The Daughters Story

The Daughters Story

His blond mushroom cut hair hangs into his eyes and he wipes it away with his small soft hands.

He kneels by the side of his bed in his blue and red Spider-man pj’s. In the dark bedroom, he crouches and searches for the candle he hid under it a few nights ago and lets out a faint smile when he feels it beneath his bony fingers. He slides it out from under the bed along with daddy’s lighter which he hopes daddy doesn’t notice is gone before it can be replaced. He lights the candle and puts it on the chest of drawers next to his bed. In its faint light the clock on the wall reads 23:40.

Mommy usually goes to sleep at 21:00, right after she tucks him into bed gently kissing and singing her baby boy to sleep. By now her dreams have swept her from this world over the rainbow and daddy, he went to sleep hours ago, drunk but asleep. With the distant sound of a cars alarm and dogs barking he continues, sliding a piece of paper from under the bed sheets in front  of him, he unfolds it cautiously as if touching the wings of a beautiful butterfly, trying hard not to break it or make a sound.

By the light of the candle his cold grey eyes move effortlessly over the words as if memorised and he returns the page to where it was found. A sudden creak in the floor boards cause him to freeze with fear. He looks handsome as the golden candle light glazes his cheeks and creates shadows of his small nose and the tiny upturned corners of his mouth and soft pink lips. His hair once again falls into his eyes but he doesn’t wipe it away, too afraid to move he waits, waits until his heartbeat steadies and breathing slows, until he’s completely convinced that there is no one outside the bedroom door. When he is, he lets out a soft breath of relief and continues. Placing his elbows on the bed in front of him he clasps his hands and starts to pray:

“Dear Lord I know that mommy prayed already tonight but I want to ask a special favor, I go to church every Sunday and really do listen to what the pastor is saying and I don’t fall asleep like the others only when I’m really tired form cleaning the garden that daddy never does, I’m saying this cause, well because, I know I shouldn’t ask anything I don’t deserve.”

He’s quiet for a long while, pulling his lips tightly together, frowning, as if the hardest part is now right in front of him. His deep tense frown relaxes and a single tear spills onto his cheek form the corner of his eye.

“Lord, Mommy is like an angel and she is very smart.”

 Pausing once more he reflects upon his next words.

“I don’t like it when daddy hits her, when he tells her his been with other woman and I hate it Lord when I have to see my mommy cry. So Lord give me the strength to do what I’m gonna and the courage to handle what happens after.”

He opens his grey eyes, now filled with tears, and slides his hand under the bed once more pulling out the missing kitchen knife.

He blows out the candle and hides it under the bed bare footed he walks to the door he opens it without a sound as if it was practiced over and over. He slips out not closing the door behind him and makes his way their room. A streak of light spills onto the bedroom floor, but mom and dad don’t wake.

That night I lay in our bedroom, paralyzed with fear, my pillow wet with salty tears.

I am only 3 years old and can do nothing to stop my 9 year old brother.

So I squeeze my eyes shut as he re enters the room with bloody hands and no knife

He kneels in front of the bed once more. With my eyes shut I listen carefully to the last sentence in his whispered prayer. 

“Now Lord, Mommy can be with You in heaven.”