The way the sky roared that night, I knew I was in for a nightmare.  Horrific memories flash in my head like a camera taking pictures.  One picture after another flashes by as I sit on my bed looking back on those memories, thinking how the world seemed like it was crashing down on me.  I’m taking the readers to a place where not many others have been--a place full of ups and downs, with a terrible reality of what happened.  This is the day I was first abused.

I think I was about three years old.  The day was perfect.  I played outside all day with my dad and sisters.  That day the blazing sun had to hit 105 degrees, and I thought it could melt me at the time.  After a day of being outdoors, I came inside to play my Game Cube and use my other inside toys.  The evening went fast, and my mom ordered pizza.  I sat at the door just watching every car that came by, hoping it was the pizza man.  I ate my delicious pizza, and then it was time for me to sit down with my mom and watch our show The Amazing Race.    After the show my mom went to work, and I was told to go to bed.  This was the part of the day where it all went wrong.

I went to my room to go to bed. I sat on my bed to arrange my stuffed animals, and my dad said, “Give me your nightlight.  You’re a big boy now.” 

I said, “No, I can’t sleep without it.”  My dad took it, and I cried.  Since my dad had to get up early in the morning, he was not happy that I wouldn’t let him sleep because of my crying.  Next my dad closed my door, and I opened it, asking for my nightlight.  He said, “No.”  I wandered around my room, crying, stomping my feet.  Then the next time I opened my door was the last.  My dad grabbed his belt out of his room.  I tried to close the door and go back into my room, but he pushed the door opened.  The belt, folded in half, was clinched in his hand.  Then he let the belt open and just started hitting me.  I tried running, but the belt was swinging everywhere.  I never knew where it would hit next.  I had a small crack in my Nascar bed between the matress and the bed frame that I tried to hide in.  The bed helped block some of the shots, but they kept coming.  It felt like forever until one of the swings hit me in the head and literally knocked me out.  My dad must have realized at that point to stop because he went back to bed.

I woke up in the morning with cuts from the metal part of the belt and whip marks all over the front and back of my body.  I hurt everywhere.  My mom was crying because of it, and she didn’t know what to do.  My mom hugged me too.

Events of this sort happened a couple more times in my life but never as bad as this.  I try to fight it, but I still have nightmares.  I did get my nightlight back, but I never recieved a real apology for the beating.  Overall, I think my dad is a good person; he had some problems, but he now takes medications for his anger issues.  Plus, I am big enough now to defend myself.