“Please, you’re hurting her. She’s only 8 years old.” my mother pleaded for her drunken boyfriend to stop hitting me, just because I didn’t wash the dishes properly.
“Joe, she can’t survive another hit, please stop!” she yells again, but he kept hitting me, telling me how useless I am.
“You will never be able to stand up for yourself. Just like your father, you are useless. You will never find a man that will love you, only abuse you,” he shouts. I can’t even lift my head with blood surging out of my mouth. My ribs were full of bruises and my mother was crying for her useless abusive boyfriend to stop hurting me.
“You want more? I can go all-new night, little girl,” he yells while he gulps a bottle of whiskey. My mother is sitting at the table, crying, but she’s not stopping him. I guess she’s just as weak as me.
I can’t open my eyes, my jaws feel like it’s broken and my small tiny body is curled up on the floor in the small kitchen. My mother works as a server and earns little to nothing, and her jackass of a boyfriend spends most of the little money she earns on booze and drugs.
“What women? What? Do you want to lie next to your daughter? You’re both useless.” he yells at my mother, who is crying no stops.
I’m 8 years old and can’t defend myself, but my mother can defend me, but she’s choosing to stay with this abusive man. For what reason, I will never know.
My father loved her. Why she turned to a man like this, I will never understand.
“Get up you little brat, clean this kitchen, and you stop crying.” he shows his finger towards my mother who is still sitting on the broken chair in the small kitchen.
“One day, when you're old enough, you will find out that no one will ever love you. Stand up!” he yells so hard that my ears are buzzing with pain. I struggle to stand up, my ribs are bruised and my legs can barely hold me with the pain and trembling I’m feeling.
I could actually finally stand tall till he whacked me onto the floor again.
Mother is still just sitting there, crying, not saying anything to him anymore, probably too scared she will get beaten as well.
I glared at him and decided that one day I will come back for you and you will pay for what you did to me.
............
That was 12 years ago. My name is Emily Dawson and I still don’t know how to defend myself. I went to medical school and learn how to help helpless people. That’s the only place I feel I can defend people who can’t defend themselves.
I had way too many patients who came into the ER who got abused by their husbands, boyfriends and even school children.
Of course, it brings back all the memories from when I was 8 years old, and sometimes I would find my way to the doctor’s lounge breaking down in tears. All the memories killed me inside, and ever since I was 8 years old, I have never switched off the memories. I could never get used to abuse, and I never dared to fight anyone back.
I left my mother with the jackass when I turned 18 years old and left my hometown and never returned home.
She never left him, not even for me, even though he abused both of us.
She believed she would never find a man again after the death of my father. Well, that’s what he made her believe.
He mentally and physically abused both of us. We would never be loved, and my mother never broke free from that.
I don’t think I ever did. I still get nightmares. The only time I have the power to help someone that gets abused is to call the police and get satisfaction when they drag the person’s ass out of the hospital, even though some women deny the abuse. I know how it looks when someone lies about abuse and tries to cover it up.
My shift was finally over, and I could finally go home. The only problem is I have to walk home tonight. I don’t have a lift tonight because of working overtime.
I walked down the alley, the only noise was the wind and the homeless man making noise fighting each other for a place to sleep.
I don't have a choice but to walk down this alley. It is the closest route to my flat.
The only way to get rid of your fear is to face your fear until the three-man jumped me, and my fear returned with all the memories I’m trying to lock away.
“I swear I don’t have a credit card, take my cellphone and my purse. Please, just don’t hurt me.” I pleaded with the guy with the mask on, and the other one kept kicking me.
The other one searches my body like I’m some kind of whore.
“Please, just take what you want. I don’t have anything else.”
“Shut up, bitch.” the blood is flowing like a river out of my mouth. I can feel my ribs crack one by one as the person keeps kicking me. My vision became blurry. They kept hitting and kicking me until I could no longer focus on the pain anymore.
I remember my stepfather used to keep telling me, “You're weak. You will never be able to defend yourself.”
“What, you’re here to rescue the princess?” the guy said. I opened my swelling eyes long enough to see another man standing over my body.
“You better leave, or we’ll all end up in jail. You for hurting this woman, and me for killing you.” the robber started laughing. I could see his feet coming closer to kick me again, but in a second all three of them were lying on the ground.
“I’ve got you.” the unfamiliar man said while he picked me up and held my head in his arms. The blood is still flowing out of my mouth and I can nearly breathe with the bruises on my body.
“I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No! No hospitals,” I begged.
My stepfather would only glow if he knew I was jumped and almost beaten to death.
“ You are bleeding pretty badly, and your ribs might be broken.” he kept holding me.
“I said no hospitals.” Before I could explain that I’m a nurse, I passed out in his muscular arms.
.............