Wicked House: The Pain

Chapter four:

Previously:

I stood in front of my father and cried, “I know why you made me go to that school! Dad, when are you going to stop?”

He threw his glass of champagne and pulled out his belt.

“I don’t care if you hit me billion times! I care about you. Dad, mom, please. This is not the first time I beg you to stop drinking!” I yelled.

Then, as always, he started hitting me over and over again. The bruises on my body and face were back.

Seeing him hurting me everyday and seeing my mom carelessly watching us was probably the worst pain a human can ever go through.

When the closest people to you are the farthest to your heart.. really hurts.

I quietly went to the place my siblings were staying.

I smiled and hugged both of them, “Fahad, why do you look sad?” my sister asked. I answered,” I’m not sad, I just miss you guys.”

“No, you’re lying! I just want to remind you of what you told me, {one day the pain will go away.} “

I went back to school, but I saw a bench that was out of the school’s campus.

I sat on the bench and wrote:

‘I never asked you to be my Dad,

To slap me around and treat me bad.

I never asked you to drink alcohol,

I never asked for anything at all.

I never asked for the hurt and pain,

Or for the nights that were half insane.

I never asked for fights that were wild,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked you to beat up my Mom,

Or for a blanket to help keep me warm.

I never asked you to leave me alone,

Or to grow up in a broken down home.

I never asked for this horrible life,

Or for the conflicts, the quarrels and strife.

I never once asked that I be defiled,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked to be raised in prison,

Or to see darkness though the sun had risen.

I never asked you to raise Holy Hell,

Or for my bedroom to be like a jail cell.

I never asked to be used and abused,

Or to sit in my room dazed and confused.

I never asked for the crap that has piled,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked for a brand new bike,

Or for any toys that I used to like.

I never asked you to throw me a ball,

Or for the bruises when I took a "fall".

I never asked once but I'm asking you now,

I hope you make me understand somehow.

How you could treat me so freaking bad,

That I never asked you to be my Dad.

**

I smell the whiskey on your breath.

And you beg for me to put your temper to the test.

You slap me around and call me names.

Mom, I'm sick of playing these games.

One day it's going to end up getting worse.

It hurts me how you yell and curse.

Stop it, before it's too late.

Mom, this is not your fate.

You used to care.

You used to be there.

Now you've gone away.

Mom, please stop today.

Bruises and hits.

Temperamental fits.

All is causing me pain.

Mom, stop yelling. I'm not to blame.

You're drinking away what's left of you.

It's hurting me, and you're hurting me, too.

I've cried. I've begged. What more can I do?

Mom, I've tried to help. And I've tried to still love you.

It's hard when I'm only neglected.

When all I ever wanted was to be accepted.

I know I'm not perfect, but look at you now.

Mom, you've got to stop this somehow.

You've beaten me down once more.

My heart's broken, and I'm lying on the floor.

How much more of this can I take?

Mom, please. Give me a break.

You brought me into this life.

And you cause me all this strife.

But are you going to take me out of this world, too?

Mom, stop before that comes true.’

The End.

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(A note: young children who suffered with alcohol addict parents wrote these two poems.)