That Red Van
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There he was. You never thought you could hate someone as much as you did him. You despise him, loathe him, and are truly disgusted by his presence. You ask yourself why your mother, your world, your closest friend, was still with him. She was worth more than that, he treated her like shit, but that was all she knew. Routinely. Habitually. Regularly. Time after time, he would hurt her, beat her. All you could do is begin to hate yourself for not being there when it happened. He was a coward, and true weak man for breaking her down and not facing you after he had destroyed her heart, her body, her soul. Whenever you got home and saw that red van your heart raced, blood pumping, head pounding, wondering what to do. He would follow you, stalk you, hound your every move in that dreaded red van. He was a pest, a parasite that was sucking the life slowly out of your family, he had to be stopped. Whenever you saw that red van, you knew that life is not always fine, it's a nightmare masked by the elements of a dream.
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