The Toy

I saw Dad punch Mom in the face again. And again, when I asked my mom why dad did that to her, she replied, "He is just playing."

"Mom, are you bleeding?" I asked.

"No honey, I was eating ketchup. Now go on in your room and finish making your bed," she said.

"Why are you crying mommy?" I asked. "Did dad hurt you?"

"No, Jonathan. Daddy and I were talking," she replied. "Now be a good little boy. Listen to mommy and go to your room," she said.

Yesterday, I saw dad grab mommy by the hair and throw her to the ground. As he began beating her, he screamed at her, "You stupid bitch! I hate you! You are nothing without me!"

I would often look on as my mother's lips were swollen. Sometimes blood poured from her nose and sometimes her mouth.

At 6-years old, I often wondered why my dad would hurt my mother. I was equally confused as to how my dad could show up the very next day with a bouquet of red roses, give them to my mom and all would be fine again.

My teacher noticed that my mom often wore sunglasses when she'd pick me up from school. I overheard my teacher telling the principle that she is convinced that my mother wears the dark glasses to cover her bruises. My teacher called child protective services as she suspected domestic violence plagued our home.

When my teacher asked me if mommy and daddy fight at home, I told my teacher, "No, they talk alot and play fight." This is what I was told. Both my mother and father denied any and all allegations of abuse in our home. They put on this united front of us being a loving family. My mom begged me not to say a word about what I saw. I obeyed my mother. I cried for my mother and I also lied for my mother.

That night I prayed that God would stop my father from beating my mother. I didn't hear any fighting between my parents that night but I did hear my father making strange moaning noises while my mother kept on saying, "No!"

At 6 years old, I didn't know what rape was and I did not believe it to be possible for a husband to rape his wife or for a wife to rape her husband.

Just when I thought my prayers to God was working, was when it happened. Even though I was 6 years old, I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the screams, my heart pounding, the tears, the blood. I remember that day, blood was everywhere. On the floor, the kitchen counters and even some of my toys that were on the floor was splattered with blood.

That day, it started over my mom making a comment about how one of my dad's co-workers looked. In a jealous fit of rage, my dad punched my mom so hard in her right eye that it swelled like a potato. Having had enough, my mom came charging at my dad with a knife. My dad stabbed my mother in the back a few times.

I called the police that time. Fortunately, my mother survived that attack. Again, she begged me not to say a word about what my father had done.

"But mom dad keeps hurting you," I said.

"He is a good man, a hardworking man. All couples fight," she told me.

"Dad, should not hurt you Mommy, " I said. A pause. And mom shouldn't hurt Dad," I said.

My mother just looked at me and started crying.

"It's okay mommy," I said. "And I did not tell the police what I saw. I gave them my Night Owl."

"Your night owl?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, I told the police if they wanted to know, they should watch the tape," I said.

"What tape?" Mom asked.

"The tape in my owl, in the barn owl. The eye is a camera," I said. "Remember?"

"Oh my God!" My mom said. This caught her by surprise.

"Remeber I told Grandma, I wanted a night owl for Christmas?" I asked.

Dad was arrested for assault, battery, and domestic abuse. I don't remember feeling sorry for him. He was not a good man in my eyes. Even as a 6- year old boy, I know that hitting a girl is wrong.

After a year went by, my mom was comfortable to tell her story.

By telling her stories, as a survivor my mom is letting others know that it’s possible to overcome both the trauma and fear of domestic violence. She is using her experiences to help others, and showing that there is a way out. And I commend my mother for being so brave.