A Glimpse Into The Daily Lives of Many Children

I picked up the belt. Its silver studs glistened in the bright white light, and its pink leather irritated my palms. I knew I was going to regret this later. I gripped hard with unrelenting rage.

“Bend over.” I said.

“No! I only ate a little bit.” My son said.

“Pants off! Now, Garret!”

“Please, I won’t do it again.” He said, pulling down his brown skinny jeans.

I pulled back and took my first hit. The belt slapped down loudly and my rage had instantaneously traveled through the belt and onto his skinny pale thighs as a red welt.

“Ouch!” He yelped

“You know better than this! You are going on fourteen years old!”

“Stop! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“You know better than to go through my stuff, you little bastard!!” I said, whipping him in the face. He turned back around, blood trickling from the corner of his sad blue eye.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was a regular cookie! It was out on the counter!” He wept.

“No, you knew! I’m sick and tired of dealing with this! I pay good money! In fact, 54 dollars straight out of my wallet for that cookie. It’s high quality you know. I have to travel into the city. 54 dollars which go straight to your medical bills!” I yelled, rapidly striking him three more times, twice in the face and the third on his bare buttocks.

“I’m sorry.” He lamented loudly.

“No you’re not. You knew that was a northern lights cookie! It had a label! In plain English, in bold green letters! You knew! You just like getting on my nerves don’t you? You like getting a reaction from me! If that’s how you want to play with me, then you can just pack a little suitcase and get the hell out of my house! You’re not even my real son! I don’t need you in my life!” I screamed

“No! I swear, I thought I may have been green tea flavored! Just relax!” He screamed, tears of pain streaming down his face.

“There are no green tea cookies, you dumb little ass!” I said, spitting on him.

“I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do anything to get you to stop this right now. I’ll watch no television for a week, I’ll clean the house for a month. Just stop hurting me!” Garret screamed.

“Do you like getting heart palpitations? Do you like being paranoid? Do you like eating until you throw up? Do you like being at the hospital getting your stomach pumped?” I screamed.

“No.” He said.

“Well if you do, then you might as well keep on prowling through my stuff then, I just might have to get used to that! Because the world only revolves around Garret! Wrists out and shirt off!” I said. He reluctantly removed his shirt, and put his wrists before me. I then lashed his wrists until they gushed with blood, then I lashed his back leaving several streaks of rage. Then I wrapped the belt around his I squeezed tighter and tighter. I was so through with him, I just wanted him gone. He gasped for air. The sharp studs on the belt dug into my hand and three broke loose. My hands sweated against the hot leather and the sweat seeped into the weak spot toward the middle, and the belt snapped in half. Garret gasped for air, blue, and terrified. He ran off into his room and locked the door. I stared at my bleeding hands in terror, my rage gone; yet guilt overwhelmed me. I then walked away, holding my own tears back.

This is a short story I wrote as a character development exercise. This story symbolizes only some of the abuse children endure every day. This is what countless children in the US have to endure daily, and the government does little or nothing about it.