Not the first time Options

[TheSilenceInDict...]

I wrote this a long while back.
It's very straight-forward, dark and honest, intentionally not written in any poetic structure.
It's long, but I'm sure it's worth the read.
[EDIT].// TRUE STORY
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Not The First Time

_____I always had that inner fear for him. But, as many other people do with problems they can't or are too afraid to deal with, I stuffed it into a corner of my mind, hoping to never again come across the memory. I'm really strong - both mentally and emotionally. Physically, well...that's a different story. But nothing could prepare me to endure such pain in every aspect.

_____I always find myself fighting with my mom. Hell, not a day goes by without us at least arguing once. Little did I know that one of those arguments would nearly cost me my life. I was, again, arguing with my mom one night, when I was suddenly attacked. No, not by a burglar or other stranger, but someone living with us. My step-dad apparently had enough of my rude, rebellious attitude, and just snapped. It was all a blur...Before I realized what the hell was going on, I was pinned on my bed, struggling for air. He was choking me! He had the most vile, murderous look on his eyes. I struggled with all my might, but he was far too strong. My arms flailing as his tight grip endured, and what I got out of air I used to scream. And when I did I pleaded for him to stop, to not kill me. Because I thought right then, "This is it." I even screamed out to my mother, who, as ghastly as it may seem, stood idly and watched. Watched as the man she loved, strangle the life out of the one who she brought into the world. Surprisingly and fortunately, he left, still fuming with anger. And, as I lay on bed, trembling, coughing and struck with utter, absolute fear, I watched my mother calmly and quietly leave me as she headed for her room.

_____I didn't know I'd face that fear once again. After the first time, I hoped and prayed it would never happen again. But it did. Yet another argument, this time in the kitchen, triggered the horrid attack once again. I remember what the argument was over - doing the dishes. That's right, I almost lost my life over refusing to do the damn dishes. Again, I was choked. Unlike last time, I was thrown against the wall. Fortunately, I managed to only endure it for only a short amount of time. When it was over, I was somehow able to crawl to the dining room. I was once again terrified, and just gave up and collapsed, curling into a ball on the dining room floor. There I lay for an hour, unbothered, in a pool of my own tears. I didn't see my mother until she came out of the room. She went towards me, stood above me and simply but cold-heartedly said, "Get up."

Sometimes they would wonder why I act the way I do towards them.
Sometimes I would wonder how much they value their own son's life.