Pain

Chapter 6: Abuse

Joey had been sleeping in my room.....why would he leave?

I hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary that night, and I didn't even hear a single footstep. So what happened? 

I had woken up and struggled to reach his bed on only my left leg since my right had been so badly burnt in the fire and it was of no use anymore. I couldn't see Jo, just his blanket and so I thought he was under it, hiding, so I pulled it off, and all I saw was an empty mattress.

 I wasn't too worried, although it was unlike Joey to wake up so early for school, it was still possible.

"Joooooeeeeyyy!" My voice echoed through the staircase. Loud enough to wake up my mom, who asked what was going on. "Where's Joey, mom?" I asked. I was getting slightly worried but didn't completely lose hope.

"Joey's asleep, he's in your room, remember? Where else would he be?" She replied, sounding annoying.  Well, that was no help! Of course, I already checked my room, how dumb did she think I was? 

"Mom, he's not in my room, or his, that's why I asked." I was getting worried now. Jo can't just leave like that, he was only eight years old!

"Hmm? Not in your room? HENRI! GET UP! WE CAN'T FIND JOEY!" Mom yelled so loud it made my ears bleed. 

I could hear my dad groan a little, then say quietly "He's in Caia's room" Just like mom had said and I had thought. When we explained to dad he wasn't there, he slowly got out of bed and came downstairs. All three of us yelling Joey's name inside and outside the house. Where the hell was he?

We talked to the neighbors, most of them were sleeping, but we were desperate. We'd been looking for an hour and a half now, and still no sign of Joey anywhere. The neighbors said they hadn't seen or heard anything either and that they just wanted to go back to sleep. But someone must have seen something. Nobody can just disappear like  that without someone else noticing something. We had to find Joey. We had to find my brother. 

After 24 hours with no sign of Joey or even a little idea of what could have happened, Mom informed the police, and they said they would start a search immediately. I was let off for the first week of the disappearance to help look for Joey, but my parents wanted me to go for the second week, I was already failing all my classes (Thank you to the bullies who made me despise school and learning) and I couldn't afford to miss more.

I woke up next the next week on Monday feeling alright, but that feeling shrunk as I remembered what had happened in the past week. Joey was nowhere to be found yet, and nobody had the faintest idea of why.

I slowly made my way off the bed and into the washroom, head hanging low. I got ready slowly, I kept imagining different scenarios on what could have happened. Maybe Joey ran away. No..He loved home. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he saw the man outside again, so he went to the backyard to see who he was, and the man took him. Maybe he was kidnapped. Maybe we'll never find him....maybe...maybe he's dead... No. No No. No. I was paranoid. Joey was obviously alive, nobody disappears and dies without being seen or found withing the next few days, that was ridiculous. I just had to give it another day, the police would find him, of course they will.

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I went to school. I talked to nobody, learned nothing, and kept my head down the whole day while people insulted me and laughed. I'd say that's a pretty good day. 

When I came back home, my dad was sitting in the living room. He was reading the news, probably looking for something that could lead us to Joey, but his face gave off a disappointed expression. They were still looking. "Mom's with the police, helping them find Joey." dad said. "It's just us at home."

I had never really been home with just dad before. So it was the first time I experienced the abuse.

Yes, abuse.

I don't remember how or why it started. Was it because he needed to take his anger out on someone? I think so. All I remember is I was beaten until I hunched over screaming in pain. When my mom wasn't at home, which was most of the time since my brother had gone missing, dad would slap me, he would throw me again the walls, soon he started using a sharp meat cutting knife to add more pain. It was torture with him.

Once, while mom was at the grocery store, dad had gotten an old baseball bat and whacked me in the stomach, making my double over in extreme pain. Once he tied me up and sunk a knife in my left ankle, on my only working leg, he cut a deep scar across my foot, spelling the words 'help me'. I didn't dare look down to see the knife inside my skin, but it stung like nothing I had ever felt before. It reminded me of thoughts that caused me pain on the inside. It was an experience unlike any other. I felt the knife roughly spell out the words. The words I was thinking. 

I would often scream. Telling my father to stop. He would never listen.

He made me promise not to tell anyone about what he did to me. About "our" secret. If I did, he would only increase the painfulness in the abuse. 

Imagine the pain you would feel if you cut your entire body, making it bleed. You can't. Imagine stabbing the knife through your chest. You can't. Imagine being in an endless pain. Nobody can. The pain I felt could not be shared, explained, or imagined. It was a pain beyond a life. It felt like death. 

And this pain would continue.