Romans 8:28" And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose."
The whimpering sounds of a small child drifted from a dark corner at the end of a narrow hall.
No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, she could still see her daddy’s fists pounding on her mother’s body, and though the hellish sounds of flesh slapping flesh had long since ceased, the echo of her mother's pleas for mercy continued to linger in the dark places of her soul.
It was the smell of urine and the cold damp feel of her panties that prompted her to sneak slowly to the room she shared with her brothers.
Out of the shadows she slowly crept, shivering, afraid, listening with each step.
It was an eerie torturous melody, a mixture of her daddy's rasp and laborious snoring, and the soft moans of her mothers pain mingling with her own faint whimpering.
Slipping quietly past the doorway, her glance resting first on her mommy, the way her body was curled up so tightly, and then to her daddy, his large frame all splayed out, only a few short feet from one another, yet even in her child like heart, even in her innocence, she knew of no greater distance.
As the young mother of eight struggled in vain for consciousness, her soft moans of pain mingled with the whimpering sounds of the little girl as she made her way, down the narrow, dimly lit hall.
The partly opened door allowed enough light for her to see the dim outline of her two brothers, her older brother bringing his finger to his lip and glancing down at their younger brother Angelo, sleeping in his embrace.
Slipping out of her clothes, she pulled aimlessly from a mound of laundry. Wrapping herself in the first available garment, she gently slid into bed. Laying in the soft comfort of the mattress she stared out into the murky darkness, trying hard to allow her imagination to run free, too some how turn the shadowy objects looming about the room into wonderful happy things.
Pretending, as she would every night, that God’s angels would be encamped around their room, allowing her and her brothers to sleep in safety. This night though, her mind would not be solaced, even the quiet steady breathing of her baby brother could not reach her frightened, sad heart. It was some where between tears and darkness, that fear gave way to exhaustion and she slept.
She awoke to see the bright rays of a new day forcing its way through the torn and dusty curtains that hung in vain attempts to cover the only window in their tiny room.
The sounds of insistent pounding coming from the front of the house brought her out of any lingering early morning webs of sleep. Looking intently at the bed room door, hoping that it would some how reveal what lay just beyond its deceivingly protective stance, her mothers voice penetrated her thoughts.
Hearing her mother address her father, she realized someone was at the front door. Her mother exclaimed loudly to her father; “Joey what do I tell them, they will see my face.” As her father walked down the long narrow hall, he replied over his shoulder, his voice becoming alarmingly clear as he neared the bedroom his children slept in; “Tell them I am not here, that you have not seen me since last night.”
Watching the turning knob, she unknowingly woke her brother, as she gripped his hand that had lay with in her grasp for many of the last few hours.
They looked at each other as their father came into the room. He looked at them from a red and swollen face, squinting as he raised his hand in attempts to block the bright light piercing the shreds of fabric that haphazardly covered the window. Bringing his finger towards his lips he motioned them to be quiet.
They looked at one another in complete silence, listening intently to the conversation taking place at the front of the house. It was apparent that the police officers were not easily appeased by the feeble attempts of explanation from the young and recently battered woman.
Something close to hope glimmered in their hearts, watching as their father became more and more agitated. The little girl being more attuned to her father’s moods sensed something different; something she thought was solely hers. Amazed that anyone would be able to inflict upon her father the very thing he seemed to continually inflict upon her, fear.
It was with an evil like glee that she now enjoyed the discomfort that seemed to envelop her father. She watched intently as he began to pace frantically, his hand violently running through his hair, as his thoughts so openly played across his face. It was not hard to decipher the commotion coming from the front of the house, it was followed by the determined heavy steps of two impatient men, and her mother’s voice ringing out in vain attempts to sway the officers from searching the home. At the sound of the officers emanate approach the children watched in shock as the man whom had the ability to shake their world, dropped to his knees and then to his belly as he scurried across the floor in an attempt to hide his rather large frame under the small, yet seemingly adequate bed.
The officer entered the room with extreme caution, gun drawn, arms extended, one arm supporting the other as he aimed his weapon. He quickly scanned the room, his glance coming to rest on three small children huddled upon the bed, expressions of amazement and awe looking back at him. Turning to leave, content with his search, he caught a glimpse of movement, stopping , he watched as the small girl pulled on the blanket that had half covered the bed and half covered the floor, revealing a large shoeless foot of the man he presumed they were searching for. His partner arriving at the door to the overcrowded filthy room quickly assisted his partner in removing the children and placing the large man under arrest.
Pressing her small face in to the glass pane she watched as the big men in blue uniforms took away the bad man, the monster, her daddy.
Twenty five years later............................
Please be sure to read: "The Testimony" By Janie Bradley
Pretending, as she would every night, that God’s angels would be encamped around their room, allowing her and her brothers to sleep in safety. This night though, her mind would not be solaced, even the quiet steady breathing of her baby brother could not reach her frightened, sad heart. It was some where between tears and darkness, that fear gave way to exhaustion and she slept.
She awoke to see the bright rays of a new day forcing its way through the torn and dusty curtains that hung in vain attempts to cover the only window in their tiny room.
The sounds of insistent pounding coming from the front of the house brought her out of any lingering early morning webs of sleep. Looking intently at the bed room door, hoping that it would some how reveal what lay just beyond its deceivingly protective stance, her mothers voice penetrated her thoughts.
Hearing her mother address her father, she realized someone was at the front door. Her mother exclaimed loudly to her father; “Joey what do I tell them, they will see my face.” As her father walked down the long narrow hall, he replied over his shoulder, his voice becoming alarmingly clear as he neared the bedroom his children slept in; “Tell them I am not here, that you have not seen me since last night.”
Watching the turning knob, she unknowingly woke her brother, as she gripped his hand that had lay with in her grasp for many of the last few hours.
They looked at each other as their father came into the room. He looked at them from a red and swollen face, squinting as he raised his hand in attempts to block the bright light piercing the shreds of fabric that haphazardly covered the window. Bringing his finger towards his lips he motioned them to be quiet.
They looked at one another in complete silence, listening intently to the conversation taking place at the front of the house. It was apparent that the police officers were not easily appeased by the feeble attempts of explanation from the young and recently battered woman.
Something close to hope glimmered in their hearts, watching as their father became more and more agitated. The little girl being more attuned to her father’s moods sensed something different; something she thought was solely hers. Amazed that anyone would be able to inflict upon her father the very thing he seemed to continually inflict upon her, fear.
It was with an evil like glee that she now enjoyed the discomfort that seemed to envelop her father. She watched intently as he began to pace frantically, his hand violently running through his hair, as his thoughts so openly played across his face. It was not hard to decipher the commotion coming from the front of the house, it was followed by the determined heavy steps of two impatient men, and her mother’s voice ringing out in vain attempts to sway the officers from searching the home. At the sound of the officers emanate approach the children watched in shock as the man whom had the ability to shake their world, dropped to his knees and then to his belly as he scurried across the floor in an attempt to hide his rather large frame under the small, yet seemingly adequate bed.
The officer entered the room with extreme caution, gun drawn, arms extended, one arm supporting the other as he aimed his weapon. He quickly scanned the room, his glance coming to rest on three small children huddled upon the bed, expressions of amazement and awe looking back at him. Turning to leave, content with his search, he caught a glimpse of movement, stopping , he watched as the small girl pulled on the blanket that had half covered the bed and half covered the floor, revealing a large shoeless foot of the man he presumed they were searching for. His partner arriving at the door to the overcrowded filthy room quickly assisted his partner in removing the children and placing the large man under arrest.
Pressing her small face in to the glass pane she watched as the big men in blue uniforms took away the bad man, the monster, her daddy.
Twenty five years later............................
Please be sure to read: "The Testimony" By Janie Bradley
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