Suburbs of Boston
April, 25 1990


‘April 25, 1990
Mother hit me again today caz I got in a fight. That makes my 5 fight this week, and the 12 time she’s hit me. I cownted. I wish she was ded. Sumtimes I get so mad I punch things, or other people. Sumtimes I want to kill them and I get really close, but then I remember and run away.  

When I’m asleep, I hear these things in my hed. A man tells me things. I keep ask what his name is, but he wont tell me. He told me last night. His name is Ovack.  
I’m not alowed to say it tho he said that bad things will hapen.  I don’t know what he could mean but the voyce scares me so I won’t say it.  And I don’t need any more bad things.
He told me a war is cuming. I don’t understand. I think I hear Mother cuming. She can’t find me writing this.  

I HATE MOTHER.’


Oh god, here she comes again. I can hear her yelling and storming up the stairs. I snap my journal shut and look for a place to hide. If she finds out I have another journal she’ll hit me the baseball bat again. I jump off my bed and stuff the journal into the hole in the wall behind the baseboard. She’s coming! I have to hide!

“KAVO!” She screeches and I hide under the bed. I’m shaking. “Come here!” The door opens and I press against the wall, hoping for once she’d forget to look under the bed. But I knew she wouldn’t. She never forgot. The click of her heels on the floor seems extra loud as she walks across my bedroom floor towards the bed. I hold my breath.

Then her face appears and reaches a hand with long, pretty nails and grabs me by the arm and jerks me out. I cry loudly, “Mother don’t hurt me. I’m sorry Mother, I’m sorry.”

“Have you eaten when I specifically told you not to?”  She snarls into my face, pulling me roughly up to her level, holding me up by my upper arm.

I shake my head. Tears come from my eyes and run down my face. “No Mother.”

She shakes me and I feel my shoulder pop and the bones grind together. I yelp and then bite my lip. “You lying little devil! You disgusting, demon child! You don’t deserve to eat my food you gross little thing.” Her green eyes stare hard at me with that scary look she always gives me and I almost pee myself I’m so afraid and it hurts so bad.

“I’m sorry Mother!” I whine and the pain in my arm gets worse. Her nails dig into my skin and I feel blood running down my arm. “Mother please…”

“Are you really that hungry you can’t wait until I feed you?” She growls, “Hmm?”

I shake my head, “No Mother. I’ll eat when you tell me I can.” I say, “Don’t put me in the bathroom with the bleach and ammon’a…please Mother…”

She slaps me. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

Again I shake my head, “No Mother.” I braced myself in case she wanted to hit me again, squeezing my eyes shut.

Then her face softened and she stroked the side of my face. When open my eyes, I shudder and notice how she almost looks like a real mother. “Are you really that hungry?” Then she lifts up my shirt to look at my ribs and hip bones poking against my skin. I knew how bad I looked, with my sunken eyes and bony knees and elbows. I haven’t eaten in over a week. Like a skeleton. Or a zombie. I wonder if I looked scary like a zombie. Probably.

I shake my head, biting my lip so hard it bleeds. “No Mother. I’m not hungry.” My shoulder hurt really bad.

“Are you sure, darling?” She coos. “Let’s get you something to eat, you’re far too skinny.”

The thought of food was too much and I nod my head. She turns and pulls me out of the room and starts down the stairs but suddenly shoves me down them. I fall, hitting each step, letting out a scream each time I hit. Finally at the bottom, I struggle to my feet and stand up as blood runs from my mouth and nose. “M-Mother…” I sob. My entire body hurt. This wasn’t the first time she’s pushed me down the stairs.

She rushes to me, “Oh I’m sorry.” She says, touching my face, “Come on, we’ll make it better.” Then she grasps my arm and pulls me into the kitchen, shoving me into a chair. I feel my vision blur in and out and my head feels heavy, tears flow down my face.

I try to focus on her, but can’t and she walks over, holding a jug of something and a teaspoon. “Here, drink this.” She tells me, holding a spoon in my face.

I nod and take the spoon, but I can’t hold it because my hands are shaking and I end up spilling it all over my clothes. “I’m sorry Mudder!” I gasp, grabbing a napkin and trying to dry it up. I can’t talk right because of the blood in my nose.

She shakes her head, “It’s all right darling. Here, I’ll give it to you.”

I was happy. Mother was finally being nice to me. I knew if I was good she’d like me again. I open my mouth and she dumps some sort of liquid into my mouth. I can’t smell it though because of the blood coming out of my nose. But the taste of it is gross and it burns. I cough and tilt my head away, “Mudder…” I say, opening one of my bright green eyes to look at her.

“No darling, drink it all up. It’ll be better when you drink it all.” She says, making me drink more of it.

I shake my head, “No Mudder.” My insides feel like they’re on fire and I can’t breathe. “Mudder…whad’s happening?” I ask, coughing and clutching my stomach.

“Don’t worry. It’s working. You’ll feel better. Here, drink more.”

I shake my head, “No Mudder. I can’t. It’s making me zick.” I say and I scream as the liquid burns inside me. I wanted to throw up. “Mudder…Mudder…help me…help me Mudder…” I whine, clutching my stomach.

Her face was stony. “I am helping you.”

I start to cry again and I look at the jug of liquid. B-L-E-A-C-H. Bleach. She was making me drink bleach! I cough and push myself up out of the chair. Bleach is bad. You’re not supposed to drink it. I know. Dad told me. I ran to the bathroom and tried to make myself puke.

Mother is screaming again and I finally puke up the bleach into the toilet. There’s blood in it from my nose and mouth where I’d bit my tongue. My throat burns and I try to drink some water from the sink, but it doesn’t help. Then I hear Mother is screaming at Dad and I can’t see in front of me anymore and fall backwards onto the bathroom floor. My eyes get blurry and dark around the edges, my body feels really hot. The last thing I can remember is dad running and picking me up.

*

Now I’m in the hospital. The doctors are nice here and the nurses bring me ice cream and candy. I never want to leave. I made them take the needle out of my arm because I don’t like needles. They scare me a lot and I wish there were no needles in the world. I think of Mother when I see needles, and I don’t like Mother. But if she knew that she’d hit me even more, so I don’t tell her.

I wish she wouldn’t hit me. I hate her sometimes. I want have a normal life like the other kids I see, but I can’t. I have to stay away from them. Mother says so. If I make friends she locks me in the closet and doesn’t give me any food. She says I’m a bad, bad boy and that I don’t deserve to have friends. She says I’m the bastard child who ruined her life and can only hurt other people. I don’t hurt anybody. Well sometimes when I go to school I fight with the other boys because they make fun of me. It tell them I can’t do something cause Mother said and they call me ‘Momma’s boy’ and a sissy. Whoa boy, if Mother heard them call her “momma” I’m sure she’d hit them too. But the only way to make them shut up is to hit them, like Mother does to me.  One time I locked a kid in the janitor’s closet and nobody could find him for a day. I don’t know what bastard means. The kid came out crying like a sissy boy when the teachers found him.

What a baby, I’ve been locked in the closet for longer than that. One time I was in my closet at home a whole week! I’m a bad kid at school the teachers say. And I am. I do my work and I get good marks, but I don’t like the other kids. The teachers say I need to become more social and play Fire trucks and Cowboys and Indians with the other boys, but Mother tells me not to. So I don’t. I don’t want to hurt them. Mother says all I can do is hurt people and I guess that is all I do ‘cause all I do is fight. But I fight to keep people away so I don’t hurt them. I don’t want to hurt people, ‘cause I know what its like. Sometimes I get so mad my head burns and I don’t even remember fighting then the next thing I know there’s some boy laying on the ground with a bloody nose, screaming for the teachers. Then I try to run back home but I always get caught.

It’s not fair that they all get to have happy lives and I don’t. I wish Mother was a normal mother. Dad isn’t home a whole lot anymore and I heard them fighting and Mother said he was having an affair with some whore. I don’t know what whore means either, but don’t ask ‘cause it’s a bad word and Mother’ll hit me. Sometimes I can’t decide if it’s worse when she yells or when she hits me ‘cause yell she yells she looks really scary, but when she hits me she’s quiet and doesn’t say much. I don’t like it.

I saw her crying one time. In her bed. Dad had left and it was really late and I was going to the bathroom even though I’m not supposed to leave my bed at night but I really had to pee and I walked by Mother’s and Dad’s room really quiet and I heard her crying. I hurried up and peed and came back and she was still crying. I kinda felt bad and wanted to hug her like they do in the movies and then things would be alright and she’d love me like a real mom. But I didn’t because movies aren’t real and she’d probably just hit me again, so I went back to bed.

The doctor comes back into my room. I like him. He’s tall and tan with dark black hair and sparkly blue eyes with thick black rimmed glasses. He’s really smart and knows everything in the world. I wish I knew everything in the world, maybe then I’d know how to make Mother leave me alone. Schmidt is his last name. Its fun to say: Schmidt, Schmidt, Schmidt.

“Hiya Kavo. How’re you feeling today?” The smart doctor asks and I smile.

“I feel better.” I say, tilting my head to the side and pushing my dark brown hair out of my eyes. I had hair like dad and I looked a lot like him too. But I had green eyes like Mother. I wish I didn’t. I wish I had black hair and blue eyes like Doctor Schmidt. But he’s not my daddy and you only get how you look from who your mom and dad are. So I look like my parents.  

He nods and smiles. He has really white teeth. “Good, good. We’re going to keep you here for one more day, alright? But you can go home tomorrow.” He says, checking my shoulder where it had popped out and making sure my cast was fine. I’d broken my wrist falling down the stairs, I hadn’t even realized it because my shoulder hurt worse.

“Okey dokey.” I say.

He crouches besides me and takes off his glasses to look at me better. “Ms. Shelia is coming to see you again today. She wants to ask you some questions. She’s even got a surprise for you.”

I like Ms. Shelia. She is the nicest lady I’ve ever met in my life. Sometimes I think about asking her if she’d be my mother instead but I’m afraid she won’t want me since I’m a bad kid. Ms. Shelia always asks me if Mother hits me and if Mother does bad things to me. I lie and tell her no and that I’m just clumsy like Mother told me to say. She asks how come I have so many bruises and I say I wrecked my bike and sometimes I don’t watch where I’m going and I run into the table. She believes me I think.

Doctor Schmidt winks and walks away and I wave a little, then slump back against my bed and pick at the cast on my arm. Little white fuzzies came off it. It was itchy too. I hate it when things are itchy. Like I hate Mother except not as bad. Ms. Shelia comes in next and is holding a kitty. I like cats. It’s her pet cat named Marie. I like her, she’s nice and reminds me Maya. Maya’s dead. Mother ran her over in the car. I cried a lot because Maya was the best cat in the whole world. I play with Marie and she runs around the room chasing the feathery ball toy. It’s her favourite. Ms. Shelia says that most boys don’t like cats, they like dogs. I tell her cats are better. Cats rule dogs drool.

After a while Ms. Shelia has to leave and I tell her I want her to stay. She says she’ll bring me ice cream tomorrow and I tell her not chocolate cause I’m allergic. She says she remembers and leaves and I sit down on my bed again. It’s getting late and the nurse comes back in to give me more medicine and wants to poke me with a needle. I scream and hide from her and she has to get other doctors to hold me down.

“No!” I scream, trying to get away. I start to cry, “No Mother!” I yell. I feel sick and scared and I hate needles. “S-stop!!!” The nurses try and calm me down but I hate needles and as soon as I see it go into my skin I pass out.

I wake up a little while later and it’s dark. I’m in my hospital bed and its warm, I don’t ever want to move. My arm doesn’t hurt anymore and I wish I could stay here forever. I like the hospital, except for the needles. But everybody is so nice to me and I want to live here instead but I have to go home tomorrow. I don’t want to go ‘cause Mother will be mad and hit me. Why does she hit me? Why does she say I’m bad? Why can’t I be like a good boy? Why doesn’t dad stop her? Why doesn’t she love me? Why can’t I be normal? Why, why. why?

I don’t understand. I fall back asleep.