A memory

A man looking back on his last memories of childhood, during which his adult life is not only scared - but wrent apart.

“Michael! Michael! Please don’t leave" she wrestled with her tears for the right to speak ,"not again.” The woman, my mother, stuttered as she tried to talk, to beg, then began crying " silently weeping into the silvery folds of her nightgown. The man showed no remorse as he turned slowly, uncaringly, to gaze down at her shaking body as she stuttered desperately for the words that would make him stay. He flashed her a small smile, not a smile of love or pity. A smile of pure, unaltered malice and the silent pleasure that comes with bringing a trusting woman to the edge of madness. He looked down and laughed his cold, cruel laugh. My mother broke down. Rolling around on the vinyl floor-enveloped in racking sobs which refused to let her plead anymore. My father took his chance to speak.
“I don’t need you anymore, be honest with yourself - did you ever really think that I cared about you. Why would I? Just look at you, wait until he's old enough to understand what a money leaching low-life he has for a mother." He turned his head a inkling to stare in my general direction. "Maybe then he'll hate you as well."
“Michael please… please.” Her last words were cracked with desperation and she turned herself to face the corner of the living room. My corner. I remember that look, a look of utter helplessness - for 30 years I’ve remembered that look. The door slammed suddenly.

My father had left, walking calmly through the front door without a glance back. That’s when she came. The sound of the door locking reverberated around the room, somehow confirming what a child of my age couldn't hope to comprehend. She ran forward and thrust the window open- the breeze pulling her puffy eyelids ajar, forcing her tears down her cheeks to clear a path through the grime that caked her face. She picked me up and lowered me to the grass, the dew wetting my trousers as I landed softly. Her last words would stay, did stay, with me forever. In her rasping but beautiful voice she whispered, “I love you my child… don’t you ever, ever, forget that.” She disappeared from view back through the open window with a dry sob. I had but a moment to decipher what she had said and to try and remember her face in a state that wasn't desperation. I turned my head away from the open window, only the miss the moment when the house erupted into a fiery ball of wasted life, and memories of what could, and would, have been.

Author's Note

The above is only part of my writing. I would appreciate any feedback concerning anything but the story line. It definitely doesn't make sense on it's own. Any tips on writing speech would also be appreciated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.