He came crashing up the stairs,
wrecking havoc along his path. His bulky body thumped against the
wall and the staircase railing back and forth with every uneven step
he took.
In the room at the top of the
staircase, my eyelids flew open. I would recognize those muffled,
clumsy footsteps anywhere, even in my sleep. That was the sound I
dreaded the most. That was the sound I spent my waking hours worrying
about. That was the sound of the footsteps of a man whom I could not
bear to call my father.
As silently as I could, I got up from
my position at the foot of my mother’s queen-sized bed. A bed too
large for one person to sleep in. My mother looked so small sleeping
on her side of the bed, always leaving the other side empty, in the
hopes that that despicable man would one day climb back into bed and
lay by her side forever.
Oh, he comes back, all right. He comes
back after he has drunk himself into oblivion and pounds on my
mother’s bedroom door, demanding for money. I have begged her
countless times never to hand him any of her savings. I told her that
he would only spend it all on drugs and alcohol and come back for
more, but she wouldn’t listen to me. That poor old soul, she was so
blinded by a non-existent love that she would even give her life to
him if she had to.
I never worried much about my mother as
she always had ample money for that man. I always thought that he
would just take the money and leave, so I never bothered to include
myself in her twisted little affair.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
It wasn’t until late last month that
I realized something was amiss. Fresh bruises and cuts started
appearing on my mother’s skin every time that man visited. It was
as if blue roses were blooming on her skin, blotching its smooth
surface with angry spots and cuts. I questioned her about the bruises
and cuts, but she would always brush it aside and cook up a feeble
excuse. Well, she did not fool me. I knew what was going on and I was
going to make it stop.
I decided to take matters into my own
hands by sneaking into my mother’s room after she has fallen asleep
and sleeping at the foot of her bed so that if that man comes for
her, he would have to get past me first. We had a few peaceful
nights... until tonight.
I locked my mother’s bedroom door
from the inside as I left the room to face that monster, to protect
her. Immediately, my gaze landed on a man with a bloated stomach and
messy hair who had just landed on the top of the staircase, swaying
about , trying to balance himself against the railing. He smelled
like vomit and cigarettes. The sheer sight and smell of him filled me
with hatred and disgust. I wanted to push him down the flight of
stairs so badly.
Repressing those feelings, I walked
towards him and said as calmly as I could, “leave.” With his eyes
half-closed in a drunken stupor, he looked me over. “Don’t you
dare challenge me, son,” he said, his voice deep and his words
slurred. I glared at him, this ugly, resentful creature in front of
me. “I. Am. Not. Your. Son,” I spat each word at him as if they
were poison, “and leave my mother alone.”
Before I knew it, his fist came flying
towards me and landed squarely on my nose. Instantly, I felt a sharp
pain and blood came gushing out of my nostrils in an angry stream.
Enraged, I lifted my right fist, ready to throw a punch at him. But
before I could do it, his eyes widened in shock as he fell backwards,
tumbling down the flight of staircase.
“No one treats my son with violence
and gets away with it,” a voice said from my side.
Surprised, I turned to my left only to
find my mother standing there with a grim expression on her face. She
pulled me into an embrace before kneeling down to inspect my nose
from various angles, concern woven into the creases on her forehead.
“Are you okay? Gosh, I can’t believe I’ve been so blinded all
this time,” she muttered as she wiped my blood with her sleeve.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as
if a switch in her had flipped and suddenly, she had snapped out of
her fantasy world. The pain in my nose was nothing compared to the
joy I felt for my mother. I hugged her so tight that she laughed and
said, “okay now, you’re crushing my ribcage.”
We called the police and the ambulance
who whisked that sick man away in a stretcher. We even got a reward
from the police for turning in a wanted felon. Then, my mother drove
me to a nearby clinic to get my nose fixed. A smile was plastered on
my face the entire journey even though my nose hurt, because I knew
that from this point onwards in life, the future will be much
brighter for my mother and I. Just the both of us, with no one else
tying us down.
My mother glanced at me, caught my eye,
and smiled. It’s the start of something new.
Samantha Sim