When I was a little boy, my mother and father would fight daily. These were not ordinary fights. These fights would often lead to broken dishes or holes in the wall, and always... me crying in fear. I was about 4 years old. It's one of the few fights I can actually remember clearly, which is weird because I usually have difficulty remembering my early childhood. My mom was cleaning the house, which always caused her to get mad very easily because to her the house was always dirty. She wouldn't half-ass clean either, she would go all out!
Well in this one occasion, she was cleaning the bathroom in a violent manner. Screaming all sorts of things to my dad, siblings and even me. Our bathroom was very tiny, on the far end there was a small bathtub with a window that was about 1×1ft in size, we kept the shampoo, conditioner, and soap there. Next to bathtub, there was the toilet , then the sink (which brings back awful memories) ,and then finally the door, with very little space to move around.
My mom and dad were arguing about something insignificant.
As the two fought, my mom’s anger increased. After she finished cleaning the bathtub, she saw there was some dirt on the bathroom floor. She called my name “JORGE!!!”, I ran as fast as I could (it was smart not to keep her waiting). She indignantly grab me by my ear and threw me towards the floor. I don't recall exactly what she said, but it was alongs the lines of “ Thats fucken disgusting. You always dirt my my house!”.
I was afraid, scared, and terrified. I layed on the floor shaking in fear, thinking of what she might do. She looked for powerful and I felt so fragile.
It was as if time had froze. I couldn’t move, just lay there on the bathroom floor in horror. My slowness angered her, “ What the fuck are you waiting for? I said to clean it”.
Bam!
I received a powerful blow to the side of my face which almost sent me face first into the bathtub, but luckily it didn’t. “Clean it!” she screamed at me once more. I grabbed the wash-rag that she using, thankfully it was in arm's reach. I was so frantic I just started to clean it as if my life depended on it. As if I didn’t clean it well enough it was going to cost me my life.
To me, I was cleaning but to her I was just moving the washcloth back and forth like an idiot.
Bam! I received a second hit.
It was at that moment I realized that I wasn’t the one that left dirt on the bathroom floor. Besides fear, I now also experienced anger. Ironically not toward my mother - who had just slapped the shit out of twice - but to whoever's ass-whooping I was taking in their place.
My father had been watching and finally decided to speak up
“Belia, don’t hit him like that, can’t you see he’s just a boy”.
For some reason a lot of people called my mom by her middle name and not her first name.
My mom quickly fired back “ And what? He’s my damn kid”.
“Don’t you see how young he is?”
“I dont give a fuck”
He look at me, “ Get up and go to the living room”
My mom stared at me intensively, “ No, clean that shit up”.
Looking at the two choices given I choose to obey my mom. I feared her which is why I always chose her side. So I stayed right there where I was and continued to clean the bathroom floor, although I was grateful I no longer had her attention, my dad did.
They both threw harsh names towards one another. Not caring about each other's feelings anymore. Their relationship had been coming to an end for a while now. My mom has always had a sharp tongue, she knew exactly what to say to get anyone mad and she was very loud.
“If I’m telling him to do something, he’s going to do it!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to hit him!”
The thing my mom hated most was people challenging her, and that was exactly what my dad was doing. I could see my mom getting angrier and angrier. I started to get more scared, my mom’s hand was shaking with anger. She reached below the sink and grabbed a hammer, waving it as she spoke. I could tell my dad was scared… I could tell by the way he cautiously back away and his sudden silence.
“Belia, calm down!”
With full force - power and intention - she threw the hammer towards my dad. I couldn’t believe it. My oldest sister and brother were always joking around how one of them was going to kill the other one day. And today was that day. As I saw the impending hammer leave my mom’s hands, my heart dropped and I shut my eyes...I didn’t want to see my father die in front of me.
I heard the hammer crash against the wall. I opened my eyes and saw my dad had ducked, causing the hammer to do directly into the wall.
