Darren swiped his clammy hands on his phone screen to decline his mom’s call and shoved it back into the pocket of his khaki cargo shorts after rubbing off the smear of sweat with his shirt sleeve. He ignored his mom’s previous two calls because he still couldn’t believe what she had said to him that morning. Her bitter voice made his eyes sting and water. After all that they had went through together, she pushed him away. He shook his head in disappointment, but couldn’t block out the sound of her strained voice.

It’s all your fault. This wouldn’t have happened if you would have kept your mouth shut, he remembered. All he ever wanted to do was help his mother, the woman who had tended to him when he was sick and made him happy when he was sad. Who had wiped his tears and healed his wounds. Though he had wounds that could never heal, wounds that were permanently etched in his soul, she always managed to make him feel better. It tore him apart that she allowed him to treat her like she means nothing, less than a dog, when she meant the world to Darren. He wanted to care for his mother and treat her the way she deserved to be treated, wipe her tears, and bring an ice pack for her throbbing head, and love her. But there have been times, times like these, when he had ignored her need for him out of spite. He didn’t deny that he was nervous when he left her side. He didn’t deny that he was terrified about what would happen to her when he left for school. He hated the thoughts he’d get after leaving her. How many more bruises will she have when I get back? How many hours will she be unconscious for? What if he hits my sister too? Though for the life of him, he couldn’t see passed his pride. 

Darren sunk down into his chair and rested his head on his crossed arms that laid on the oak desk in front of him. For a moment, the classroom was quiet for the remainder of the period and the hum of the air conditioner soothed him to sleep like the hum of his mother when he was a child. He started to drift off to sleep when he began to think of his mom’s soft voice. Her caramel colored skinny arms rocking his small toddler body to sleep at night as she looked at him with a head full of short and unkempt cherry black hair and loving eyes. She was an absolute goddess.

Her hair has grown. He thought and smiled. His small smile quickly turned to a scowl and his opened eyes yanked him into the reality of his memories. He cut her hair. 

Darren sat up quickly as anger pulsed through his veins and through his body. Calm Down, he reminded himself. He could never let his anger get the best of himself because it would only cause more problems, but he couldn’t stop his mind from remembering the evil look in his father’s eyes when he looked at his beautiful mom. 

She had dressed up that day to please him, but he was far from pleased. Believing that she was dressed up for someone else, he strode over, his eyes locked with hers, and slapped her. She whimpered as he grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her to look at him. Then he whispered something into her ear and pushed her into the bathroom. Darren watched as his father cut her hair then spit on her nearly bald head and did absolutely nothing. 

“Mommy, are you okay?” Darren’s small voice asked.

“Of course, Darren. Nothing happened. Daddy was just giving me a haircut. I really needed one.” She said emotionless, with a sniffle.

“Then why did he spit in your hair?” Darren felt himself fill up with sadness for his mom.

“Everything’s fine. I have to clean the house now, my sweet baby boy,” she rested her hand on his warm cheek. “I’ll be done in a few hours. In the meantime, finish your homework okay?”

“Okay.” Darren said as she walked into the kitchen.

Darren felt his phone vibrating and frantically felt around his pockets for it. He quickly pulled it out and saw that his mom was calling again. 

“Mr. Wicks, may I use the bathroom?” Darren asked quietly with his buzzing phone in hand. 

“Go ahead.” Mr. Wicks dismissed Darren and returned his gaze back onto the computer screen in front of him.

The vibrating stopped and Darren grew increasingly worried for his mom. He grabbed his backpack and stalked out the door. As he made his way carefully through the back door to the school, his phone lit up with a notification of the missed call from his mom and a new voicemail. He pressed the phone against his face and listened to his sister’s panicked and quivering voice, “Darren! Please come home as fast as you can. It’s happening again. Dad’s hurting her so much—” Her cry was cut off by his mom’s wail and his dad’s angry yell. 

“Christ!” Darren yelled as he began to run.

He squeezed his way through the afternoon traffic and ran for his mom’s life. He never gave a second thought to how far he lived from school because the walk never seemed to be that long, but running? All he could hear was the crunch of his worn out sneakers on the gravel and his heartbeat in his ears, and over all of that, his mom’s echoing cry. Every cry that he had ever heard her empty from her mouth seemed to make him run faster. He noticed the cautious neighbors conspicuously gathered around listening to the chaos occurring behind the closed door. 

“Nothing is happening. Just mind your business and go away!” Darren said angrily, thinking about the previous times he had to use that bogus excuse. 

He slammed the door behind him and rushed to his sister’s side.

“Myra, what happened?” Darren asked over the yells of their parents as he held her trembling arms.

“Dad came home drunk. Mom tried to ask him why he wasted the rest of our money on alcohol when we had bills to pay. He snapped and started all of this!” Myra shouted and gestured to the damage surrounding them.

“I didn’t start shit!” Their dad’s voice boomed from the closed bedroom door, “It’s your s*** of a mom that started it!”

Darren clenched his teeth, led his sister into the room, and closed the door. A loud shatter of glass hitting the floor triggered a myriad of suppressed emotions in Myra. Her fragile body began to shake and she covered her red, contorted face. Darren placed his large hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a hug as she sobbed. Her hot tears sunk into his shirt. 

“It’s okay, Myra.” He tried to convince her, “It will all be okay. Just give it some time. He’ll stop, we’ll clean everything up, and everything will go back to normal. Trust me.”

Myra pushed herself away from her brother and sat on his messy bed. She stared at him for a moment. “Darren, this will never end. They’ll keep going on like this until we do something. Anything. We should call the cops before he kills our mom.”

“We can’t. They’ll tear us apart and we’ll never see each other again.” Darren exclaimed as the ruckus in their parents room grew louder and louder. 

“At least it will end.” said Myra.

“It’s not that simple. You’re too young to understand.”

“I wasn’t too young to understand when he dragged her down the hall and punched her in the face for being too tired to cook. Or when he spit in her face and called her a bitch. Or when he called her a whore for wearing something nice. I understood perfectly. He needs to go.”

“But—” Their dad swung the door open, held their mom by her neck, and shoved her bleeding and swollen face to look at them. 

“Look, kids. No one will want her now.” Tom said with a chuckle. Myra turned away and Darren stared into his father’s eyes. “Shut the hell up!” He screamed into their mom’s ear when she began to sob.

“Why don’t you?” Darren shouted back.

“What did you just say to me? You don’t talk to your dad like that.”

“You are not my dad. You’re a poor excuse of a man at that. You low life bastard.” Darren took a step closer.

“If i’m not your dad, then it won’t matter if I beat you too.” Tom said filling in the gap.

“Stop.” Lisa pleaded and reached her arm out. Tom kicked it away and it smacked the wall.

Darren closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Fourteen years of his rage had been shoveled down into the core of his soul and destroyed who he used to be. He had to be careful about what he said and what he did because everyone was so afraid of Tom blowing up. He vowed he would never become like his father, but in that moment, he wanted nothing else, but to see the man across from him hurt more than he had been hurt, more than his sister and his mom as well. 

“What?” The alcohol in Tom’s breath drifted into Darren’s nostrils and set him off.

He punched Tom with a strong right hook and before Tom could react, Darren was already on top of him, delivering blow after blow after blow. Fourteen years of anger and frustration and helplessness travelled down to Darren’s bruising fists and hit Tom again and again. All Darren could think about was the swollen eye and busted lip on his mom, the terrified look on his sister’s face. He remembered how hopeless he felt when he was younger, when he couldn’t help his mom, and when he’d get hit as well for trying to protect her. 

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO HIT ANYONE HERE! ALL YOU DO IS WASTE OUR MONEY!” Darren screamed at his exhausted dad. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM US! EVERYTHING! YOU RUINED MY CHILDHOOD!” His voice cracked and he started to cry. “I looked up to you.” He said with a final punch. 

“You looked up to the wrong person, boy.” Tom slurred in his drunken stupor and near unconsciousness. “You can’t deny it, you’re just like me now.”

“I am nothing like you.” Darren said bitterly as he walked his mom and his sister passed Tom’s limp and bloodied body through the front door. 

“Hi, i’m officer Hills.” A tall black haired man in a blue uniform said. “I got a call earlier complaining about some type of violence occurring in the residence.”

“Officer—” Darren tried to explain as he stepped forward.

“No.” Lisa said, looking to the side to hide her beaten face. “Nothing happened. My husband and I were just having a little argument and I guess it got a little intense. We did throw some things around, but that’s it.”

Darren and Myra stood there dumbfounded.

“Is there any way that I can speak to your husband?”

“He’s taking a nap right now.”

The officer clicked his tongue and seemed to be considering something. He turned his attention to Myra, who avoided eye contact, and then to Darren, who held his ground and hoped that he could hear his silent cry for help. 

“Well,” Officer Hills sighed. “I’ll take your word for it. Just call if you need help.”

“Will do, Officer.” Lisa said heading back inside.

Darren and Myra didn’t move an inch. They watched as the policeman entered his car and drove off. Myra started towards the leaving car, but Darren held his arm out to stop her. “Let him leave, Myra. There’s nothing more we can do. It’s over.” 

“For now.” Myra said as she slowly followed her mom.

Darren hoped that they would be saved. That their seemingly perpetual agony would cease. But the policeman never turned around. He would never give a second thought about the bruises that their mom hid on the other side of her face. And they would never call to ask for help because they believed the lies when the truth was right in front of them.