Prompt for April 3, 2016

Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:

“My Dad left my Mom and I when I was ten years old. I came home from school one day and found my Mom sitting on the floor of the living room crying and a fresh welt on her face. This wasn’t new to me, but when I asked her where Dad was she started crying even harder. I did what every ten year old did and helped my Mom clean up and get dinner on the table. There were only two place settings, though, so I knew something was different.

“As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months I finally figured out that Dad wasn’t coming home. I knew this for certain when Mom and Auntie Jo were talking on the phone and Mom mentioned that Dad had moved in with his secretary from work. Mom started crying again, but I could hear Auntie Jo yelling at her to stop it because he wasn’t worth the tears. I think I realized then that Dad wasn’t coming home. I probably should have cried, but I couldn’t. Mom needed me to be strong for her so I held it in.

“Just a few short years later we got a phone call late at night from the police. It appears that not everyone liked being abused. When Dad tried to slap his secretary around she grabbed a knife and defended herself. I expected Mom to cry when she heard the news but she didn’t, not then. But she was never the same afterward. She’d go to work, come home, make dinner and then spend the rest of the night in her bedroom. Drinking.

“When I was fourteen I went to the movies with some friends and came home to find the police in front of our house. Aunt Jo was inside with the police and told me that Mom had died. They didn’t tell me at the time, but I found out later that she had slit her wrists while in the bath. She left a note, saying how much she missed Dad and felt that this was the only way she could be with him again. He had come back from the dead to mess up my life again. The bastard.

“And that explains why when I was in the Kicking Horse bar and I saw that guy slap his girlfriend I just lost it and beat the crap out of him. I probably should have held back, but all I could see was my Mom being hit and I couldn’t stop myself.”

I stopped talking and looked at Dr. Amelia Larsen. Her face had been passive when I started my speech, but I could swear that her beautiful green eyes were shiny with unshed tears. I know mine were.

Post a link to the story in the comments.

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