Taking Risks

8

HIM

I wake up to screaming and plates getting thrown and broken into pieces. Then I hear my mom pleading with him to stop, with the occasional sob as he continues to scream at her.

I sigh and close my eyes, willing the sounds to go away but to no avail. If anything, it just got worse. When the screaming reaches another decibel, I sit up and throw the bed covers away as I quickly saunter downwards towards the kitchen where they are.

And see red at what greeted me when I got there.

My mom is cowering in fear by the kitchen sink, her hands outstretched as if to fend him off. And him, with his hand up, a glass clutched within his fist in an act of throwing said glass towards my mother.

I have no time to think things through. I simply reacted with what I think was the right thing to do right at that moment. Regrets will be for later.

Though to be honest, I know I wouldn't regret what I am about to do.

I walk quickly towards him - and my mother, noticing me finally, moves her outstretched hand towards me instead, trying to stop me - this time around.

I don't adhere to her.

Instead, I clamp my hand on his shoulder, turn him around and with all the strength I can muster, pull my fist back and punch him straight and strong on his jaw, guaranteeing him going down.

As he lay on the tiled kitchen floor - stunned from my punch, I straddle him and start to hit him in the face repeatedly, not really minding that blood from his broken nose is starting to stain my fists.

"HINDI. MO. NA. SASAKTAN. ANG. NANAY. KO," I quietly but firmly say, as I punch him with every word. I am so blinded by my rage that I can't hear anything aside from the rushing of my blood, the beating of my heart and the sound of my fist hitting his already bloody face.

It isn't until Riza touches my arm that I stop, my chest heaving with effort as I look at her, crying. My mom, on the other hand, is bawling on the floor by the kitchen sink, still calling my name. I don't realize it but as I wipe my forehead riddled with sweat, I found my face also wet - with tears.

"Kuya, tama na," Riza sobs as she helps me to stand up. "Tama na, please. Ok na. Hindi na niya sasaktan si Mama."

I stand up and scoff in disgust at the person who made my mom's life a living hell, making ours in turn a living hell as well. Mom's about to go to him when I stop her with a fierce gaze, telling her in no uncertain terms are we to associate ourselves any longer with this vile excuse of a man.

"Tama na, Ma," I quietly say, halting her in her steps. "Tapos na kayo. 'Pag siya pa rin ang pinili ninyo, aalis na kami ni Riza. Kaya ko siyang buhayin ng mag-isa. Kaya ko kayong buhayin ng mag-isa. Hindi natin siya kailangan. Siguro dati - n'ung nag-aaral pa lang ako at walang trabaho. Pero ngayon..."

I take a deep breath and try to calm my still racing heart. I stutter a bit as I exhale and tears are now freely flowing from my eyes. I don't care that I'm crying. My mom ought to see what her relationship with this vile person is doing to her children.

"Wala ng rason para piliin ninyo pa rin siya. Wala naman na siyang nagawang maganda para sa atin, eh. Hihintayin ninyo pa ba na si Riza naman ang mapag-diskitahan niya? Paano na lang 'pag wala ako dito?"

I let my words sink in and I can see my mother thinking, though she remains silent as she cries.

Without another word, I stoop down once more and pick up my stepfather - ugh! Even thinking that in my head is making me shudder - putting his arm around my shoulder as I hoist him up. He groans as he touches his head and bloody face, looking at me like he doesn't know me, probably still out of it from my punches.