Amy
She could hear him. She knew it was him. Who else would enter her home so late at night? Who else would disrupt her slumber in such rude ways?
As a little girl woken in the dark of a peaceful night she was frightened, afraid of what was to come. She knew the door between her room and the hallway gave her safety, but what was going to happen beyond it frightened her most.
She woke with the moonlight pouring through her window, curtains softening the glow. Perspiration on her neck created ringlets in her hair. Her nightgown hung to the floor and she was a picture of sweet, sweet innocence. Tiny painted fingernails and toes, stuffed animals sharing her bed, she was everyone and anyone’s little girl.
Before long she could hear the mumbling and the voices begin to escalate. “Oh come on, get off my back!” he would say to her mother as she questioned where he’d been. His voice carried, perhaps because he was so tall and his presence so ominous in their small home. Perhaps the drugs and alcohol had something to do with it, though? Perhaps it made him louder?
The little girl knew that something louder might be coming and she wished with all of her might that her mommy would not say anything more to the man. She hoped that if they didn’t speak…if he didn’t get mad… maybe the house would be quiet and cozy once again. But his callousness cut this mommy too deep and she would wince, showing just enough pain to fuel him and the exchange would continue. It was if they were tied by a rope to the back of a truck…once the truck started, they were all going along for the ride, to be dragged, pulled along, no matter the cost.
Another question from the mommy and the responses grew louder, the obscenities and vulgarities thrown at the woman hurt this little girl almost as much, as the words bounced off the walls and embedded in the her memory. Yelling turned to screaming … and it seemed odd to this child that no one else could hear. She wondered why no one stopped him. She wondered why no one came. And later, she would wonder why no one protected her or or her brother.
In her small room it would take a seemingly long time to get from the bed to the door. She didn’t dare open it, but if she sat down by it, she could hear better, and understand a little more clearly what was taking place. A plate or glass had been thrown and it was easier to identify through the small crack where the light from the hallway sneaked in. She placed her hand on the doorknob and wait for some courage, but it never seemed to come.
She imagined the man’s icy eyes and knew how his size towered over her mother’s. The beginning of a struggle was heard and the little girl held her breath hoping that it would end quickly. A gasp from her mommy and she wanted to run to her, but what would she do? What could she do when she got there? Her mommy would sob and as the man squeezed life out of her mommy he also squeezed some out of the little girl. He would eventually succumb to fatigue and end the bout with more profanities directed at the mommy. Each word cut into the ribbon of innocence tied sweetly around the little girl, eventually shredding it and fraying the edges of her heart as well. Each blow that landed robbed her of the serenity of a child because there was no safety. Each helpless moment chipped away at the block of courage that she had to stand on and eventually she felt none, but was left instead with stepping stones to shame.
For so many long nights, though, that little girl could only hang on to her bedroom doorknob, and wait for the noise to stop.
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Amy tweets as @abeeliever , and blogs at Una Vita Bella.
39 Responses to “Amy”
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It’s always easy to ignore the little kid in the room as she doesn’t classify directly under the “abused” category. The death of the child within her is not seen as a crime but just an “unfortunate circumstance”, nothing therapy can’t solve.
I’m glad you spoke out Amy. It takes a lot of courage to do that. I respect you and wish you all the best in your life.
~ Jaded16
Everytime I read things like this I am reminded how being that mother and sticking it out, helped nobody.
Thank you for speaking out.
cat
that was beautiful and horrid at the same time. thanks for sharing.
I’m so sorry that this happened to you and your family. It breaks my heart to think about children who experience this confusion and horror and pain.
Oh, I wish all young women could read this. I felt like I was right there with her.
Holding you close.
Thank you for speaking out. I’m sorry you had to go through this. I hope it’s made you stronger.
Amy, my sweet friend. The pain you have suffered has made you a stronger woman and a better mother. You will not continue the cycle now the little girl can stand up to the monster who made you suffer and hold the mom who suffered for you and your brother. Hug her no words are needed she will know why you are giving her comfort. I am there with you.
Reading this, I know beyond all doubt that the single best decision I ever made was to take my two year old little girl and leave. And never look back.
Thank you. For giving voice to all of the children who hide beyond closed doors, who exist at the back of closets, at the farthest corner under the bed.
It is worse to hear violence, to watch it inflicted on One that you love and to feel powerless. You are no longer powerless- for this I am grateful.
Thank you for sharing your story. Hugging you electronically.
Poor baby girl. :hugs:
Thank you for writing this. For showing what the truth is for that child.
I was also that child. I hope this brings more vision to folks to seek out those children and their mommies (or daddies as the case may be).
Thank you and believe that you are blessed.
I what you are describing all too well. I wish there was something that I could say or do to make it better and not hurt. I guess all I can do is let you know I am out here and I know what you are feeling.
How do we survive these things? Seeing you on the other side of that nightmare is a testament to your amazing strength. No longer silent, your voice breathes tremendous courage to so many who are too scared to scream.
So proud of what you do to help people struggling to help themselves.
You’re proof that the cycle of violence can be broken.
That you for sharing your story. I cannot imagine the pain your must feel remembering these events.
It must be very hard being a child and hearing that and wanting to help but not being able to. I hope the shame has lifted in the child’s heart now that you are an adult. You are a survivor and did the best you could at the time.
my heart breaks reading your words… and yet it is put back together with your strength at the same time.
your words are powerful. your voice is strong.
thank you.
Thank you for sharing. I needed to read this, today, searching for courage of my own. I’m sorry that she had to hear that, but it helped me to know what a child does hear, when you think they’re asleep.
Incredible strength and courage to relay those memories. Thank you for telling your story.
thanks for sharing your story. Children are often overlooked in domestic violence situations. I’m so sorry to read this happened to you and your mom. Sending you a big hug across the miles – Let me know how I can help you in any way – domestic violence needs to end.
You are couragous, kind, and very brave for sharing this story.
A, I am so proud of you for sharing this. You are a very strong woman and I know that your faith will get you through anything. I’m blessed to know you. ((hugs)) ~S
My prayer is that little girl inside you finds healing and peace. I am so sorry that you had to endure such pain, so completely out of your control. Thank you for sharing your story. You will be helping many people.
Thank you for sharing your story here…Wishing the grown up you many quiet, peaceful nights.
Thank you for sharing your story. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been to endure as a child. It makes my heart sink to think of any child living without safety. You are strong and your words will help so many others. I hope that writing them here has helped you too.
I spent many nights listening to my parents argue. It was ugly. It is an ugliness that we need to keep away from our children, as you have so effectively illustrated. Thank you for posting this story.
My heart breaks for that little girl, for you. Thank you for speaking out, for sharing this. Maybe it will help one woman to realize that things can be heard on the other side of the door and no one is the better for staying.
((hugs)))
I went through the exact same thing and it hurts to read your eloquently put words. I commend you for having the strength to write this and share your story with us. I know how difficult it is to open up about this and make people understand just how impacting this is to a child.
Thank you. <3
To have the innocence and wonder of childhood ripped away is so horrible. I’m sorry. I hope and pray that somehow you have been able to find a way to make this awful experience strengthen you.
Peace
This breaks my heart. I’m so sorry you had to go through this.
Oh I can’t imagine. Thank you for sharing….
I want to give that little girl a hug. No one should have to feel that alone…thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your heart. For painting a picture of life in your childhood home. For giving us a chance to love the little girl who heard those things and felt those fears. For letting us support you as you heal, too. I am proud of you for speaking out! *HUG*
Gah. Beautifully told. Thank you for sharing. I think you have helped, and will help, mothers know that they should leave.
Not your fault. Sending gentle hugs for your young self.
I think people forget that abuse in the family touches everyone. You don’t have to be directly abused to be scarred for life, to feel innocence die, to never be able to trust or feel safe again. You’ve done a brave thing, sharing this, when it is a very different story from most told on this site. People need to hear it though. Good on you.
Thank you for sharing this. It brought back so many memories. It’s like you were telling my story. I was that little girl and too this day cannot get rid of the get guilt. Your story has brought me just a little closer to peace and forgiveness.
thank you for sharing your story.
I am struck by your post. It is an incredibly calm yet horribly chaotic read that leaves me with thoughts that I am not familiar with. Thank you for sharing. I am moved… inspired and motivated to make sure everyone knows of this resource.
D
Thank you for sharing your story……….I was that little girl too, I am so sorry that you were also.In many of the stories I read here, I have found a little peice of myself in……………perhaps the ability to sit and write my own will come soon, you have helped more than you know………………..Blessings to you and HUGS, and wishes for peace , joy and happiness in your life
Thank you for sharing your story……….I was that little girl too, I am so sorry that you were also.In many of the stories I read here, I have found a little peice of myself in……………perhaps the ability to sit and write my own will come soon, you have helped more than you know………………..Blessings to you and HUGS, and wishes for joy and happiness in your life