One swing of a bat

thoughts from the hospital in November 2014, a bit on the dark side==but we all have our dark sides.

The darkened figure leaned against the court house pillar, waiting on the next few pennies he hoped would come.  The pennies always seemed to be accompanied with insults or offers of a job. He would take a job but the jobs offered were not that of his abilities but shoveling trash or s**t from a barn.

 All that he owned was on his body. Three T-shirts, 1 old coat, 2 pair of pants, 1 pair of socks, 1 pair of shoes filled with holes, and 1 scarf that often served double duty as a hat. 

So many times he wondered how he had found his way to this position in his life; but honestly he knew.  New answers never seemed to come, simply a broken man from all the events that had brought him to stand hoping for a few pennies to be offered.  Life had crushed his world leaving him to avoid life as much as possible.  

_____________________

Don had been the master of his universe at one time.  Anything he set his mind to he accomplished with little effort.  He just decided it would be and it was. Starting in Kindergarten he had been the youngest spelling bee champion at Jasper Elementary.  The word that had won him the gold trophy was benevolence.  Reading was his favorite thing to do and words were his friends.  He carried perfect grades, graduating high school with honors.  Moving onto college with a full ride academic scholarship in Civil Engineering he had hopes that one day he would build a monument that would keep him remembered for an eternity. He hoped it would make a difference in the life of someone who had experienced some of the same troubles that he had faced as a child.  Fate had changed all that in one swift movement of a decision that he could never decide if it had been good or bad.  

Don had never quite fit into the crowd and he did not really mind following his own path.  Being different  did make for some difficult times when he truly needed the thoughts of another, but he managed to find solstice in the books that had become his best friends.  

At two years of age Don learned what it meant to be abused.  His father had smelled of whiskey the first time Don had watched his father slap his mother. His sister Dawn Marie, who had been six at the time the abuse began in their home, pulled him behind the couch to protect them both. Together they had cowered muffling their cries until the whiskey finally won the battle and their father had passed out crashing to the floor.  

Mother had told them that he was just having some bad days and if they all loved him enough it would get better.  As the bad days continued they were encouraged to hide in the closest when the smell was strong, the sounds were loud, and the danger became nearly lethal.  

Dawn Marie had run from the fear into hope thinking she had found a better life at 16 years old.  She had married a man who treated her like a queen until she was addicted to cocaine then he had turned her out to pay for her habit.  She had found that the abuse of childhood had simply given her a higher tolerance for the abuse of adulthood.  

Don had tried to save his sister the night she left because he did not want to be left alone.  When he heard of her fate he promised himself that one day he would save her. Their father had forbid her to ever come back into the home or for he or his mother to ever speak to or about her again.  The repercussions were painful for disobedience so they avoided the subject when he was present or might be home soon. 

While hiding during the bad times Don had discovered a stack of engineering books in a box in the back of his closet.  He would read them by flashlight until the whiskey would accomplish its eventual task.  Don learned all he could from the books in the closet and began to check out more advanced material from the local library.  He found that as long as he could read about the beautiful buildings he might someday build he maintained hope that life could and would get better. 

 

The night before his 15th birthday Don decided that he had hidden long enough.  The level of yelling reached peak early as he heard his parents arguing about how it was the other's fault. His father had screamed that his mother was a w***e so it was no surprise that their only daughter had become a hooker. Don heard his father scream that he would never amount to anything more than a bum. As the voices elevated Don heard his mother's voice as she screamed at her husband to shut his mouth and leave her children alone.  The slap of his father's hand on his mother's face was the deciding moment. Don marked his place in the book deciding that this was the last time that man would ever hit her.  He stood, his mind snapping with an anger that he did not know could exist within his heart.  Every fear he had ever experienced at the hand of his father's rage boiled up from within.  He was done hiding, done listening to the furry of the voices, and done living in fear. 

Leaving the bedroom Don reached for the bat that he had received from his father's father for Christmas.  Moving down the hallway with trepidation in each step, truly unsure of his intentions other than to put a stop to the abusive treatment his mother was receiving. Don moved cautiously not really at a decision but mostly stepping with an inability to stop.

Slowly pushing the kitchen door open and peering in, Don's sight was filled with the fear on the a face he loved cowering in the corner. Her eyes begged him to go back to his room and stay out of it.  Don wished he could give into her, but he had spent a lifetime hoping and praying for the courage to change this; tonight he had found the first step and it was to late to turn back now.  

Stepping through the kitchen door Don's voice burst with anger "This stops today!". His voice was not a shout, but a statement filled with determination that nothing could have changed in that moment. Not moving, just standing readying for the explosion he knew would follow.  His father turned to face him, the redness of his face, as with the blackened hollow emptiness of his eyes, increased the fear that Don felt. Don held his ground despite the increasing fear as the anger that had been directed at his mother now made him its primary target.  

"You mean old b*****d, this stops tonight.  One way or another."  Don stood his ground gripping the bat with both hands, fear and questioning filled his heart.  As his grip tightened his world blackened and was covered in the blessing that is stress induced amnesia.  He would never remember for sure what was to follow.

Screaming filled his world, it was all Don could hear, see, feel, or understand. He was not sure if the screaming was from him, his father, his mother, or a combination of the three but the screaming was all there seemed to be. Time seemed to just stop.

Don felt a hand grab for the bat and he heard his name softly stated. His hands and face were wet, and his father was lying on the living room floor in a pool of his own red liquid.  Officer O'Mally softly repeated his name which drew his attention away from the sight of his greatest success.  He had set out to stop the abuse and stop the abuse he had.

________________________________

The trial had been quick as the jury returned within less than an hour.  Justifiable homicide with no recommendation for sentence or punishment.  The whole town had known that Henry Martinson had been an angry abusive drunk who had many times nearly killed his family.  So many on the jury were surprised that this 15 year old boy had survived this long in the horror that was only discussed in whispered tones around town. People did not want this to happen but they did not want to get involved enough to make it stop. 

  

Mary Henderson had married the only man who had ever paid attention to her.  She had lived though an abusive father and married a man who ended up being just like him. The jury felt only pity for the entire sordid affair. 

Pity was not something Don wanted in his world, yet it seemed that because of his choices it would be a part of his life for years to come. In the eyes that now followed him at every turn he either say pity or fear. Gossip surrounded him until he finished high school, some suspected that he could have done differently and others knew he had faced a no win situation and come out alive.  

College was different because no one knew who he was or what he had done.  Jasper Tennessee was not a big town, did not have a paper of it's own and did not warrant much more than a couple of lines in the Nashville Gazette. Don had chosen to go to college in Missouri.

 Don kept his head down, did his studies, and graduated with his degree.  No honors this time but he had knowledge and that was enough to give him a start. 

Don got his first job working on the Guggenheim Museum

 in New York City.  He wanted to understand the process from the ground up so he started at the bottom and worked his way to the top.  When the building was finished he felt a sense of accomplishment as he had learned much from everyone he had worked with making friends easily.  He had become friends with Frank Lloyd Wright, the designer/architect and looked forward to building upon that friendship in the future.  He had hopes of one day becoming a household name and designing a building that would make a statement within the community that it stood.

Don's second job moved him to La Jolla California to work on the Salk Institute.  He had not been working long when his world started to fall apart.  One of the men, Mr. Jackson, who had been on the jury also worked with him. Mr. Jackson did not seem to remember him at first but Don knew it would not be long.  Don attempted to avoid this man at all cost for fear that something would be said that would tell the world of his past. A past he worked hard to forget and forgive himself for. Two years into the job Mr. Jackson realized who Don was and decided to compliment him.  

Setting at lunch Mr. Jackson walked up, offered his hand to Don and stated with an emotional voice "Son, I am so glad that we could convince the whole jury to keep you out of jail.  I am so proud that you did not let killing your father for his abuse of your mother affect your future."  Mr. Jackson was giving a compliment and  putting a nail into Don's professional coffin at the same time.  Two of the men setting near had heard the exchange and made it their job to share this newly gained information about a murderer with anyone who would listen, especially the bosses.

Payday came that week bringing Don is final check.  He had been expecting to be discovered but not this soon and he never thought it would get him fired.  He hoped that he could avoid being discovered at all; but that was not to be.  The foreman, Allen Peterman, walked up to Don, handed him the pay envelope, and looking him straight in the eye stated flatly "I don't mind working with someone who defended his mother, even if it ended in murder. I won't work with a liar. Don't ever use me for a reference because you won't like what I have to say."  

Don used the money to go home to Jasper and take some time to think.  He figured he could get a job, stay with his mother or sister, and decide what it was he was going to do.  Arriving in Jasper, Don found that life there had not changed.  His mother had found a new husband  who was nearly as abusive as his father had been. Tom Stevenson said he refused to allow someone he would have to live in fear of snapping into his home.  Mother did not want to be alone so Don was not welcome.  His sister had disappeared and not been heard from or seen in almost five years.  Don found he was truly alone in this life.  

Jasper Tennessee residents had a long memory and getting a job was near impossible. Everyone appeared to be afraid he would snap and hurt someone. Don knew this would never happen but there was no way to convince those who had lived here when the events took place.

 Don moved to Nashville thinking that it was a bigger city so he could blend in better.  It worked for a short time until his name and face were once again recognized as the 15 year old who killed his own father with one swing of a bat.

The darkened figure leaned against the court house pillar, words  kept running thorough his mind.  He had heard them from the police that night as well as the trial. Those words had followed him in public and private.  Simple words that had changed a life. "One swing of the bat.  How could he have killed a grown man with one swing of a bat." 

Author's Note

This lines in this story are not taken from anything more than a tired mind that could think of nothing but pain during the moments that this story was developed. No I have have not been abused, I am not mentally ill (at least not on paper), and I have not allowed my children to be beat. I have listened to stories on the news and in my career that are closely related which is scary for it makes this possible.

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

Sorry it took me so long to read this - very much enjoyed your story, Constance!

[Constance Payne]

Thank you my friend. We get to things when we have time. Time is one thing I have very little of right now. :) It is on the dark side, but I guess we all have a dark side.

[....................]

A heart-wrenching story that could be taken from anywhere. I know men who have violently confronted abusive fathers in order to save themselves and their mothers. While your lines may not be taken from an actual event, they resonate a haunting truth that there are families out there like this. Well-done!

[Constance Payne]

Thank you for reading. It is thankfully not from a personal experience; however, I have known many families that struggle through abuse.