deep so
happy. We just sat there staring in silent I felt like I had an angel
right next to me, like I had a light over me and my family, it was
over?
My father didn't see us the rest of that year. My mother went threw all
kinds of custody suites, and legal battles. I realized then that the
law wasn't what I thought it was. There weren't a bunch of big police
officers waiting for you. Being your big bodyguards. The legal system
turned out to be the complete opposite. I hated them with all my might.
How could they let my father see us? How could they have let him off
the hook? How could they ruin our lives? No matter how much I
questioned it, It had happened. I had to go back. My mother didn't she
was legally divorced now, but I had to go back. My sister and me had to
go back. That day was the worst day for me in my inter life. The
thought of going back to the demon, with out my mother to protect me.
All by myself I had to deal with him. I called out to god to help and
to come protect me. I asked him to send me an angel so that I would be
kept safe?
The first time I saw my father again, he was with a women. She was a
woman who I had never seen before. A women who now had become his wife.
She had long curly hair, and ripped jeans. She was very nice, and kind.
She didn't know what she was getting her self into. She had no
clue.
My new stepmother had never experienced the things that had gone on
before her time in my fathers life. I started to see the patterns after
I had been going to my fathers for over a month. He would scream and
they would fight. He would pull on her hair and her arms. He would get
in her face and push her, and put her down. That's when I new I was
entering world war2.
I would see my father every other weekend. Each Friday before I had to
go I would cry to my mother, begging her not to send me. But she had.
She had no choice. I would spend weekends with my father and he would
then drop me off on Mondays at school. I would be a total mess. I would
be in the guidance office the hole day. I would miss so much with my
friends and teachers. I never had the chance to be the kid everyone
else was able to be. I always had to be older. I always had to be
strong. I didn't want to be strong anymore.
Threw the years I grew closer and closer with my stepmother. I would
beg her to leave too, just like I did with my mother. I tried to save
her. I tried so hard. I loved her as if she were my blood. My father
would tell me to not stick by him because she wasn't my blood. She was
a stranger. He didn't understand. My stepmother was like my second
mother at my father's house. She dressed me and feed me and took care
of me. She had her faults but she was a normal person just like anyone
else. My father ruined her.
My father would fight behind closed doors. He would beat her up. She
would scream. It felt like every time I heard her scream it was as if
it was my mother behind the door. I wanted to help, but now being older
I didn't try to stop it. I was too afraid to get involved. Afraid he
would hurt me. My stepmother tried to have baby later in the years. She
had many miscarriages before she had my brother Nicholas. It wasn't her
fault that she had miscarriages, if you had someone punching your
stomach when you were pregnant you'd loose the baby too. My father
killed many of my brothers and sisters.
My stepmother had my brother in the year of 2001. My brother was the
most precious thing in the world to me. My brother and my sister were
like angels sent from heaven. I can't explain the love I have for my
brother Nicholas. He is the only thing that kept me going at my
father's house. I would feed him, change him, and help him fall asleep.
I would sit by is cradle rocking him to sleep at night. I would sleep
on the floor of his room every night at my fathers. He had the cutes
little smile, he loved me so much. When he would hug me it felt like he
would never let go. He would smile at me not knowing anything that was
going on. He was perfect. He was innocent. He was a gift. A gift to me
from god. To this day he is the only thing that I stay for. I knew that
I could always count on him. He didn't ask to be born into hell. I
never wanted him to come out like me. Never having a childhood, always
being afraid for his mother. I wanted him to have a perfect life. I
wanted him to be a normal child. Now looking at the whole situation he
will be worse then I ever was. I cant save him. I cried so long the
night I figured out that I cant save my baby brothers life?
Three weeks before Nicholas's christening, my stepmother was beat up
again by my father. On Valentines Day, she went to the town drug store
to buy some candy for my brother my sister and me. She also bought
diapers, and formula. My father came home and saw the bill.
My stepmother had been breast feeding my brother when my father came up
stairs and with the back of a knife, just kept jabbing her. Over and
over and over again. He gave her a black eye instead of roses that year
for Valentines Day.
Three weeks before the christening of my brother He beat up my
stepmother once more. He ran after her and slammed their bedroom door.
He punched her so hard that he gave her a broken nose and blood flew
all over there bedroom. For Nicholas party my stepmother had a crooked
nose and two black eyes.
Years passed, I didn't see my father on and off each year. One
particular weekend, we were in Montauk. We were eating dinner, and my
father had been drinking. He wasn't in a good mood from the start. My
sister and me were fighting. I asked if we could go feed the ducks
outside. My father allowed it and gave my sister and me some bread.
Once we were out there I finished my share of bread quickly. As normal
sisters fight so did Amy and me. I grabbed some bread from her and she
started winning. I just continued on feeding the ducks. All of a sudden
I saw my father coming out side. He was head straight for me. Like I
was a red target. I will never forget his face. Red bulged out eyes,
like a monster. I don't remember what made me but I backed up. I kept
backing up, step after step after step. Until I had no where step into
but the water. I was afraid to jump in and then I turned around and my
father grabbed the back of my shirt and carried me all the way back to
the restaurant. The way he carried me was so that I couldn't touch the
floor, and the tips of my feet glided over the dock. I felt as if I was
being choked. I couldn't breathe and I kept trying to gasp for air.
Finally we got back to the restaurant and I thought the worst was over.
I ate my dinner in silences crying to my self, wishing I were with my
mother.
Soon my diner was gone and my sister had to go to the bathroom. She
wanted me to go with her but I didn't want to. My father then forced me
to take her. I gave him a look and got up and walked away. We must have
been in the bathroom for 5 minutes at the most. My sister was washing
her hands, and I had the door a little open I peeked out, just for
curiosity why I waited for Amy to be finished, and I saw my father. I
quickly closed the door. I told Amy that dad was out side and I made a
face to Amy. I said " I really want to go home", she just smiled and
said "me to Lacy, me to". Then we went to walk out and before I could
blink an eye, my father grabbed me by the throat and carried me out to
the parking lot. There he proceeded to throw me up against the car and
scream at me. I don't remember what he said. It just seemed as if he
was throwing random words at me, screaming as high as he could. A blur
came over me and all of a sudden I felt something seeping down my leg.
I peed my pants? I was so scared I peed my pants. My father told me to
get in the car and I went to sleep when we got back to the boat. I
remembered what my mother had done a couple of times when she had marks
on her body. I took pictures of the hand print on my neck and then I
went to bed. That was the last time I was at my fathers for a while. I
pressed charges, and I got an order of protection against him.
12:36 am February 8 2004


He's a big man, he weighs about 200 pounds, I can't handle
him, and I only weigh 102 my self? I'm sorry you have to come out so
late I know you have better things to do, people to save. I wouldn't
have called you but my kids are up stairs sleeping and I am afraid that
he might kill me. I think I need an ambulance, but just get here first.
I want him out of the house?. He sleeping know? he's passed out he has
drinking to much."


I grew up as the daughter of an abused mother, the daughter
of an abuser, and now am presently the stepdaughter to a battered
woman. The things I saw as a young child scared my brain with shrilling
memories forever. Nights my heart pounded so hard I thought it would
just pop right out of my chest. The feeling of an uneasy shake threw my
whole body. Scared for my mothers death I would spend endless nights
with my ear to the floor wondering if they were fighting or if it was
just plain laughter, but there was rarely laughter in my home? I would
cry all the time and wish that after the fights were over, my mother
would still be alive. Never did I picture in my young childhood that my
mother would be put threw a wall, or thrown out of a moving car, but as
always I was proven wrong. As a child I was forced to grow up fast. I
used to have this theory that if I told my "daddy" to stop he would. If
I tugged on his pants and cried he would just stop. I would put my self
right between my fearful mother and ragging father. I was stupid
huh?
The years went by, cops came to our house every other weekend, or when
money was tight, my father had a new company every year, I would go
from one school to the next, weather it be catholic or public, and then
my mother finally called it quiets. She divorced my father in the year
of 96' after seven years of being battered. My father later remarried
and continued his patterns with his new wife, now my stepmother. My
stepmother would never call the cops, feeling very strong in her self
she would try to talk back to my dad, that just gave her two black eyes
instead of one. Finally my dad had gone to far and pushed my stepmother
too far. She finally called the police and pressed charges on my
father. Later that year she got back with him and had a baby boy, now
my stepbrother. The beating went on and on after that, not for any
reason but his dinner was cold, or his socks weren't dry, or she spent
too much money in the local drug store? My father had gotten away with
it, but then once again pushed my stepmother to far, and now she had a
son to look after?


12:15 am February 8 2003


"Don't come in my room" I heard my stepmother say as she
slammed the door to her bedroom. Then with my eye lids half open I sat
up straight and turned to my sister who was already sitting up straight
looking to me for the answer with her eyes as big as golf balls. I
looked at my baby brother who was sleeping, and then I turned my eyes
and saw my father RUN after my stepmother into the bedroom and shut the
door. He shut the door? the worst case of abuse to me in the world? the
unknown sight? the ability to hear but not see is the worst thing I
have ever experienced. I found threw my child hood it hurt more then
physically being hit, by my father.
At this moment I felt as if my stomach was going to come out of my
mouth, and my body might brake in half from the pounding of my heart. I
heard my stepmother scream. As I listened to the shrilling pain of my
stepmother being beat up, it sounded as big cement 4 by four bricks
were being thrown at the wall. A shrilling cry, "you're hurting me,
please oh my god, please you're hurting me, and cries of pain and fear
followed every bang. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up you fucking bitch" my
father screamed.
Two minutes later silence was heard and my parent's door opened. I hid
under the covers so no one would know I was up. Then I heard the door
slam once more. Finally after another two minutes the door slammed for
good and out comes my stepmother. She then proceeded to shut every
single light in the house except one in the kitchen.
My sister and me looked up at each other. Questioning what just
happened, and why everything was silent after such and episode. All of
a sudden I heard my stepmother dialing the phone. She only dialed three
digits? It was then that I realized she had dialed 911. My dad had hit
her all the time but never did she call the cops!
I went down stairs. It was dark. Then I came to the corner, where I
saw my stepmother unlock the front door. She refilled my brother's
bottle and saw me lingering. She then handed me the bottle and told my
sister and me took my brother upstairs and close the door. She told us
not to come out of the room. It was then when I saw her face. Her face
was all blue on one side. It looked as if she had holes in her face. It
was disgusting. I later realized that she was severely bruised and she
might even have internal injuries. The holes that I thought were in her
face had always been there. She was emaciated, because of all the abuse
she had been threw. The only reason why it looked as if she had holes
in her face was because the bruised blue color in her face brought it
out.
As we headed up our stairs, I heard her dial the phone once more. I
sent my brother and sister into the bedroom, and lightly closed the
door. I silently sat out side by the stairs and listened. "He's a big
man, he weighs about 200 pounds, I can't handle him, I only weigh 102
my self? I'm sorry you have to come out so late I know you have better
things to do, people to save. I wouldn't have called you but my kids
are up stairs sleeping and I am afraid that he might kill me. I think I
need an ambulance, but just get here first. I want him out of the
house?. He sleeping know? he's passed out he has drinking to much."
Then she started to head towards the front door. "The police are at the
wrong house, oh god, there at the wrong house". Then all of a sudden
seven cop cars sped down the road into our driveway, flashing lights
and all. All the cops proceeded to our front door and my stepmother
showed them to the kitchen. There she proceeded to tell her story. I
listened on the back staircase silently, in the pitch-black
darkness.
A cop asked her " what started the fight." My stepmother replied in a
"numb way", "what ever starts the fights. I didn't love him enough, or
he thinks I don't love him, or a slammed a door any thing starts
them.
At that point my stepmother had lowered her voice. I didn't hear what
she said, but some how got to the part in the story with what actually
happened. She she was walking up the stairs and he grabbed her by the
back of the ankle and pulled her down the stairs. She managed to get
out of his grip and run to the top step. "He then grabbed me and threw
me off the banister where I landed on the tile floor. I flew literally
between the chandler and the clock. I grabbed on to the clock to break
my fall. (The banister was 15 feet high) Then my stepmother grew
silently once more and I couldn't hear what she was saying. The next
thing I heard was I got to the hallway, told him to not come in my room
and slammed my bedroom door. He then came in the room and followed me
into the closet. He threw me on to the granite floor, and slammed my
head down on the tile floor I don't know how many times. Pined, I was
helpless. He kept telling me t shut up. He then retired to his bed. I
slipped out of the room when he was asleep and called the police. I was
scared that my kids would wake up and find me died lying on the
bathroom floor. I was sure he would kill me. The police listened to her
story and wrote it down. Then they sent her upstairs into our room
because they were now ready to arrest my father, who had slept threw
the entire thing. I saw the police come up the stairs, as they climbed
the stairs they pulled out bars, I guess incase he resisted. They
entered the room and turned on the light.
I saw my father's reaction when the police had explained what had
happened. He looked surprised and "bummed" he had to get out of bed. At
that moment I had to make a decision, I think it was the bravest
dissuasion I have ever had to make in my life so far. I had to decide
if I wanted my father to see my face when he was brought out of the
house.
I decided yes! Yes, I wasn't afraid of him; I was going to show him my
face. I wanted him to know that I knew what had happened and that it
wasn't acceptable, and that later he couldn't cover it up with a
lie.
My father was arrested on February 8 2004 at 12:45 am.


Fifteen hundred American women are murder by husbands or
boyfriends each year. A third of all women's injuries coming in to
emergency rooms are no accident. Most are the results of deliberated,
premeditated acts of violence. And frequently they occur over and over
until the women are killed. Thirty four percent of women homicide
victims over the age of 15 are killed by their husbands, ex-husbands or
boyfriends. Approximately two thirds of reported domestic violence
incidents are classified as "simple assaults," which is a misdemeanor
rather then a felony. But up to 50 percent of these "simple assaults"
result in physical injuries that are as, or more serious then 9 percent
of all rapes, robberies, and aggravated assaults. Women ages 20 to 30,
and increasingly, adolescent girls are of the greatest risk. Battered
women increase their risk of murder when they try to escape. 1/3 of
American women report being physically or sexually abused by a husband
or boyfriend at some point in their life. For more information of
domestic violence you can contact the national domestic violence
hotline at: 1-800-799-safe (7233) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)