Don't Say Anything (boyxboy)

Chapter 15

I didn't want to sleep anymore.

I couldn't stand it.

My head hurt but still it played over and over the memories of when I was just a kid. But sometimes I felt like I never even really was a kid. I grew up with the memories that left me scarred. They left me worried for my wellbeing and my mom's too. I was forced to grow up quick. I do remember being carried as a baby and getting bandages put over skinned knees. But I shouldn't have to remember calling the ambulance on Thanksgiving day just to make sure my mom didn't bleed to death. I shouldn't have to remember taking out broken glass from my foot that day that "dad" had lost all control. I shouldn't have to remember being only thirteen and taken down to the police station because "dad" wanted another pack of smokes and a twelve pack of beer.

I shouldn't have to remember but I do.

And the images are constantly on repeat as I stand in them as a ghost who can only watch my ten year old self scream as I saw mom slumped against the kitchen sink with blood trickling down her arms. The blood is everywhere and she cut so deep I didn't know what to do. I reached forward to grab myself and try to calm myself down because I know everything is going to be okay but my hand only goes through my younger self's shoulder. And then I start to cry because now mom's unconscious on the floor and the turkey is still on the small dining table we have. And even then in a few hours time it'll still be there. Cold and untouched.

And then the memory is spinning and I have a headache that's black and blue and has me falling to my knees in my head. When the wind stops howling in my ears and the ground has stopped shaking I look up to see a new memory. This one's sweeter and a lot less torturous. The grass is green and the sun is up high. I can see my eight year old self running around in the backyard of a house I don't remember living in. I see my laces untied and my body tripping over them as my knee hits the pavement and a gash is formed on my knee. Instant pain and worry flashes through my eyes and a scream resonates from my lips. Mom, who was working on the backyard garden with a small shovel in her hand, flinches and drops the plants in her other hand. She's up and running towards my crying figure and soon enough she's helping me up and cleaning me off in the bathroom.

And then everything is spinning again.

And this time the vision starts out blinding me in an array of blue and red flashing lights and a siren so loud you'd think it'd burst your eardrums. I'm screaming from my huddled position behind the couch as I see mom protecting herself from the monster I'm forced to call "dad". She's screaming and crying too, yelling for me to run upstairs or go with the neighbor, Abbey and her cats. But I don't listen to her because I have to stay and make sure she ends up okay, even if I can't do anything except watch and panic and scream. "Dad's" bottle is glistening against the dainty glow of the living room light and I notice I'm still in that house with the backyard I don't remember. But before I can even think about grabbing the bottle to smash it against him, he's hitting my mom and she's almost to the ground. Even my now self jumps forward to try and help her but I remember I can't and just watch as my "dad" pushes her against the wall and continuously beats her. And he doesn't stop until there's pounding on the door and threats of it coming down. He doesn't stop until mom is laying on the floor with breaths so shallow I'm scared she won't make it. He doesn't stop until he's sitting back down on his sagging old chair with his bottle back in his hand and his focus back on the tv. He doesn't stop even when he looks at me and the front door is kicked down and he whispers, "She deserved it."

He never stopped.

And I'm sick of having my eyes closed because I can feel everything around me but I can't do anything about it and I feel like my younger self trapped inside that body and state of mind where I'm positive there's nothing I can do except watch but even now that's the one thing that's been taken from me. And I feel hopeless.