Young Sebastian

Sebastian – Age 9

He’s hitting her again.

I do what Mama told me. I curl up tight in the corner behind the couch, knees pulled all the way to my chest, hands pressed hard over my ears. She said if I cover my ears I won’t hear her scream. But she’s too loud. The sound still gets through. It always does.

What’s the point of covering my ears when I can still see her?

Papa’s face is the same red color it gets when he’s really mad. He’s yelling something about stupid shit and money. Then his boot swings forward and catches her right in the stomach. The sound is ugly. Soft and heavy at the same time. Mama folds over like something broken.

“I don’t have any money, please—”

Her voice is small. Smaller than usual.

I know why she doesn’t have it.

She gave the last of it to me this morning for ice cream, she had taken me to the pack today. I shouldn’t have asked for ice cream, if I haven’t been so greedy watching other kids with ice cream, papa won’t have to hit her. She would have given him the money. Papa doesn’t stop.

He grabs Mama by the hair and drags her a little across the floor. Her knees scrape. She tries to hold onto his wrist so it doesn’t pull so hard, but her fingers keep slipping. I press my hands tighter over my ears until it hurts. It doesn’t help.

There’s blood on her lip now. A thin red line that runs down to her chin.

I want to look away. Mama told me to look away if it got bad. But my eyes won’t close. They stay stuck open, watching everything.

Papa’s breathing is loud. Like a dog after it runs. He says something about how she’s useless and how she’s raising a soft little brat. I know the brat is me. He always says it like that when he looks at me.

He finally lets go of her.

Papa stands over Mama, breathing hard through his nose like he just finished running. His eyes move down her body, then slowly lift and land right on me.

My heart squeezes so tight it hurts.

He’s going to hit me too.

“Come here.” He waved me over. I started trembling in fear.

“No!” Mama’s voice cracks. She tries to push herself up but her arms shake and she drops back down. “Leave my son out of this!”

Papa doesn’t even look at her. He walks straight toward the corner. His hand shoots out, grabs the front of my shirt, and drags me up onto my feet like I weigh nothing. The collar digs into my neck. My toes barely touch the floor.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice almost soft. The scary kind of soft. “This is what men do. This is how you show love, alright? Come on. Hit her. She loves it.”

He pushes me a step closer to Mama. She’s still on the floor. One eye is almost swollen shut. There’s blood on her teeth when she looks at me.

“But… she’s crying,” I whisper.

Papa’s fingers tighten in my shirt until the fabric bites into my skin.

“She’s crying because she likes it,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Women are like that. They need someone to remind them who’s in charge. You’re gonna be a man one day. Better learn now.”

“I don’t want to”. I cried. “Hitting people hurts, I don’t want to hit her”.

“See?” he snarls, and then he shoves me so hard I fly backward. My back hits the wall. The air jumps out of my lungs. I slide down to the floor, shoulder throbbing.

“You’ve raised a stupid boy!” he shouts at Mama. “I can’t believe he’s my son! Soft little crybaby. Just like his worthless mother.”

Mama tries to push herself up again. Her arms shake so bad she barely gets her elbows under her.

“Don’t,” she begs. “Please, just leave him alone. He’s only seven—”

Papa turns on her so fast I flinch.

“Shut your mouth.”

He kicks the side of her hip. Not as hard as before, but hard enough that she drops flat again with a sharp cry. “You better have dinner ready when I’m back, bitch”.

The door slams so hard the walls shake. His footsteps stomp down the hallway, then the stairs. A few seconds later the car engine growls to life and fades away down the street.

The apartment goes quiet except for Mama’s uneven breathing and the soft, wet sound of her trying not to cry too loud.

I stay frozen against the wall. My shoulder still hurts from where he threw me. My hands are shaking so bad I have to press them under my legs to make them stop.

“Come here, baby,” she whispers. Her voice is wrecked. “It’s over. He’s gone.”

I crawl to her on my hands and knees. The floor feels colder than before. When I reach her, she pulls me against her chest even though it makes her wince. I can feel her heart beating too fast under my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I couldn’t… I didn’t want to…”

“Shh.” She presses her lips to the top of my head. They are trembling. “You did good. You stayed brave. That’s all that matters.”

I pull back just enough to look at her face. One eye is almost swollen shut. The other one is shiny and red.

“Do you like it when he hits you?” I ask. My voice comes out small and serious.

Mama’s mouth opens, then closes. She looks away for a second. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her hand is still on the back of my head, stroking my hair the way she does when she’s trying to make bad things feel smaller.

“No,” she finally says. Soft. Almost like she’s telling a secret. “I don’t, Sebastian.”

I stare at the blood drying on her chin.

“Then why don’t you leave?”