help

I was about 6 years old and alone in my room staring out of the window. I'm not too sure, but I think it was about 4pm. My mom was in her bedroom lying on her bed. We had no power, so the apartment was deathly quiet. I stared out into the empty soccer field my window overlooked and wished there were some kids playing in it. Anything to watch besides the ants climbing up my window.

I thought about my older sister who was away at boarding school, and imagined how much fun I'd be having if she was home. She was really funny and would have me on the floor laughing all the time. I knew my mom would soon yell for me to get her another beer from the refrigerator, and I dreaded hearing that call. I didn't want to go in her room because all she did was snap and yell at me all the time. She and my father would fight constantly when he was home, and I was hoping he wouldn't come home soon because in the mood she was in, I knew they'd start up again, and my lip still hurt from when it got slammed against the wall the night before. I'd done exactly what my sister had told me a million and one times to stop doing; I'd tried to stop him from hitting her. I sucked on my lip softly and flopped backwards on to my bed reaching for a book on the side of my bed as I did so. I didn't know what book I’d get, but I kept a steady stash between my bed and the wall; Saved me having to get up to grab one from the yellow bookshelf on the other side of my room.

*"Sam!”, I heard my mom yell from her room. I sighed, answered with a not so loud "Yes mommy, I'm coming!", and hurried towards her before she'd have to yell again. That'd probably get her really mad, and I did not feel like having another slipper thrown at me. I walked into her bedroom and stood cautiously by the door. The drapes were all pulled and it was so dark in there, I could barely make out her form on the bed. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I realized that she was laying on her left side facing the other way; With her back to me. I knew then that I could get as close as I wanted because she wouldn't get mad. When she lay like that, she was crying. I climbed up on the bed and went and lay next to her as quietly as I could. As I settled in, I could make out her quiet sobs and her little whispers. "What am I going to do?" She cried over and over. Although I had to strain to hear her, I knew from past experience that she was crying really hard, so I put my hand on her right shoulder to let her know that I was there. With her.

With one very sudden, quick move, she rolled and flipped over to face me. Neither of us said anything, and as I laid there with my head on the pillow, with my eyes looking into hers, I couldn't help but cry too. I didn't know exactly why she was crying, but I knew it was because of my dad. I didn't know how, but I wanted to make things right. I reached out and put my hand in hers because I wanted to feel really close to her, and as I did this, she started to cry harder. Thinking I'd done something wrong, I tried to pull my hand back, but she held on to it really tightly and shook her head "no".

After a minute or two of both of us laying there crying, she sat up and wiped her face with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Sam, sit up" she said as she blew her nose. I sat up quickly, eager to do all I could to ease or soothe her pain somehow. She reached for my other hand and pulled me on to my knees. She got on her knees as well, and we both knelt there looking at each other, with our hands clasped. "Sam, I want you to listen to me very carefully, ok?" she asked. She leaned forward as she said this, and our faces were so close to each other that I remember looking at the red veins in her eyes and wondering if mine would turn that red if I cried all day too. "Yes Ma'am", I whispered back. "Sam, when you grow up, you don't EVER let a man treat you like your daddy treats me. You're going to grow up, go to college, and get job that pays so well that you'll be able to leave any man that would dare put his hands on you, or your children...right?...RIGHT???!!!!" She yelled that last word out with such... force that she unintentionally hit her forehead against mine. Hard. I wanted to rub it because it hurt, but I didn't. I couldn't. I seemed completely unable to look away from her eyes.

She made me promise her that I'd never settle when it came to men. That I'd find a man who would appreciate me and treat me like my dad was not treating her. Over and over, she made me promise, and over and over, I did. She cried hard and desperately as she explained to me that in ‘regular homes’, moms and dads did not fight like she and my dad did. She told me that I deserved better, and to always remember that no man who truly loved me would hit me or make me cry.

As I walked away from her bedroom later that night, I told myself that if any man ever touched me when I grew up, I would kill him with a knife. (Looking back now, I have NO clue why I thought of a knife...It's just one of those weird things, I guess) I told myself that if I had a boyfriend and a husband who EVER made me cry, I would leave him immediately. I wouldn't care why or how, and there'd be no second chances. I would pack up my things and leave; Like I wished my mom would.

It’s December 19th, 2006, and I'm now 28. It's 10:49pm, and I can't stop crying because my heart feels heavier than lead. I've of course learned how impractical my little 'vow' was back then. I've cried a million and one times over this man, and even though I 'did' pack up my stuff and leave when things deteriorated to a point where I started to fear for my sanity, I find that leaving didn't 'fix it'. I'm still crying... Does anyone know how to make the tears stop?

* Not my real name