Mother and Father

Mother... Father.... I that's what I called my parents. I remember how they looked like, and ot was a bit strange they were my parents but somehow my memory of their name seemed a bit hazy. Maybe it was because they weren't important to me...

Father was worked overseas as a seaman, he had many siblings he was the second to the last child. My father earned large amounts of money and he seemed to be very rich. Mother was a college graduate, but she ended up becoming a housewife. Her job was to take care of the small business my father left at home, and it was also her work to look after me. Father would come back home after a months... when he did he made sure to bring gifts for our relatives. Mother would always find time to spend with father alone. With them I always smiled...

I was very young back then... but I still remember a few moments with them vividly. We were seen as the perfect family... a family that was very happy, the ideal type. That's what most people see us as... but in reality we were nothing like that.

When I am seen with them, I was forced to smile. If I didn't my mother would pinch my shoulder until it bleeded. My mother and father looked loving on the outside, but they always fought when we arrived at home. Sometimes their fights would be so bad that the other one would get wounds. They were so loud... they never settled down. Everday I was forced to hear their quarrels. It was noisy...

"Noisy..." I told myself covering my ears. As I hid in the corner of the room where they were fighting. I just stared at the ground not knowing what to do... "Please stop..." I whispered and burried my face on my knees to keep myself from listening to their screams.

If father was in a bad mood... he'd take it out on me verbally. He'd yell things in front of my face such as "damn it!" , "Stupid!", "Useless! Worthless!", "Son of a bitch!" and some other curse words. Sometimes he'd even hit me, I also remeber that he use to throw things at me when he was upset. The perfect father figure that the people saw was no where to be found.

On the other hand if mother was mad... she would murmur curse words. Then she will suddenly yell at me... saying painful words. The worst parts was she'd always punch me and do other physically harmful things to me, it was a pain but I couldn't do anything. If the others saw her as a loving wife.... which she was not, everday she would always complain about father.

We had to put up an act evertime we went outside. A smiling face, hugs and kisses.... and when we were back in the house those attitudes disappeared like a bubble that dispersed.

I'd sometimes go in the bathroom and tell myself... "This is not right..." I could hear my heavy breaths, I was fearful of them. I was still so young... "I'm scared... someone please help me..." I prayed and wished.

But everything stayed the same. I put my hands together and looked up as I feel my tears start pouring down. "Why... Why God....?" I prayed silently.

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