For years, these walls have been my only sanctuary from the evils of the world outside. I knew my mother was right when she told me that here in this room, I would be safe, so I didn't understand why she never came with me when he came home, drunk and swearing. I never understood why she put up with his violent attitude, harsh language, and ceaseless belittling, yet she did. I guess it must have been going on before I was born, but I don't remember it happening before my second birthday.721Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL8yNex9QCc
He came home, smelling of cheap booze. Mother ushered me into my room, pointing to the closet. I didn't understand her reasoning, yet I hid where she instructed, peaking through the door as the fight unfolded before my eyes.I saw him strike her again, and again. I covered my ears, not wanting to hear the yelling, crying, or cursing that was occurring outside, because inside these walls I was safe from the war outside.
I'm thirteen now, and the war still goes on outside my door, and every time I hide in the safety of my closet, safe from his rage. Tonight would be different, because no longer would I let Mother be a victim, no longer would she suffer. I know that the news would try to pass me off as a monster, murderer, but they wouldn't see the truth, the truth that villains choose the dark side when they are tired of being victims of the light.
For years, I've lived the lie that he built, sheltered inside this cage that he called a house. For years I've kept quiet, but this has gone on to long, and someone has to do something. If standing up for someone who is defenseless is villainous and makes me the bad guy, I'll accept that. Because really, who gets to decide who the villain is, and who the hero is? There's too sides to every story. To my mother, I will become a hero, but in the eyes of the law I will be a villain, a common criminal. I won't say I didn't do it, but I will say he deserved what I plan to do the moment he steps through those doors. I'm not a little boy anymore, and I'm done hiding while the rest of the world watches and mocks my mother, never defending her. Tonight, things will be different. I'm a man now, and tonight I'm playing villain.
Here he is now, stepping through the doorway. I pick up the phone, and put it on speaker. I know that as the curtain falls, I will hear the sound of sirens, see the flashing lights of blue, and know that I will turn myself over to them, adding my name to the list of murderers throughout our nations history. So, who will write the newspaper article about me? Will they write me as a victim of a dysfunctional family? Or as a hero? No, they will write me as a villain, though the true villain's story has be silenced forever.
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Author's Note: this is actually an edited, shortened version of a longer piece I've written, yet haven't posted to my account due to the graphic nature as well as subject matter that was removed from the original story to make this lower age rated and subject appropriate piece721Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6EvqLxmOCG
