social. He simply replied that his friends were busy and he was fine staying home, locked in his room listening to music, though still able to hear what was happening on the other side of his door.
The truth was that he stayed home as her protector. He felt responsible for her well-being. Hank couldn’t be trusted, and there was no reason to believe that, if the house caught fire, Hank would get anyone out other than himself. Jamie even suspected that his father had been cheating on his mother. Who in their right mind would be as happy as he is to go to work? In a factory? Who in their right mind would want to have an affair with him? Still, the boy was sure there was some ulterior motive to Hank’s pleasantries when he had been called in on his days off.
Jamie hated his father. He often relished the idea of killing the man, but always came to the conclusion that he didn’t have it in him. They didn’t own a gun, and he wasn’t strong enough to take him out himself; his father was three times his size. Even if he were able, he didn’t really think he could go through with it. I’m not a killer . So he prayed for an unfortunate accident, or that maybe Hank would cross the wrong person. Either way, he always felt powerless to do anything about it. So he retreated to his bedroom, just like any other day, listening to his music, just like any other day. But today wasn’t going to be like any other day.
Suddenly, Jamie heard plates and glasses breaking in the kitchen, and rushed to the scene to check on his mom. There he found Angel lying on the kitchen floor, covered in glass. Hank stood over her, a broken picture frame lying on the counter, evidence that the man had slammed his wife’s head into it.
“Come on, get up bitch, you good for nothing woman!”
As she started to stand, Jamie ran over to help her up.
“Don’t touch her!” yelled Hank, pushing the boy to the side.
“Leave him alone, Hank,” cried Angel. “You take it out on me, not him.”
“Yeah, stand up, and I’ll take it out on you,” he said.
Jamie tried again to reach in and help his mom up, only to be knocked farther back with more force than the first time.
“Touch her again and you’re next, boy.”
Angel jumped up between her husband and son.
“No, he’s not! He’s done nothing to you,” she said.
“Mom, please,” Jamie pleaded. “Let’s go, let’s get outta here.”
“Go? Where the hell you gonna go?” asked Hank. “Where you gonna go that I won’t find you?”
Hank shoved his wife into the kitchen counter, grabbing her by the hair, and dragged her across the floor. Jamie watched in horror, afraid for her life, afraid for his life, and afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop his dad. Finally, he spoke without thinking.
“Hey, why don’t you be a real man and stop beating on a woman?” he said.
Hank dropped Angel to the floor. He turned, smiling, looking at Jamie, his eyes like two black holes, like there was nothing there, devoid of all life and light. Hank laughed as he walked across the kitchen to the trembling boy.
“This has been a long time comin’, hasn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you to man up. You been slinking ‘round here like some kind of scared animal,” Hank said. “Now I’m gonna teach you how to take a beating.”
Angel picked herself up and ran over, grabbing Hank from behind, trying to pull him away from her son. With little effort, Hank threw her back onto the floor, giving her a swift kick to the stomach. Jamie lunged at his father, striking him on the left side of his face. Hank swung his large left arm, propelling Jamie into the wall. Hank, picking Jamie up by the hair with one arm, began hitting him with the other. He was relentless. Angel lay doubled up on the floor as her son’s blood sprayed the floral wallpaper.
Then it happened. Jamie screamed in agonizing pain as Hank flew across the room and out the kitchen window. Angel rolled over to witness her son’s skin rip
The truth was that he stayed home as her protector. He felt responsible for her well-being. Hank couldn’t be trusted, and there was no reason to believe that, if the house caught fire, Hank would get anyone out other than himself. Jamie even suspected that his father had been cheating on his mother. Who in their right mind would be as happy as he is to go to work? In a factory? Who in their right mind would want to have an affair with him? Still, the boy was sure there was some ulterior motive to Hank’s pleasantries when he had been called in on his days off.
Jamie hated his father. He often relished the idea of killing the man, but always came to the conclusion that he didn’t have it in him. They didn’t own a gun, and he wasn’t strong enough to take him out himself; his father was three times his size. Even if he were able, he didn’t really think he could go through with it. I’m not a killer . So he prayed for an unfortunate accident, or that maybe Hank would cross the wrong person. Either way, he always felt powerless to do anything about it. So he retreated to his bedroom, just like any other day, listening to his music, just like any other day. But today wasn’t going to be like any other day.
Suddenly, Jamie heard plates and glasses breaking in the kitchen, and rushed to the scene to check on his mom. There he found Angel lying on the kitchen floor, covered in glass. Hank stood over her, a broken picture frame lying on the counter, evidence that the man had slammed his wife’s head into it.
“Come on, get up bitch, you good for nothing woman!”
As she started to stand, Jamie ran over to help her up.
“Don’t touch her!” yelled Hank, pushing the boy to the side.
“Leave him alone, Hank,” cried Angel. “You take it out on me, not him.”
“Yeah, stand up, and I’ll take it out on you,” he said.
Jamie tried again to reach in and help his mom up, only to be knocked farther back with more force than the first time.
“Touch her again and you’re next, boy.”
Angel jumped up between her husband and son.
“No, he’s not! He’s done nothing to you,” she said.
“Mom, please,” Jamie pleaded. “Let’s go, let’s get outta here.”
“Go? Where the hell you gonna go?” asked Hank. “Where you gonna go that I won’t find you?”
Hank shoved his wife into the kitchen counter, grabbing her by the hair, and dragged her across the floor. Jamie watched in horror, afraid for her life, afraid for his life, and afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop his dad. Finally, he spoke without thinking.
“Hey, why don’t you be a real man and stop beating on a woman?” he said.
Hank dropped Angel to the floor. He turned, smiling, looking at Jamie, his eyes like two black holes, like there was nothing there, devoid of all life and light. Hank laughed as he walked across the kitchen to the trembling boy.
“This has been a long time comin’, hasn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you to man up. You been slinking ‘round here like some kind of scared animal,” Hank said. “Now I’m gonna teach you how to take a beating.”
Angel picked herself up and ran over, grabbing Hank from behind, trying to pull him away from her son. With little effort, Hank threw her back onto the floor, giving her a swift kick to the stomach. Jamie lunged at his father, striking him on the left side of his face. Hank swung his large left arm, propelling Jamie into the wall. Hank, picking Jamie up by the hair with one arm, began hitting him with the other. He was relentless. Angel lay doubled up on the floor as her son’s blood sprayed the floral wallpaper.
Then it happened. Jamie screamed in agonizing pain as Hank flew across the room and out the kitchen window. Angel rolled over to witness her son’s skin rip
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