The cream colored paper had been balled up and looked like someone had tried to throw it away once. It now had been folded in half once. I unfolded it and was very careful to not tear in two. The old worn crease was very fragile. Please read this out loud to us again and keep this very confidential, she instructed with now shaky, whispery voice.
Once again I began to read the identical handwriting very slowly:
After what happened two nights ago, I am now hiding here in the basement. I have checked on the children and have locked their doors and the old key is in my pocket. He never talks to them anyway and always pushes them away. All they want is for him to love them. Once I hear him, if he comes home, then I go back upstairs and try to sleep. We now sleep in separate rooms. I sleep on the floor next to my children. I can always tell him that they were crying in the night.
The pain in my abdomen has now started to subside a little. I dont know if I will ever be able to have a normal bowel movement again. Im now afraid to try and go to the bathroom; Im sure I will bleed again.
I wish I could tell someone what happened. I guess I must just write it down and throw it away. His mother will never believe me and just feels I deserve to be treated this way.
He came home drunk again and this time came directly into our bedroom, turned the lights on and just stood over me. I looked up at him silently, hoping I would not get hit tonight. You wait here!! he snarled at me drunkenly. He then left the room and came back in with a cocktail glass filled with probably bourbon. He set it down on the nightstand after taking a huge swallow and proceeded to take off his clothes in front me, almost violently. After he tore his own shirt off of himself, he practically fell down while taking off his trousers and undershorts. Proudly he showed me his red inflamed penis standing at an erection. That bitch couldnt get me off but you will, Goddamnit, he told me with a threat. We had not had sex in a long time since he started chasing all those women but I was always afraid that one day this would happen. With that he pulled all of the covers off of me, tore my silk nightgown from me, and proceeded to straddle me slapping my face with his erect penis. He told me to lick it and suck it. I shook my head, no, and then he pulled me up in the bed and rammed his penis into my vagina and started pumping violently. He then told me that I was too big to satisfy him there and he pulled his penis out and then rammed it into my fanny as I lay on my back, and immediately thrusted it as hard and fast as he could. I bit my hand to keep from yelling out in pain and hoped this would be over soon. He continued raping me and I could feel wetness coming from my rear- end; I knew I was bleeding. Finally he started to ejaculate into my now open wound and slapped my face twice while he was having his orgasm. Afterwards he rolled off from me, grabbed out for his bourbon, took another huge swallow and then proceeded to vomit on the bed and the floor and pass out. Dear God, what have I done to deserve this? Am I a bad person? Please remove my suffering and tell me what to do.
The old lady looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, I allowed that to happen in my house. After reading that I knew that each night she would hide in the basement hoping my son would not see the blue lights. I realize now that I was just angry about my life and could not accept any one elses pain. How selfish of me, she continued while staring into her soul. I continued to just watch her silently. I really did not know what to say. Quietly, I poured her a little more now cold tea ceremoniously. She then thanked me and held my hand with desperation. I did not try to pull away. My own heart was now beginning to ache.
At the time your mother fled this house, I did not really know the full extent of what had been happening under my sacred roof. All I knew was what happened the night she left. It was late and I had just gotten into bed to read when all at once I heard yelling and banging on the basement door outside. You know that little door is just to the left of the red door. I imagine now that my son must have seen the blue lights in the basement. Your mother, I guess used to lock the door when she was in there so she would be safe. I got out of bed and put my robe on and went downstairs to see what was going on in my house. By now he was shouting loudly and cursing for her to open the door. Finally he somehow broke the door and raged inside. He was yelling at your mother and demanding to know who was in there with her. She adamantly told him she was all alone. As I remember now, she must have been sitting at a small table with two candles dimly lit, possibly writing. He would not hear of it though. Somehow he was convinced that there was a man in there with her. He started throwing some of the old furniture around and upsetting chairs while backing your mother into the corner. As I remember, everything happened so fast, I guess thats why I did nothing, she continued while still clenching my hand now with perspiration.
He was raging loudly at her and getting closer and closer. He threatened to kill her non-existent lover and then kill her with his bare hands. He fumed closer and closer to her, yelling and throwing objects around the room. She began to duck and try to hide in the corner. She was looking around wildly for something to protect herself as he tried to grab her. Somehow your mother twisted away from him. He tried again to grab her. At this point I was almost paralyzed with what was going on; I couldnt do anything to stop him or help her. I just watched, she said now crying openly. Suddenly he held on to her and punched her hard in her beautiful face. Her eyes rolled sideways he had hit her so hard. I thought she would fall to the floor but with that she pulled a small Derringer pistol from her pocket. She quickly aimed and fired wildly; the bullet went out one of the blue panes of glass. My son stopped and tried to regain his balance and started to yell at her. He called her all sorts of names drunkenly. She stood very quietly against the basement wall and as he came towards her she calmly aimed and shot my son in his forehead. He did not fall right away and still tried to grab her and as he raised his arm to reach her, she shot him again, this time in the neck. He fell to the floor and I ran out to call the police. I yelled at her that she had just murdered my only son. She was going to pay, by God!
I called the police chief, who I knew personally, at home and told him that my son had been shot and to come right away, and in a panic, I just hung up the phone. With that your mother had run upstairs and grabbed you and your brother out of your beds and ran to the front door. I met her at the front door and she yelled at me, You deserve to see your son be shot by me. You created a monster and you allowed that monster to brutalize both me and your only grandchildren. These two will only be what is left of your precious, damn Boston Family and I will swear to you they will be nothing like you or your wretched son. I can assure you that one day I will send my children to claim their heritage. I hope to hell they remove you from this house! she screamed at me while she slammed the red door in my face. I never saw or heard from her again, she said looking directly into my eyes and letting go of my hand.
The old naked lady in her old camels hair coat got up from the settee and walked over to the gray and rose colored marble fireplace. She picked up the fireplace poker, stirred the anemic embers and turned and looked at me full face. She took a step towards me and I stood up quickly thinking that I best head for the door. This lady is assuredly crazy, I thought, trying to remain very calm. I looked at the door and tried to reassure myself that I would be able to get out. The old lady then turned from me and walked over to the walker that was in the corner. She tapped the walker making a ping noise with the poker. She stared at it and then turned to me and said rather sadly, Your mother did not kill my son, you know. He lived. The one bullet in his forehead left him unable to speak and the one in his neck became lodged in his spinal chord and he was partially paralyzed. He had to be in diapers until he died of finally liver cancer last year. I got what I had always prayed for and that had been for me to have my son all to myself, she said with retrospective sadness. Please tell your mother that I am sorry, she said all at once sobbing. I was too selfish and scared to deal with things. I had been all alone most of my life and I was so scared I would be just forgotten. And now I have created exactly what my thoughts and actions directed. My house is all I have. Please dont take it from me, she said while beginning to sob almost hysterically.
My own heart was now aching with her torment and I went over to her and led her back to the settee and let her hug me and cry. She cried for almost what seemed to be at least fifteen minutes. The sobs were heavy with her souls burden that she had chosen to make her lifes reality. What she did not want to really have happen, she made happen through fear, and no faith in love.
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