The Breaking Point
When a young man, the victim of an abusive father and a runaway mother, gets to a crossroad, he must decide what path to take.
Prologue
The boy turned and looked up into the grotesque snarling face of the man on top of him. Before he could cry out for mercy, the fist of the man smashed into his face before he could turn away. Raising up his hand defenceless, whimpering and cowering to put some distance between himself and his attacker, the young man took urgent steps away from his angry and ruthless attacker.
"Please, please, I won't do that again. I will fill the water when I am supposed to. Pleaseee.." He screamed as he watched his assailant raise his hand once more.
His plea fell on deaf ears as once again his attacker rained more blows all over his face and body. The more the young man whimpered, the more blows he received until unable to bottle the agony, his whimpers became loud agonizing sobs which further infuriated his attacker and caused him to unleash rage and fury.
In contempt for the cowering young man before him, he yelled.
"You dared to disobey me? How dare you? That woman did the same thing and you think you will get away with it? I will show you who is in charge here. Your mother was a worthless piece of trash."
The young man looked into the eyes of the man who was attacking him and all he saw was hatred. A deep hatred for him and he wondered what he had done to deserve it.
He did not ask to be born this way. He never asked to be like this. It was not up to him. He never asked his mother to do what she did. Why was he the one to bear the brunt of it all?
He turned around to ask for help from those who sat by watching but no one would. The two young men and woman looked on without raising a finger.
He looked in anguish at those who ought to fight for him and rescue him. He eyes looked at each one of them and pleaded." Pleaseeee". He screamed. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. When one of them tried to help, the attacker gave him a warning look. He stepped back, fear written all over his face. The attacker had done a good job in brainwashing them. They did his bidding whether they liked it or not. He had turned them against each other.
The man turned back to his target, a gleam of manic rage and satisfaction glowed on his face as he rained his fist into the young man at his feet. He turned on him with all his might and plowed into the defenceless soul who put up no fight to defend himself. Blood spattered on his shirt as he let loose one punch after the other grinning and grunting with satisfaction. Spent of his rage he left his victim crouched in a fetal position on the floor weeping helplessly as his onlookers looked on, helpless tears running down their faces. This was their brother, their older brother and the man who had taken such pleasure in abusing their brother was their father. He had done this because he knew word would get back to their mother, what he had put her precious son through. Word would get back to the woman who had dared to betray him.
This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.
© 2019 Moriamo Onabanjo