Tag Archives: abuse

Somewhere Near You

The small boy was on red alert.  He smelled the peculiar smoke coming from the bathroom where his mom kept a little pipe above the medicine cabinet.

He never knew how long it would last, but he did know it meant trouble.  It was always the same, but always different.

He looked for food.  There were no crackers or candy under her bed where she hid it, but he found a can of beans in the pantry.  He desperately tried to open it before she got out of the bathroom, but his little fingers couldn’t manage to get the manual can opener to work.

He didn’t hear her coming out. It was too late by the time he did.  Angry, she shoved him to the ground and threw the can of beans striking him squarely in his chest.

As he shrunk toward the door, grabbing the can in a frantic backward crawl, she lunged toward him, grabbing, jerking his skinny, little body across the floor.  He was terrified.  The kind afraid where you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t cry.  The kind where every second felt like a year. Continue reading Somewhere Near You

Maybe For One

We sat in assigned seats.  She sat next to me.  I didn’t understand why she would keep her arms crossed, as if holding herself, and rock back and forth while looking down at her desk or staring at the blackboard.  Back and forth she rocked, back and forth.

We were in second grade.  I understand child abuse now, but then, I didn’t even know what it was.

Looking back, she did. Continue reading Maybe For One