Walking Out

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, not really knowing what to do… or say. The atmosphere around the dining room turned eerily cold as she watched her father rise from his seat at the head of the table, clutching his beer glass between clenched teeth.

He thrust his arm forward, shattering the glass against her mother’s delicate cheek. Screams of her mother’s excruciating pain pierced her heart……but Jonie could do nothing but close her eyes as she let the tears stream down her face.

One little word, one tiny expression was all it took for Jonie’s father to burst into fits of rage… impending that rage upon her mother. And what could she do? What could Jonie do… but watch helplessly as her father crushed the fragile being that her mother was, day by day.

She cringed as she thought about her cries of help from people all around her, only to be silenced by looks of utter disbelief and disgust of her. No one believed her! And who would? Her father was a respectable man; high by the standards of society. Yet, low by the standards of God. And that was all she could hold on to…..faith and hope.

She blinked her eyes open abruptly when she heard her mother scream, “No! Not our baby!” And then she stood erect, knocking off her chair, as she watched her father swing his golf club against her mother’s bloated stomach in a blind rage. A million thoughts formed a whirlpool in her mind and yet, calmly holding up her chair high above her head, she walked towards her father.

“You will not hurt this beautiful life that is inside my mother!” she screamed, bringing down the chair over his head, knocking him unconscious. He fell in a heap on the floor and all was quiet for a moment.

And then sobbing uncontrollably, she ran to her mother, embracing her with all her love and all her pain. They hugged each other, crying quietly in each other’s comfort for a while. Then, they worked quickly and quietly, packing all the essentials to walk out of the door, out of that house and out of that wretched life… together.

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