As I sit next to my sister, Kathy, I watch as she squirms in her chair. She looks sarcastically at my father, then turns away with a look of contempt. My dad pulls out his wide and ominous belt from his work pants, laying it across his lap with a threatening look at Kathy's mocking glare. Once more I pray that my sister will remove the smirk from her face. Fearfully, I look at my older brothers to see if they are trembling like me. Their silent glances and shuffling feet tell me that I'm not alone. The little ones seem oblivious to what is about to happen. "Don't upset your father. He's worked hard all day, and he just wants a little quiet," my mother pleads with her daughter. She looks at Kathy with a scared, but stern look, and I can tell my Mom is hoping Kathy will be able to keep the inner hatred to herself. Oh, if only my sister would listen! I wonder silently what it would be like to have one night without the loud bursts of yelling and the constant terror that quite possibly I could be the next victim. But it's not to be. Kathy makes a loud noise of some sort and my father is up with the belt, slapping at her legs, her arms, and her back. For some reason, he makes sure he keeps the hits away from my almost girlish ten-year-old body. Kathy is now screaming in pain and runs to her room to get away. My stomach is churning inside as my dad sits down to finish the meal of pork chops and sauerkraut. My mother talks angrily to my father about his foul temper and the physical abuse he has just given to their oldest daughter. I see in his eyes the loathing and disgust he feels for my mom. There is no remorse for what he has just done. I don't know this at the time, but my mom is tired of having babies and tired of my dad's constant sexual demands. Being raised Catholic, she is not supposed to use any form of birth
control, and yet, there is no one to save her from her over-sexed German-bred husband. As their arguing becomes more heated and they move into the family room, my dad takes his belt and raises his arm to hit her. In unison, and almost in slow motion, the rest of us kids jump on my dad and start hitting him with our flailing arms. My dad cracks a slight smile when he realizes he is outnumbered, and decides to quit while he's ahead. No one goes into check on Kathy. As my younger sister and I begin to do the dishes with my mom, the boys and my dad retire for the evening in front of the television set. In the early morning hour, I wake up suddenly from a heavy sleep. The house is quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing and snoring from all corners of the house. The clock on the desk tells me it's now 4:00 o'clock in the morning and I realize that I don't have much time left. My dad's alarm clock is set to go off at 5:30 and my mom wakes earlier to fix his lunch. I peer over at Kathy in the next bed and see that she appears to be sleeping peacefully. I'm surprised at this, as the night didn't end with the kitchen beating. While I was drying a plate the night before, my mind had wandered, as it so often did, to what it would be like to live in a house where my sister was never abused and even the boys had kitchen chores. I didn't understand why my brothers never had to lift a finger after dinner except to empty the trash. And with three older brothers, how difficult could taking out the trash be anyway. As the plate crashed to the floor, my dad jumped up and looked at me.
Seeing my shaken demeanor, he decided it was Kathy's fault since it wouldn't have happened if she had been helping us. None of my pleading could save her from the worst beating I had ever witnessed. He didn't leave our bedroom until parts of her arms and legs were almost as black as the night. I tried to grab his arm a few times, but he pushed me down on my bed as he continued his outrage on Kathy's already scarred flesh. Silently I lift myself out of bed. Slowly and quietly I make my way into the kitchen. As I wait for my eyes to adjust, I walk to the sink, knowing that the knives will be in the drawer to the left. Nervously, I open the drawer and try to make out which knife to choose. Cautiously, I pull the largest one out, wondering if I really will have the guts to do what I had been planning all night. As I remember again the physical abuse Kathy received because of my negligence, I feel the strength and
justice for what I am about to do. As I hold the knife in my hand and turn around, I see a slight movement to my left. Although I think I should be afraid, the soft glow gives off
a tremendous feeling of love and complete trust. All of a sudden, an angel with the most beautiful velvet blue wings appears before me. Her gown seems to be shimmering all around the room. She smiles at me as she telepathically communicates her thoughts. She tells me how much we are all loved and that she knows that I want to protect my sister. She explains that what I was thinking of doing was just as bad as what my dad was doing to my sister and my family. "Have faith, little one. From this day forward your dad will never lift his hand to your sister or mother again." Then she disappears into the wondrous night. I put the knife back into the drawer and turn around to see my sister Kathy standing in the doorway. I can see by the joy on her face that she witnessed the angel and her message, too. Kathy takes my hand and walks me back to our bedroom, where she shows me that her bruises and scars are gone. We hug each other and crawl back into our separate beds. Submitted by Cathy from Indiana
