[Dad hit mom.]
His mother was busy cooking dinner. His father, a police officer had yet to be done with his work and would come late. His mother had helped him do the homework and gave him a delicious snack to eat before dinner. His lunch had been taken by the stream of boys who had made it their mission to tease him. He really enjoyed sitting by and watching his mother cook. She was a beautiful lady. Having run away from home with her high school sweetheart, the woman got pregnant soon and found herself strapped with a baby. No college education and a baby on board meant that she would be staying in the house, taking care of the household duties while her husband took care of bringing in money.
Money was tight all the time, but they managed. Howard didn't feel like they lived poorly. Sure, they didn't have their personal car or a fancy house like some others in his school, but he lived a comfortable life.
When his dad got home, he would have run to him and showed him the picture he had drawn in class, or the many things he had learned, but instead, he silently got off the stool and came to a stand in front of his dad, who looked very grim.
"Are you done with your homework?" Nod.
There were no more words said to the boy. Instead, his father turned to his mother and started speaking.
"Why has dinner not been cooked yet?" he asked, half-yelling.
Howard flinched, but his father caught his action before he could correct his posture.
"Do you have something to say, boy?" he urged, his voice menacing. It was only then that Howard realized that the distasteful scent coming from his father was a sign of his bad temper. Usually, when he smelled that way, he would yell and scream at him for coming too early and ruining his life. It was not every day, but he was gentle when he didn't stink.
"No," he said softly, not wanting to alarm his father, but that was the exact effect his words had.
"Did you just talk back to me?" His scream was deafening. Howard wondered if his bullies would be able to hear his father screaming and tease him the next day. Again. He wondered if they would call his father bad names.
Kids are impressionable and they don't know what is right or wrong. They grow up to be adults with a skewed view of life, their childhoods shaping what they think to be normal. That day was normal for Howard. He grew up in his small life, watching this happen often. His father was his father. His mother was his mother. And he was their son. Their family was dear and everything would be alright if they didn't disappear from his life.
The strike came as soon as his father was done with his rant. His head swivelled at the force, he stumbled, his tiny body unable to take the strike of his brute father. He didn't cry, but his mother did. She flew towards them, the spoon from tasting the food still in her hand, hoping to protect her child.
"Stop it!" She screamed and leapt towards them. She positioned herself between them, ready to take the blows.
"That is my child," his father sneered and said. "I can beat him if I want." He shoved her away, his angered coming with renewed force. He kicked the little boy, making sure to hit the ribs. Jolted, the boy lay on the floor, hoping the pain would go away.
He knew if he was quiet the pain would stop.
Yet his mother didn't understand that she only aggravated him further. Her body came between them again. And the sounds of his kicks echoed in the room, his angry slurs and punched followed. She took them gladly, hoping she would protect her child for a little longer.
She stood in front of the mirror, her face looking less like her own with every passing day. She had grown old over the few years she had stayed with the man, but she couldn't find it in herself to run away.
"Don't be like your father," her voice rang out as she patted her son to sleep. Howard dazedly listened to the words but couldn't make out the meaning. "Don't be like your father," she repeated. He fell asleep.
That night he dreamt that he protected his mother, that he fought away the monster who had tried to kill them.
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