Wrath Of God

Prologue

Tick… Tock… Tick… each stroke of the clock resounding like a thunderous boom.

Outside of our small broken down house, a devastating storm raged on.

Heavy rains fell from angry clouds punishing the earth viciously. Loud echoes of rumbling thunder cracked through skies and sharp flashes of bright lightning sliced through the dark air. Strong winds bent trees and blew rubbish and dirt along the streets. The heavy rain, the unrelenting wind and the ferocious thunder threatened to tear the walls down of our smile house, shaking at the very foundations.

All this noise, chaos and fury outside but I heard none of it. The noise, chaos and fury going on inside the house was so much more devastating.

All I can hear is the ticking of the clock, my own erratic heartbeat and her dying screams. All I can see is her face contorting in pain. An image forever imprinted in my mind.

He is hurting her, killing her…. She is dying, screaming and I am watching.

A six-year-old boy paralyzed in fear unable to move, unable to look away.

I should help, I want to help but I can’t. I’m scared, frozen in fear.

There are tears running down her make-up stained face. She had blue bruises and red welts that made her barely recognizable. Her lip was split open and blood poured out freely. She was broken and I watched as my father broke her more.

Tears streamed down my face and from my cheeks, hitting the cold floor. My lips quiver as inaudible sounds come out my mouth. I feel sick. ‘Mommmommmommmy’ the words come out as a strangled whisper.

I look into her eyes as she stops screaming, her body goes limp and she falls to the floor, lying in her own blood. He looks at me, his eyes red and his cheeks even more so.

He is unshaven and his hair is an oily dirty mess. He reeks of alcohol mixed with sweat.

Father was a drunk with a temper. He hated his life, he hated his job and he hated himself. He was a poor, overweight, dim-witted and uneducated factory worker that was constantly ridiculed by his supervisors and managers. He married the first woman he knocked up and moved into a small trashy, broken-down house with a rent that he struggled to pay and a landlord who looked down upon him just like every other person he knew. So he escaped into a bottle. He drowned his sorrows in liquor and quieted all the disapproving, judgmental voices with copious amounts of alcohol.

Father had a bad temper which only got worse with every sip of cheap liquor.

When he was drunk, he got violent. Some days were worse than others.

Tonight was bad, really bad. He had hurt mother and mother had tried to defend herself. This made him mad with rage and he killed her. He killed her right there in front of me. He moves towards me, never taking his eyes off me. He says something but all I can hear is my heart beating faster and faster.

My mind is telling me to run but my feet stay rooted on the spot. He is in front of me.

He smiles a devilish smile. I can see the mad anger in his eyes. I want to move but I can’t. I want to scream but I’m silent. I’m so afraid. He raises his arm, I flinch and look away. The last thing I see before darkness claims me is my mother’s lifeless body… then it all goes black.

I welcomed the darkness, because it took the pain away.