He knew what was coming next. It was always the same thing coming next, it would never be any different. He cowered on his bed, brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, embracing himself for what was going to happen next. He could hear the heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs and the heavy grunt as he forced open the door and stood in the hallway, a look of hate etched upon his face.
“There you are, you little fucker.” Adam looked up to see his father looming at the door. His father slammed the door shut and walked over to Adam’s bed, his footsteps heavy from the boots that he was wearing – they were what caused the most damage to him. Adam’s body had already started shaking as his father drew nearer to him but he tried not to show it. His father did not like weakness and Adam had learned from the start that showing weakness would lead to more punishments.
His father grabbed him by the arm and threw him onto the floor with a laugh. Adam let out a small moan but knew better than to try to get up. He felt a heavy blow to his side and moved his head enough to see his father’s boot meet his side. Adam flinched from the pain but he didn’t dare scream. That would be another sign of weakness and that was something that his father thrived on. He loved being the man of the house, to punish those he saw fit to be punished. He got a kick from causing pain to those he said he loved. It wasn’t love; it was control. Adam knew that, even at his age.
After what seemed hours, but in actuality was really only about twenty minutes, Adam’s father grunted and left the room, leaving his son’s beaten and bloodied body on the floor. Adam couldn’t move, the pain was unbearable so he just laid there, hoping that his father would not come back to his room. He hoped that he had passed out from the alcohol, he would be safe for a while if his father was passed out. He wished that his mother would come up to make sure that he was okay. She sometimes did but she was too frightened of her husband to cross him, so she stayed downstairs as he abused their son.
Adam tried to get up but his body wasn’t strong enough to keep him upright, so he found himself laying back down on the floor until the pain subsided. The pain continued to shoot through his body and he felt sick. He could never be sick, that was another thing his father would punish him for. He remembered the first time he had been sick, his father had forced his head into the pile of vomit and made him eat some of it. Adam had wanted to be sick again but he knew the punishment would continue so he did as his father said, whilst his father sat aside and laughed at his young son.
As the pain coursed through his body he let the tears he had held back roll down his cheeks and curled up into a ball wishing that someone would come and rescue him. That someone would take him away from his father. He always imagined there was a superhero out there that would come in and take him away from this place. That would teach him how to become stronger and help him to fight the bad people. However, that never happened and he had to accept the reality that he was under the control of his abusive father. Adam was only six years old and couldn’t understand why his father would hurt him. Why he came into his room daily and abuse him. He wondered if there was something that he had done wrong that his father was punishing him for? Was his father not happy with him as a son? He had asked his mother why his father was hurting him and his mother replied that daddy was very ill and he didn’t know what he was doing. Adam then asked could the doctors fix him and his mother nodded but said that daddy needed to admit that he needed the help before the doctors were able to help. His mother shut off after that and Adam knew that he couldn’t ask any more questions.
Every night he laid in bed and prayed, although he never believed in God. If God did exist then why would he let an innocent child be abused? His mother always made him go to church on Sunday but he never paid attention any more. And yet he prayed. Prayed that someone would come and help him and every night he was left disappointed when he realised that no one would be coming for him. That this was going to be his life now, that his life was nothing but abuse, there was no escape for him.
He fell asleep curled up in a ball on the floor. He knew by morning the bruises would appear and the pain through his body would be worse but he just wanted to disappear into the world of darkness for a while; to forget what was happening to him.