Responsibility

Responsibility

A Story by Cat
"

This story is about child abuse and the effect it can have on people's lives

"

October 20th, 2006

 

It was a trick of fate, really. Just when Jono Michaels thought he had no hope left, along came his knight in shining armour. He never would have dreamed, even just four days ago, that he would finally be escaping this hell. After nine years of abuse, here was his chance to get out of it, to save himself. So here he was standing in the hall, suitcases packed, waiting for his aunt to take him away for the summer holidays. Sheer and utter luck was what had brought him to this position. When the phone had rung those days ago, it was a complete surprise – they didn't know anyone and his parents avoided making friends, in case they got close enough to suspect anything. So when his Aunt Trina offered to take him off their hands for the holidays and 'relieve their financial burden for a while' Jono felt safe, for once.

 

The doorbell rang and Jono rushed to let his aunt in. He fell into her embrace and breathed in deeply. She smelled of perfume, cookies and safety. Nothing at all like his mother, who always smelled of whisky and smoke. It was awful that Jono couldn't recognise chocolate if you put it in front of him, yet he could tell you exactly what a bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes cost in all the different shops within a 10-mile radius. It was good timing on his aunt's part – his dad had given his 11-year-old sister Amber a jolly good beating that morning and was about to deal her a follow-up. His dad came out of the kitchen to greet Trina then told Jono to put his suitcase in the car. Amber walked out of the kitchen and inhaled the safety of her aunt, then hung back on the stairs, eyes darting nervously. She knew that if she put one foot wrong she was in for it.

 

It was almost time to go and Jono went to say goodbye to his sister, but stopped. She looked so... helpless. Although she was older than him, she had always been weaker and completely defenceless. That was how she dealt with the beatings and resulting pain, let herself give in to her parents and not put up a fight. Well, that was certainly not what Charlotte had done – and look where she ended up. In a grave at the local cemetery, without even a tombstone or wreath. Amber had witnessed what Charlotte had gone through, which was a lot more than Jono had ever seen of her. She was the sister he had never known, just buried. He couldn't bear to leave Amber here on her own, to meet the same fate as Charlotte had. He felt responsible for her, since he had been too young to look after Charlotte.  He hugged her, whispered “I can't,” and silently walked out to the car, opened the boot and pulled out his suitcase. He dragged it back upstairs without a word, then came back down to Aunt Trina's stunned face.

“I'm sorry, I've changed my mind. I have too much homework to do to have a holiday. And it wouldn't be fair to Amber for me to enjoy myself and her not.” A feeble excuse, but it was all he could think of at the time. “I'm sorry you've wasted your time coming out here.”

Jono could see his father's face turning red, a sure sign that he was probably going to regret this later. But for now, all he cared about was keeping his sister safe since he felt responsible for her. Aunt Trina looked slightly puzzled, but put the change of mind down to the fact that he was a kid who probably didn't want to get in trouble at school for not having finished a project or get too homesick and guilty to enjoy a holiday. After all, he had only had four days to prepare himself both physically and mentally for this. As she drove the 3 hours back home, she had a feeling that something wasn't right. But she shook it off and by the time she arrived home had completely pushed the image of Amber, so sad and sorrowful, to the back of her mind, telling herself she was just imagining things. Ben and Amber had always been so happy and her brother had always seemed to be a good father.

 

That night, Jono was shown just how much he had embarrassed his father. Then, when his mother came home, she showed him again just what his decision had entailed. As the belt came down across his back, he could hear his sister screaming.

“Don't do this! He doesn't deserve it! Please! Leave him alone!”

He tried to reassure her, but couldn't get the words out. He was a martyr and knew it. Because he had decided to stay, he received the bulk of his parents' anger and they forgot about the beating Amber was due to receive before Aunt Trina arrived. He blocked out his pain with the image of his sister standing before him, teeth grating and knuckles bitten. It was for her. It was all for her. And Charlotte.

 

The next day, Mrs Johnson from across the street came over to return the coffee pot she had borrowed a few weeks before. No-one answered the doorbell, so she went round to a side window and peered through a crack in the curtain. She let out a deafening shriek and ran back home, picked up the phone and dialled three numbers.

 

Three days after Trina Michaels had arrived home from her brother's house, the phone rang.

“Miss Michaels?” the sergeant on the other end said, “Can you please come down to the station? There's something we need to talk to you about.”

 

 

October 25th, 2006

 

The headline read “Family dead after drunken rampage.” A father had beaten his two children to death, with the help of his wife, then shot her. He ended it all by taking his own life, removing the pain and scars of his own broken childhood.

 

As Trina put the newspaper down, the face that had haunted her for the past two days reappeared in her mind. The eyes, full of sorrow and the mouth, so grim on her niece's face, were all that she had left of her broken family, the family she could not save.

 

© 2009 Cat


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Abuse effects everyone n all, we hear about it on the news how people kill their own all the time. in rampage or just because.

Posted 15 Years Ago


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Added on February 6, 2009

Author

Cat
Cat

Auckland, New Zealand



About
I am not an emo. From my writing people think I am, but I'm not. When I'm not at school (Just finishing year 11), I'm writing, singing or playing the guitar. Writing and music are my passions. I .. more..

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