Name: Alien Race 2006-10-21 1:44
There was a lot of violence in my childhood. My father was a very passionate man and he kept beating my mother for many years. I never actually saw it, but I heard it on many occasions.
He did it regularly, in fact, every few days.
He wasn't even a drunk, he did it in cold blood, fully aware of what is going on.
Usually it was because he wanted something. At the time, I wasn't sure what it was, but it must have worked.
He would start politely. He would bring her flowers and other gifts, they would dance and watch movies on VHS. But then, after I wen't to sleep, he would begin his reign of horror. He tortured her. I still remember those hellish screams of terror that my mother released. Even after she submitted to his demands, shouting "Yes! Yes! Yes!", he continued to torture her until she couldn't take it any longer and gave out a final howl of defeat. It could take hours before that would happen. I had horrible nightmares those nights. I dreamt that I was visiting hell, where damned souls were being spanked and whipped.
In the morning, when my mother came out of the bedroom, I aften saw red marks on her neck, mementos of her torment. Once, I was able to see my father inflicting these wounds, which he did by actually biting her.
Those mornings, my mother was always in a suspiciously jovial mood and she seemed unusually nice to everyone. Most of all, to my father. But I could see past that charade. She wanted it to look as if everything was ok; to blind me from the problem in their marriage, the problem of our family.
My father is a monster, and she tried to cover for him.
He did it regularly, in fact, every few days.
He wasn't even a drunk, he did it in cold blood, fully aware of what is going on.
Usually it was because he wanted something. At the time, I wasn't sure what it was, but it must have worked.
He would start politely. He would bring her flowers and other gifts, they would dance and watch movies on VHS. But then, after I wen't to sleep, he would begin his reign of horror. He tortured her. I still remember those hellish screams of terror that my mother released. Even after she submitted to his demands, shouting "Yes! Yes! Yes!", he continued to torture her until she couldn't take it any longer and gave out a final howl of defeat. It could take hours before that would happen. I had horrible nightmares those nights. I dreamt that I was visiting hell, where damned souls were being spanked and whipped.
In the morning, when my mother came out of the bedroom, I aften saw red marks on her neck, mementos of her torment. Once, I was able to see my father inflicting these wounds, which he did by actually biting her.
Those mornings, my mother was always in a suspiciously jovial mood and she seemed unusually nice to everyone. Most of all, to my father. But I could see past that charade. She wanted it to look as if everything was ok; to blind me from the problem in their marriage, the problem of our family.
My father is a monster, and she tried to cover for him.