We Were Lightning (Landslide Book 3: Violet)

Chapter Four

Hello hello peoples! Here's another update for you. It's like super short so I'm gonna be wwiicccckkeeddd generous and double post today! Hooray. I know, I'm so giving ;p 

But, in all honesty, I won't have much time to update this week. I have thanksgiving with my family and then thanksgiving with my girlfriends family and a crap ton of homework cause my professors are buttheads. SO. i will post this chapter and the next one and MAYBE i will post again later this week If i have time 

There is more abuse in this chapter, so please please please take care of yourselves when reading. 

As always, Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Ten Years Ago

It took three years for his abuse to escalate. I spent those three years waiting for that other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to grab a knife or a gun and try to kill us. He was a mean drunk. A reckless drunk. He didn't care for my mom and I in any way. He would play nice at neighborhood cookouts; paint us like the picture-perfect family. But the moment we stepped into the house it was game over.

We didn't smile enough.

We didn't laugh at his jokes.

We made him look stupid in front of his friends.

We made him feel inferior. And for that, we paid. In our screams drowned out by the TV. In our pain that left bruises hidden along our bodies. For a while, he just targeted my mom. Usually it was late at night, I was supposed to be in bed. But I could hear her screaming, begging him not to do it. The louder she begged the worse it was for her. I couldn't sleep until I knew it was over.

I was ten when he did it in front of me. He came home drunk again, it was late afternoon this time. It was winter, and I had been sick for the past week just laying on the couch. He stumbled into the house fuming. He was ranting and raving.

"Those goddamn assholes thinking they're better than me," He stomped into the kitchen. The fridge rattled as he opened and slammed it shut. A fizzle and pop sounded before he marched back into the living room. "Where's your mother?" His voice boomed filling up every square inch in the house. I was too terrified to answer. "I'm asking you a fucking question, Violet. Where the fuck is your mother?" Before I could answer my mom came running down the stairs.

"Murphy, what are you doing home?" Her hair was wet, and a purple bruise peeked out from the collar of her shirt.

"The bastards down at the shop fired me!" He roared. My mom and I visibly shrunk back. "They cited some bullshit about work ethic and personal responsibility..."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't show up to work drunk," My mom said without thought. I watched in horror as he eyes widened in realization. His beer can thunked to the ground spilling all over the carpet just before his hands wrapped tightly around her throat.

"What did you just say, bitch?" He squeezed tighter. "I have provided for this family for years while you get to play house wife. You don't get to be ungrateful, do you hear me?"

"Let her go," I piped up from the couch. Three years I sat idly by as I knew my mom was being beaten, choked, and bruised. Three years I was too afraid to do anything. I was still afraid to do something, but I couldn't just sit there and watch as he strangled the life out of the one person who has always protected me.

My dad dropped her on the ground and turned his rage on me. "What was that?"

"Leave her alone, dad," I said voice shaking. "She didn't mean it. Please just—just leave her alone."

"Okay," he said as he stalked over to me. He yanked me up off the couch roughly. "Would you like to take the beating for her?" I didn't get a chance to respond before he back handed me across the face.

"Murphy! No!" My mom croaked from the floor pushing herself up.

"I'm gonna teach her where her place is, just like I taught you." His calloused hands from years of mechanic work latched onto my forearms. Tears were falling rapidly from my eyes. My brain was telling me to run or fight against him, but I knew better. It would only make him angrier. He needed complete control and I needed not to die. It was simple.

So, I took the beating. Every horrible world he slung at me. All the punches, kicks, and tight grips. My mom had tried to intervene but was smacked out of his way. I turned to her with pleading eyes begging her to just stay down. It'd be over faster if we just let it go. I learned this from the countless night I listened to his abuse. The more my mom struggled against him, the worse it got and the longer it went on for. On the days where she gave in, where she was too tired or too broken down to stop it, those were the days the abuse didn't last quite as long.

My mom sat crying on the floor as my father belittled and beat me into submission. I cried with her. It ended eventually, but it certainly wasn't the last time it happened. I tried my best to not make him angry most days. There were, of course, the days where it didn't matter what I said or did, I would end up in a similar situation. My mom would carry me upstairs and put me in the shower and take care of any wounds I may have. She taught me how to hide them and we leaned on each other the best we could.

We wanted to leave him. But she had no money. We had no means. There was no way he would ever let us go, not even under the cover of night. For years we were too scared to do anything but take it. Until my mom found out she was pregnant with Tyler.  

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A little more of a peek into Violet's past. 

Let me know what you think!