Gather round boys and girls it’s story-time and I have a tale to tell. Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl did not know love, she didn’t know how to smile, she thought of laughter as a folktale and pain a reality. This girl gave life to rain forest, her irises the clouds swollen with her untold sorrows.
One day the girl who knew nothing but sadness met a boy. This boy was wonderful. This boy was the icing on the disaster and trauma truffle cake, the cherry on the suffering and shame banana split. He was the sun shining above the eye of the hurricane. To put it simply he was magic.
He introduced her to living. Showed her what it was like to fly, what it was a was like to breath above water. Then he introduced her to his fist. No longer flying but floating, she went from the sea to space trading drowning for suffocation. He trapped her in his gravity and tricked her into thinking she was weightless. Told her she wasn’t worthless as long as she had him, that she was made to be nothing without him. This boy turned her into a fraction of herself, and he was the dominator. This boy turned her face from brown, to red, to blue, to black, to purple, her body a rainbow featuring the colors of his anger. She became the canvas to his finger painting. He the master and she the puppet. He always pulled her strings to hard no matter what she said.
The girl grew tired. She didn’t have a choice she told herself, because if she did why would she choose to be a shell of the woman she once was. Her heart retreated and her smile vacated and her peace of mind took a long walk off a short pier. He destroyed her will. destroyed her spirits, destroyed hope. ***** the rain forest, he caused her to turn deserts into oceans, drizzles into storms, New York is now Atlantis. There is no happy ending to this story boys and girls. She is still in his gravity. She still suffocates. He still pulls her strings, and her smile has not returned. And I’m starting to think it never will.

an angry artist wouldn't trade his inkling
for another tattoo but an ape has witnessed
a dire death formula in parlor of lies
that skins their teeth to wetness this endless summer  
as such demise in latitude will vaporize her longing
still surmised a fatherly club with a choke hold

As I watched my mother get beat,  as a child,  I was convinced that if I were to call the cops something bad would happen.
I have watched my father slam my mother in a car door.
I have watched as my father threw pans at my mother.
I have seen my mother walk out covered in bruises.
I have seen my father break a printer with my mother's head.

I remember running to my room crying and covering my head with a pillow. Hearing him curse at her calling her every bad name he could think of. My brother and I would blare the radio and still hear screams of my mother,  as she was beaten.

We were young when it started out; I don't remember a period of time when it was not happening.

My mother tried to leave him time and time again. My brother and I begged of her. Just leave him, we would cry.

She was with him 18 years. She was put through Hell for 18 long years.

Peoples first assumption is why didn't she leave, why didn't she stay away. This was a question that,  even to me,  was hard to see; I just recently was able to understand and see what was wrong with this picture.

She was beat physically but she was abused emotionally as well. People only tend to see what they can literally see and forget what is laying behind the bruises. Day after day she was degraded, called names, told she was worthless. She began to belive it. It was now in her head that she was worthless and no one would love her. No one would put up with her, she was a *******; or so she thought.

Taking the courage to leave that is a lot, she was mentally unfit for certain jobs and her health began to decrease. She was a woman who felt that she could not succeed or provide for her children without my father, or another man.

Leaving my father for the last time was the hardest thing that I believe she had to do. She wasn't just leaving anyone. It was the father to her children, the man she has relied on for 18 years, the man that had her believing she was worthless. He done everything except brainwashing to get her to stay.

Also, my father is kind sweet and caring to everyone outside of our family. Even to our family he was nice but he had times were things of this nature,  behind closed doors, would happen.
My immediate family was not the only ones who knew he beat my mom. Everyone on my fathers side of the family knew. They always made excuses or turned their heads. Some people on my moms side had questioned it but she always made excuses because she thought that she loved him.

Domestic violence is nothing to joke about. Everyone should know the signs and report anything suspicious. There are a few things to know. The person being abused has to want help to get out. The cops and social workers can not do anything unless the abused come forward when approached about it. The exception to that is when there is kids involved, like in my situation.

Domestic abuse hotlines:
1-800-799-7233 | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

Not sure if it's abuse?:
http://www.thehotline.org/is-this-abuse/