The Sick and Twisted Life of Bodil40 [Competition Entry 1]

Stop Fighting

He shivered in his sister's arms. He was scared of the yelling, and screaming. Then his father slammed the door open, and walked to the door being sure to kick the two children on the way. Martin burst out of his sister's arms, and ran up to his father, then pulled gently on his jeans pant leg, begging him to stay.

"Please daddy. Don't leave. I love you." The young boy said, tears dripping down his face. His dad simply glared,and kicked the small child away. Martin was persistent though. He ran up again and did the same thing as before. This time instead of kicking him away simply this time, he shoved the child's fragile skull into the wall, with a sickening crack that echoed through the house.

His sister lunged over to her brother and sobbed holding his his bloody and unconscious body. She called for her mother as her father simply opened the door, and walked out slamming it behind him. His mother never came out.

His sister started to panick, and ran outside, her bare feet slapping the concrete, cutting, and bruising them, but she ran out regardless and yelled for help. She screamed at the top of her lungs, barely concealing her sobs enough to be understood.

Two women ran out, their two young boys, about Martin's age stayed behind. The women ran to the sobbing, hysterical girl in the streets, who dragged them into her house to show them her horribly injured brother. One gagged, and called 9-1-1 on her small blue flip phone, with a small dangling ornament clanging against her wedding ring, worry lines creasing over her face making her appear older than she was.

The other was checking his pulse, and ripped her light, powdery, blue shirt sleeve off, wrapping the thin material around the wound, and applying pressure in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she stuck her light pink tounge out the side of her mouth in concentration.

Once the one on the phone had finished making the call she asked the young girl to where she last saw or heard her mother. The girl walked her down the dark hallway, and sidestepped the shattered blue, and yellow vase pieces on the floor, from when the argument started. The girl pointed at the dark oak door, with a shiny, fake, brass handle that was carved in an effort to mimick an authentic metal. The woman opened the door, and gasped, seeing the mother of the two children unconscious. There was no blood which was a relief, but she saw multiple bruises on the woman's arms, and face. She had a black eye that was progressively turning purple. She gasped in horror, the girl running up to her mother and sobbing.

Not everything happens for a reason.
Not this at least.