The Unescapable

Untitled Part 2

"Read us a story before we go to bed." James said to Mother. Mother smiled and walked over to James's bed then took a seat. I was lying down in my bed, but I quickly got up and went to sit beside her. I lay my head to rest on her arm and she kissed my forehead. "What would you like the story to bed about?" she asked us. "I want a story about a nice monster." I said. "Yeah," James said, "and the monster's best friend is a rabbit." "Alright," Mother said, and then she proceeded with her story. I fell asleep halfway through the story, the Mother's soft voice hanging in the air, guiding me to sleep, to a better world where the stories she told us became a reality.

I woke up later that night to the sound of a hard "thump" in the kitchen. I knew something was wrong. Something was always wrong. But still, I looked up over to James's bed, hoping that he would tell me otherwise. I knew he would be awake. The night light shone between our two beds reflected light on his face. But his eyes reflected nothing but darkness. "I don't give a damn if they're sleeping!". Then there was another "thump". Father was home. I glanced over at the clock on the night table, it was three in the morning. James got up and started to walk over to the doorway, I looked up at him with fear and curiosity, he gave me a weak smile. He started to open the door, and I could see from where I lay in my bed, Mother in tears, facing Father. She looked over to James and gave a slight nod to say no, and I could feel her pain from where I lay. We both knew there was nothing we could do. James closed the door and locked it.

The first time Father tried to hit me, I was four years old, but James, who was seven, took the hit instead. It had only taken two words. Mother had just walked away from Father, on her way to their bedroom. I was a few meters away, James was beside me. As I saw Mothers bruised face, I felt the pain rush through my body. "Why daddy?" I asked. James must have known, he must have seen the look in Fathers eyes. He immediately turned around and wrapped me in his arms, and a second later I felt James pushed towards me by the monstrous hand that was my Fathers. Mother had immediately turned around and run towards us, tears In her eyes, she scooped us both with her arm and rushed us to our bedroom as Father watched. "It's okay, boys." she said as she sat down on the bed. We were standing in front of her, and she took our hands and kissed them. "I'm sorry." she whispered. James sat down beside her and hugged her, I did the same. That night Father was leaving to go to work. Father is an air pilot, so he travels a lot. He's only home about two days a week. Me and James are homeschooled, Mother doesn't work so she teaches us everything! The next day Mother had brought us to the store to buy a new doorknob. One that was lockable. The nearest store was a long drive away, but Mother had called a cab nevertheless. She was determined to make our room somewhat of a safe spot. That's also the day she bought us the night light. She told us that whenever the nightlight was on, it meant that there could be monsters roaming around in the house, and that we should stay in our beds. She said it would protect us. She was very stern when she told us NEVER to come out of our room when it was turned on. And she made sure it was always turned on at night. Night was when Father would get home. We never knew when he would come home, but we knew it would be dark out when he did. Sometimes I wondered if maybe he wasn't the one who brought the darkness along with him.

James went over to his bed, and I crawled in to join him. He took me in his arms and whispered to me that everything would be okay. I fell asleep two hours later, tormented by the Fathers screams and Mothers whispers. Even when the fight was over, I could hear the echo of the bruises I would find on Mother later today.

Mother woke us up at 10:00 AM. "Come on, today is nature day boys." she told us in a hushed voice. James and I both knew what "nature day" meant. It was a synonym for "escape". Whenever Father was home we had nature day. We would go for a long walk in the forest, and depending on how productive we had been that week, Mother would either let us play, or sometimes, she would teach. We never really knew when Father would wake up, only that it was usually in the afternoon. Seeing as he was a pilot his sleep schedule was scattered everywhere. We got ready and then left for our long walk. On our way to a safe spot, I asked Mother to tell us a story. But not any story. A special story. She had told us this story for the first time when I was six. The day that Father had actually hit me for the first time. She smiled as she started the story.