He Hit Me: A Short Story

“He hit me again, again, again and again,” I whispered across the room to my brother Sam. His light hair was wet and his blue eyes where dull. We were both 15 years old. We were twins and we had to share a room. We had beds across from each other, and I we quietly conversed every night.

“He burned the back of my neck with mom’s curling iron, 3 days ago, and it still feels like the sun is sitting there.”

“We have to do something, tell someone.”

“Olivia we can’t,”

“If you tell anyone you will regret it, I will make your life so miserable that you will want to jump off a bridge and get eaten by a blood thirsty shark.” His harsh shout in the dark made his gruff voice sound like thunder.

I shivered; just hearing his voice scared the life out of me. You never knew when or what he was going to do to you. Sam was always scared the abuse would go too far, that he would end up hurting us so badly that we would have to go to the hospital, but mom always managed to stop him before it got to severe.

“Brad please, stop all this, I can’t handle seeing you harm my children any longer,” we heard mom’s quiet whimper come from behind the closed door.

“Julie it is not my fault it is Lily and Sam, they push me too far.”

“NO they don’t, yesterday I caught you burning Sam’s neck for no reason! If only,” her voice faded away “this never would have happened.”

A sickening sound made its way under the door and to our ears, he had smacked her. If Dad was here this never would have happened, that is what she was going to say. I knew the sound because Brad smacks Sam and I all the time.

Mom slipped into our room quietly, when the moonlight shone on her I could see that her face was red and I could tell she had been crying. The tears were still streaking down...

... middle of paper ...

...e, even after the sirens were out of hearing range. They finally let me go, I walked to the edge of the drive way, collapsed onto the wet grass and cried, Micah put her hand around my shoulder, her soft, green eyes calmed me down, we hugged, her light brown hair was soft on my skinned hands, I had hit the ground over and over in frustration, I didn’t ever want to let go, the only reason I did was because my mom came out of the house with two more paramedics. She smiled slightly as I slowly approached. I touched her hand, and gingerly stroked her hair. I was now the adult, I had to now take care of her. She was gaunt and walked with a slight limp. I was ready to talk. It was time. I almost ran across the yard.

The police men took me to the station and Officer Louise took me into a small room. She calmly told me that they were recording everything I said.

“He hit me.”