I was fourteen
and sick of daddy-Monster’s violence.
I did not know who I was.
I had heard too many lies.
Too many beatings.
Too many slaps across the face.
Too many unpredictable eruptions.
Too much terror.
Too much ridicule.
Too many disparaging comments.
Too many hostile “jokes”.
Too much verbal humiliation.
Too many years
of accumulated violence –
and terror –
I felt the anger –
denied, suppressed, justified.
I needed justice.
I wanted vengeful justice.
I dared not confront directly.
He was much larger and stronger.
But one day, I saw his toothbrush
and flushed it down the toilet.
A few hours later,
I heard daddy-Monster grumble
that he couldn’t find his toothbrush.
I felt amused pleasure.
A few days later,
a plumber arrived.
The mystery toothbrush was revealed.
How did this happen?
Of course, Reckless-Brother was suspect.
With his drinking and fighting and rebellion,
He was the most likely culprit.
But there was no proof.
I was free to act
as ignorant and confused as everyone else,
shielded by my academic aptitude
and relative maturity.
The mystery was never solved.
With certainty, and this time feebly,
violence was boomeranging
back to its source.
– Healing Heart Warrior (Tom M.)