Moments To Remember

PROLOGUE~

I believe that when you leave a person behind and move along with your life, you take a small part of that person with you. And it stays with you forever.

Weather it is a shared smile with a stranger or something that you learned from your parents. These little parts make memory, good ones and the bad ones.

I had mostly bad ones, considering my dad died when I was six leaving me and my four year old brother with a crazy women whom I can't call mother.

After dad died things started falling apart, things could have been different but this is how they turned out to be. I now understand how difficult it was for to lose her husband; she was not lost all at once. It happened gradually with subtlety in the beginning she stopped cooking for us. Breakfast became lunch; lunch became dinner and so on. We would wait for hours for her to pick me and Sam from school, and then all at once she completely lost it. My so called mom tortured me and Sam for two years.

She would get drunk every night and beat us up. Even in summer's scorching heat we had to wear full clothes so no one would see our bruises.

That time was horrible of course. We couldn't tell anyone, our mom made sure we opened our mouth to no one. She pretended to be perfect from the outside, but Sam and I were not very good at acting.

So one day Sam finally told our Aunt Lena what mom was doing to us. I remember the day vividly like it's imprinted on the back of my mind. I couldn't forget even if I want to.

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"You little shit you think you're so smart huh..." Mom yelled slapping Sam right across his cheek for the fifth time.

"Uh..uh..I'm sorry mom..Re..Really...I won't tell anyone. Ple..." Sam cried looking at me for help.

But I couldn't do anything. Our mom had this beating pattern, when she's beating Sam she would tie me to a chair and stuff a napkin in my mouth so I couldn't speak and same thing applied to Sam when she would beat me.

Another smack "What did I told you Sam?" My mom asked pulling his hair roughly. "I told you not to fucking utter a single word. Is that really hard to understand for a six year old?" She asked.

She swapped her hand across her face to get her blonde hair away from her eyes. At this point she didn't know what she was doing. She was trembling and losing control, until this night things never went that far.

In front of me was lying two empty bottles of vodka. I wanted to close my eyes and ears. I didn't want to see Sam crying and hear his muffled screams.

"I'm Sorry..."

"Fucking stop saying things. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it."

I saw her punching him harder and harder. I yelled, screamed but nothing came out of my mouth. My eyes filled with tears and I started to see blur, my breathing came into pants, I wanted to beg her to stop, to beat me instead.

Soon Sam dropped on the floor, but mom didn't stop hitting him. She keeps on saying things I couldn't understand or I didn't want to understand.

One last strangled scream came out of Sam's mouth and then everything became still. That was the last thing I remember before I passed out. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, there were few things I was certain of.

First, things will either become worse or maybe this was finally the end of torture. Second, when the police and my Aunt Lena told me that my mother would never hurt me again and she was gone forever, I knew that she had given me some part of her life.

She left me with a condition called Angrophobia, the fear of anger or becoming angry. Sam was gone; the reason doctors told me that he died due to chocking. But I know it was not a murder, because that night Sam and I had reached our limits.

And we both knew we had to do something...Anything to put our misery to an end. Aunt Lena took me in; she quit her college and her life to take care of me. It was that or foster home.

I was eight when it all happened. I'm 19 now, but I guess there are some things that time can't heal.