STOP ABUSE

• Samanth Jabbour, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2013

I was lost in a black sea of life's affliction and adversity. A sea morphed by the throbbing bruises festooning my mother's neck and jaw.

I watched as my Father struck my Mother with all the might and severity of ones worst nightmare. The excruciating pain that reflected across her face had left me deserted, with trembling fingers and unspoken words. The resentment I have towards my Fathers brutal punches and governance of us was unbearable. I had to fight against the urge to burst out into tears and shield my Mothers body; the urge to become so naive and think I could protect her. To buffer her against the harrowing pain that is delivered every time his fist puts her in her place.

I shut my eyes. Detaching myself from this horrible hallucination, escaping to a world where I didn't have to learn how to grow up in a war I called home; a world where I knew the directions when a storm struck. Of course the only refuge I had only lasted a few moments before a terrifying wail proclaimed my mother's misery and repentance signalled my time of torment; my time to hide in the shadows of my grief.

He grabbed at the slim frame of my shoulders and with such might and force hurled me across the room. Hurdling through the air I collided with the cold, marble staircase. the cold of the staircase injected me with a certain numbness that mimicked the relationship we shared within the household, spiritless, blunt. I was held captive by deceitful actions, bound by the level of insecurity and fear radiating around my mother and myself. He crushed our self confidence, snatched away our worthless virtue.

He started to jaunt towards me, he's long strides managed to slow down time and my world; my only inch of hope I had conveyed over these long, torturous years had start to crumble before my eyes. His large hand slapped across my cheek. The pain shooting up my face like a firework show. It had caused me to react in a way which defines the affect it had on me. Although I couldn't recognise my voice anymore. Disguising itself as a ruthless, little broken child. screaming and protesting against the traumatic events that took place this evening.

His mercenary, husky voice tore through the layers I had built, protecting my emotions against this dark and mean world. 'Go up to your room... NOW!" I scrambled up on my feet; walking as fast as i could, even though my feet felt like lead. I trudged up the stairs to my room where I have been shedding my tears ever since I was a little girl.

The thick, salty tears began streaming down my face. They felt particularly heavy tonight, all the downfalls of my harsh reality weighing them down. once again I am left to think of yet another excuse to keep myself alive.