Deep Darkness

The Darkest Hour

Jeremiah 1:5

Please don’t. Please don’t hit her again. I can’t take this anymore!

I look over at my sister Alona and my brother Dontrell as they wail, “Momma, Momma! Stop hitting her, Johnny!”

A sharp, “Powwow!” erupted through the air as the desolate screams of my mother pierced my heart like the sharpest knife. I cannot take it anymore. I hear my mother shout, “Go in your room – go! I said go in your room!” I gaze at her naked face, tears coursing down her face.

Please Johnny stop! A black “POW” cracks through the air; its feral intent sickening me as my mother’s screams plunge even deeper into my raging heart. I won’t stand here and watch again; I have to do something now. “Gabriel, NO! Stay out of this!” My mother called to me, her voice somewhere distant and dreamy within my adrenalin-soaked blood.

“Get off my momma! Get your hands OFF her Johnny!”

I feel myself lunging forward in a desperate attempt to protect Momma; biting down hard upon his filthy flesh as blood trickled down my chin. Once again, the faraway voice slipped through the haze of my desperation. “Don’t Gabriel! Stay out of this!” I reach over into the kitchen sink and grab a knife. Its blade glinting with foreboding power as Alona and Dontrell shout at me from the background to stop. I look at them, a child myself, as I sadly realize the presence of darkness clouding their youthful faces.

How do I get Johnny off Momma? I think about Dontrell and Alona standing away from the violence; clutching each other’s small bodies in silence as they were helpless to save their own mother. I stare down at my delicate mother, who was only five feet one and 145 lbs, as she was tortured by the brute – my stepfather, Johnny. He carelessly pressed all 275 lbs of his revolting body down upon my poor, lovely mother and took her slender neck into his grotesque, calloused hand. He brought one of his thick, meaty arms back behind his head as the quiet “pop” of a bone in his shoulder foreshadowed the atrocious brutality that would soon come against my mother. I heard the sound of his enormous, bare hand collide mercilessly into my mother’s gentle face as well as her shrill scream in the disgusting seconds afterward. I stand there – motionless and helpless – as Alona, Dontrell and I watch this strange hideous, one-sided dance of my mother scrambling away while fighting with my step-father as he smashed her with the force of something wild into the wall.

I make contact with my mother’s ringed, tired eyes and ignore her desperate plea of, “Gabriel, stay out of this!” When I look deeper into the pain as it absorbs the agony of every blow and desperately call to me, “Please help me!” I turn around and all of the screaming sounds of flesh upon flesh become too much for my head and heart to take. I cannot hear it anymore. There is only chilling silence inside of me as the lonely darkness of my destiny killer begins to fall. As I lay there, I thought to myself how I got back here after all this man had done to me. What was I doing? Why did I take him back? I know this night is not going to lead to a good place. My heart began to pound with failing despair of who I had become. I began to draw back into a place of darkness and familiarity of the little girl that sat in much pain watching the horrible abuse of her mother. I felt that something was wrong with me. Why could I not stay away from this man after the awful pain he had put me through?

He began to reach over and grab me. A feeling of nausea and revulsion began to come over my body but a part of me wanted his arms around me because of how it made me feel. I felt secure in his arms and I knew I could get anything I wanted from him now. Why did I allow this man who abused me with so much passion lie in my bed and caress me with such passion? The same hands that were touching me and showing me favor and love are the same hands that brutally fought with me not more than three weeks ago. As the tears began to slowly run down my face, I could feel myself slipping into a place of painful darkness and hurt. I was so busy thinking of my feelings of want and desire that I forgot about all of the ugly pain that this man had caused me. I gently slid my body into a deep tight ball with my knees so close to my chest that I could feel the beat of my heart. As my feet got closer to my chest I began to close my eyes tighter and tighter. I could see every blow to my face. The pain I felt inside was enormously overwhelming. It began to feel like just yesterday. ‘Dear God please help me to get away from this man. Please help me Lord. I feel as if everything inside of me is dying. Please Lord, help me.’ Even as I was crying out to the Lord, I embraced his tender touch to my flesh.

The next morning as I got up for work, I saw the smile on his face. He looked up at me and smiled. “Good morning, Sweetie, how did you sleep last night? “I have missed you so much over the past few weeks. I’m so happy you’re giving me another chance. I promise to take it slow.”

With my back turned I didn’t respond. I just continued to get dressed for work. Once I arrived at work everyone talked about how chipper I looked. I didn’t think so nor did I feel like they said I looked. I felt lost and dysfunctional but I was doing what made me feel good for the moment. As long as I was happy with what I was doing, I wanted to make it okay. Deep down inside I was so sick, bruised, and broken. I felt like, I had just walked away from any sanity that I had left in my mind. It was such a bitter sweet moment. I looked happy but I felt the betrayal of self on the inside. How could I be back with this man? I asked myself. How did I end wrapped back up in the same arms and hands that abused me to the point of being breathless? Will I ever be delivered from the deep darkness that covers my face? Who shall save me from this body of death?