This work contains depictions of sexual acts.  If you are not above the age of 
18, or 
viewing erotic fiction is not allowed in your area, please do not read any 
further.  All 
rights reserved by the author.  Consent is given for electronic or printed 
copies for 
personal use.  Archiving to free sites is permitted.

Since it was mentioned that October is Domestic violence Awareness 
month, and since 
this subject is important to me, I wrote this short tome.  It holds 
some basic facts from 
true cases that I know about (I got to see the aftereffects), but 
combined to become a 
story that could (and probably does) happen.  It does contain graphic 
violence and may 
not be for the faint of heart.

Cheryl  (violent, no sex)

Cheryl sat in her bedroom trying to make sense of it all.  She hugged 
her pillow close to 
her 13 year old body substituting the inaminate object for the warmth 
of  someone real.  
She needed the love desperately but it was not forthcoming.  In the 
dark of her bedroom, 
she was crouched in the corner of her closet.  She could not get away 
and this was the one 
place she could hide.

Through the wall that separated her room from the living room she could 
hear the sound 
of a body being thrown around.  She heard a lamp go crashing to the 
floor and then the 
body following.  That body was her mother.  She could imagine the 
brutality that was 
going on in the other room.  And she knew what would happen if she 
tried to stop it.  She 
knew firsthand the pain inflicted by her father's wrath.  She had 
screamed at him to stop 
hurting mommy.  He had backhanded her with enough force to send her 
into the stove, 
knocking her cold.  She woke up to find her mother holding her.  As bad 
as she felt, her 
mother looked worse.  Her eyes were both swollen and her lips were 
twice the size they 
usually were.

Cheryl looked at her mother and asked "Why can't we just go away from 
here?"

He mother answered "I have taken you and left.  He always finds us.  
The last time was 
when we went to Uncle Gary's.  He made some threats to kill us both if 
we didn't come 
back, and I believe he would have done it.  From now on you need to 
stay in your room 
when he gets this way.  I have to keep him from using you too."

"But Mommy, why does he do this to you?"

"I guess it is my fault most of the time.  Your father was raised in a 
strict household.  
Your Grandpa was the head of the house and he allowed nobody to have 
any control but 
him.  Now your daddy expects the same thing in his home.  I know this, 
but I sometimes 
don't have dinner ready when he comes home.  And I will sometimes say 
things that sets 
him off."

Cheryl did not think these things were bad enough to get what her mom 
got.  None of her 
friends' parents seemed to be like this.  She never had any friends 
over because she never 
knew when her Daddy would be in a bad mood.   She wished for the life 
she saw on the 
sitcoms on the television.  The parents on there loved their kids.  
They never hit their kids 
or each other.  And they were happy.

The time before tonight had been the worst for Cheryl.  She had let 
something slip at 
school and a counseler had started checking into her home.  When her 
Daddy found out 
he was furious and had taken off his belt and beat her until she had 
bruises all over her 
butt and legs.  The pain was awful and it seemed that he would never 
stop.

Tonight was different though.  Her daddy had come home and found that 
her Mom had a 
couple of suitcases packed.  She had told Cheryl to pack one of her 
own.  It was hidden 
under her bed.  He went into a rage.  After the first punch, she had 
ran into her room.  She 
heard her daddy go into the bedroom and throw things out of the closet.  
Then he 
stomped downstairs and demanded to know where the gun he had hidden 
was.  Her mom 
told him that she didn't know about any gun.  That was when he really 
started in on her.

Her mother didn't know where the gun was.  But Cheryl did.  She crept 
out of the closet 
and pulled the piece of cold gray metal out from under her mattress.  
She heard silence 
from downstairs now.  Then the footsteps that came closer to her door.  
She heard the 
knob rattle then the door shatter as her daddy kicked it in.  She 
closed her eyes…..


The police arrived a very short time later to a scene that sickened 
them.  The body of a 
woman was on the living room floor.  Her broken face and body looked 
barely human.  
Upstairs they found a little girl sitting in her closet holding a 9 mm 
pistol.  There were 
tears streaming down her face.  In front of her was a male body.  And 
the little girl was 
saying over and over, "Daddy please don't hurt us anymore.  Please, no 
more"  

~~~FIN~~~

