Growing up for me was never easy especially with the mother I had.
After dad had left, she left her job in New York and started to smoke Marijuana and drink alcohol twenty-four, seven.
She would go down the road, pass the corner by the man who lives in the old, unfinished house, with her friends and stay for hours.
She often said with a firm strick voice," Leonard! I'm going down the road by the man with the bush. Don't come out of your room and go by your good for nothing grandparents, or else you'll see what you're getting from me. I'm coming back by eight o'clock tonight I better see you sleeping in your room." And she'll leave slamming the door behind her.
At the beginning after dad had left I never really knew what she was doing.
Some nights she would come home and if she catches me sleeping on the couch she would pull me by my arm roughly, squeezing it with all her strength and yell at the top of her lungs, " Jamie! Didn't I tell you that you should be sleeping in your room when I come home?" And she'll squeeze my arm so hard that it will start to turn blue like if the blood circulation to my arm has been cut off completely.
She would then pull me upstairs by my feet to my room making my body hit against the staircase, the impact will hit me in my abdominal area causing it to get blue and as she reach my door she would let go of my feet leaving it to slam into the cement flooring, tell me to get up and slam my body into the door, my back will take the lash and the door knob will hit into my skin making contact with my left side.
I would have to open the door and go into my room then lock the door shut behind me turning the lock on the door knob, in fear of her hurting me again.
As she walks of I would hear her screaming, " I don't know why I have this child I just want him gone from my life, he is the worst!" I would jump into my bed, my body making contact with the warm, soft mattress and wonder why.
What had I done so wrong.
She often called me different names because she can't remember my real name.
It was like this was never going to stop.
I prayed and prayed for better days but I didn't know when those days were going to come.
When she left to go with her friends to smoke and drink whole day I would try to sneak out the house to go by my grandparents because I would be starving so much that my weight would drastically change, sometimes I could see my rib cage because it was that bad.
Some days I would wonder how she even gets the money to by all that garbage and never food every Sunday and Wednesday.
When I felt hungry and leave to go up the street by my grandparents to see if I could get something to eat, it would be like Paradise.
They used to take such good care of me, if it wasn't for them I think I would have died of starvation.
They fed me and toke care of me better than my mother ever did.
My mother never even think about washing her clothes, she used to wear the same dirty clothes from Tuesday night bingo game at the bar for example.
My grandparents saw how she treated me like garbage like if I was some old junk that needed to be thrown away.
They wanted to get me out of that house but no matter how much they try, they could not have done it but I don't know why.
Grandpa did not tell me why.
They told me that whenever she's abusing me and I could run away, come to their house.
My grandfather often whispers to me with his voice cracking as he speaks,
"No matter where or when, she shall not abuse you, both your grandmother and I are going to protect you. That beast is not going to abuse you any longer as we both live." Referring to my grandmother and him.
I will not stand up to this form of abuse any longer, even though I was nine at the time, I fully well knew what was abuse and what was not abuse, but I could not do anything about it back then because when ever I tried to kick or push her away from hitting or kicking me she gets angry and she would pick up something and hit me on my head with it before I even knew it was coming.
She never did it to kill me but she did it to knock me out.
My head never bled or anything like that, I just used to get headaches the next day.
My grandparents would have to give me panadol to stop the pain.
Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
But I don't understand how my grandparents failed to get me out of that house though, didn't my mother hated me?
YOU ARE READING
The Mind Trap.
AksiKaleb's life was never easy until he met her. His best friend who stood by his side no matter what crazy situation they were pulled into but what will happen when his runs away from his mother? Will she let him go or will she mess with his head like...
