Take me to church (Book 1)

45- The past and present nightmares

Phil clutches his teddy bear tightly in his arms, a small boy curled up under his bed sheets desperately trying to block out the shouting admitting from downstairs. His ears twitch even more when hearing something smash. He tightens his grip on the teddy bear.

This is the third time in two weeks he's been in this position, trying to avoid the loud voices.

The shouting gets louder as he hears his mum climbing the stairs, his father following suite.

No matter how tightly Phil shuts his eyes and no matter how deep he stays under the covers, the arguing is still clear and he can hear every word.

"He needs more discipline, Catherine. you let him off too easy!"

"You control every aspect of his life, I can't even take him to the bloody park anymore! You scold him if he drops a fork, what more discipline could he need?!"

Phil cowers and knows they're talking about him. They always have arguments because of him, it's always his fault they're angry at each other.
He does try to do things right so his parents don't fight, but it's hopeless, they just never stop.

Hesitantly, Phil pokes his head out from under the bed covers, licking his lips as he then sticks his tiny feet out and on to the cold floor.

When he stands up his pyjamas are loose and bag down over his fragile frame. He still hasn't let go of teddy and continues to hold him as he walks closer to the bedroom door, the shouting is still prominent and he can tell they're at the top of the stairs in the hallway still.

"He needs to know what the real world is like, what evil there is, I'm trying to protect him!" His father bellows and it turns silent for a few seconds before his mother speaks up.

"How do you expect to protect him against yourself? You're beating him bare more and more each day."

"He-he deserves it for doing wrong!"

"He's a child for Christ sake! They grow and learn from their mistakes!" There's a small thud after his mothers shouting, Phil's ear is pressed against the door, his throat clogged in anxious listening. "If you hurt him one more time I'm calling the police, you monster."

Suddenly there's multiple thuds, each one louder than the next, yet sound further from where the last one was. They stop within a few seconds though and it's dead silent. Phil's inquisitiveness gets the better of him and he opens his bedroom door.

He sees his dad staring down the stairs with a cold look of shock, his hands trembling, he hasn't even noticed the young boy.

Phil can't see his mum and figures she might have went downstairs, but quite angrily and quickly down considering how loud the thuds were.

The small boy peers from behind his father, widening his bold eyes at the scene of his mother laying at the bottom of the stairs. She isn't moving and there's blood around her. Phil's emotions are incomprehensible and the only thing he manages to say and do without help is-

"Mummy, can you read me a bedtime story?"

Although, the boys words break halfway through the sentence as he knows what's happened, he knows what actions have just occurred yet he doesn't want to believe it.

His mother was the light of his life and the only source of happiness he had in the household. She was soft and warm, always ever so gentle with the way she spoke. Phil almost wants to fall down the stairs and join her, he misses her already.