Sleeping Part 1

-WAKE UP!

- - -
         
I woke up.  Finally, after close to half a year of sleeping, I woke up.  I don’t mean that I was in a coma, or that I was even really asleep, but it did seem that way.  In reality, I just withdrew, emotionally, from everything.  I didn’t care anymore.  I didn’t care about school, I didn’t care about my friends, hell I didn’t even care about skiing anymore.  I love skiing, but I just didn’t care.  None of the normal high school activities interested me anymore.  Yet I knew that I could just stop going.  I couldn’t act weird.  Cause it’s the weird ones that get the attention and the last thing I wanted was attention.  Because I knew that if the school got interested, they would get concerned.  And if they school got concerned, they would call my mother, who would get concerned as well.  And if my mother got concerned, well…
         But now that doesn’t matter, because I finally woke up.  I woke up and saw the truth, and then I ran.  And now I’m here.  Now everybody wants to know what happened.  I now have people coming up to me asking “what happened?”, “what are you going to do now?”, and “how do you feel?”  How do I feel, that’s a funny question.  I just smile when I hear that one, because it is impossible to tell anyone how I feel right now, or how I’ve felt for the past six months.  I mean, I could say the words terrified, or depressed, or constant fear or helpless, and you would all hear them and think of when you felt similar, but I don’t think anyone would really understand how I felt when I say I was terrified.  I doubt many people have ever truly felt terror.  But I did.  I lived with it for half a year.  That’s what made me sleep.  So if you want to know the story, I’ll tell you.  I tell you how I felt, and how I figured nothing I was ever taught mattered.  I mean, how could ideas like responsibility and justice and fairness, be true if my mom could kill my dad, and get away with it, free and clear?  How fucked up is that?

About six months ago, my life was normal.  I had a dad, a mom, I went to school, and lived in a nice house.  My friends were the normal mix of a couple guys I trusted, and a couple of guys that I didn’t even know why I was friends with.  Like I said, everything was normal.  Or at least everything looked normal.  From the outside looking in, my life was the picture of the modern American dream, successful parents and not a care in the world.  The truth though, if you were on the inside like me, was that my home life was really messed up.  I was surprised that my parents were still together, seeing as how they fought just about every night.  I know that all married couples fight, but this was ridiculous.  Frequently there was a screaming match, and they almost always ended up with someone getting hit.  The weird thing was that while my mom was usually the one who got hit, (I say usually because every now and then, she would haul off and deck my dad) she never said a word to anyone.  She never showed any signs of wanting to get out, or go to the police, or tell friends about her abusive asshole of a husband.  Even when she had to go to the hospital for some of the injuries, she never pressed charges, or got the cops involved.  This was strange to me because I figured that she would want to high tail it out of there as soon as the first blow landed.  But she didn’t.  I found out later why she stayed, but it doesn’t fit into the story just yet. 
Now, like I said, everything was pretty normal or at least, normal for us.  Well, that all changed in one single night.  I came home from school like normal, parked my car across the street, and walked up the sidewalk, pausing to pick up the mail.  Normally when I got home from school, nobody else would home and I would have the house to myself for a few hours.  But not that day, oh no.  Both of my parents were home, but they already weren’t speaking to each other.  I could instantly tell that some thing was wrong.  I mean, why else would both of my parents be at home, sitting on the same couch, but staring directly away from each other and actively ignoring each other.  I walked in, shut the door and dropped the mail on the coffee table.  I started to leave the room when my mother called me over.  Her voice is laced with fake sweetness, it makes me sick.
“Jason, honey, will you tell your father that if he is going to-
My father breaks in, “Jay, tell your mother that she is a stu-”
“Hey, hey!” I broke in, interrupting both of them.  “I don’t know what the hell happened, but I don’t want any part of it.”  Before either of them can say anything, I hurried out of the room.  I heard the fight starting back up again in my wake.
I hated it when they would put me in the middle.  Anyway, the rest of the night went like it always did; me in my room until dinner, when my parents would call me down, put on civil faces and ask how my day went.  My mom did it out of habit, but my dad was always interested.  He would always ask me questions about what I was doing, and what was basically going on in my life, and I would always answer him.  Usually my mom would let us go on and on until our dinner got cold, but not that night.  The more I think about that night, the more and more I realize that everything was off.  I never thought it would end like it did…
Anyway, like I was saying, that night I guess my mom got fed up with our talking.           
“Will you two shut up and eat your food,” she snapped. 
I mumbled compliance and turned my attention to my food, noticing that it finally wasn’t cold for once.  Guess dad and I didn’t talk that long after all.  As I ate, my dad just looked at my mom with words on the tip of his tongue.  He held them back by clenching his jaw, making it work as a dam.  And just like with a dam, the words were pooling up inside my dad, growing.
“Well?” my mom asked, almost shrieking.  “Are you just going to sit there and stare all night, or are you going to eat the food I made for you?”
The dam broke.
“For God’s sake, Mel, don’t be such a bitch.”
My fork clattered onto my plate as I jerked my head up.  In reality, I probably should have ducked, because I figured a bomb was about to go off.  But no, nothing happened.  My mom just calmly stood up from the table and left the room.  My dad just sat there for a minute, then picked up his fork and resumed eating.
“Dad,” I started.  “What the hell is going on around here?”
“You said you didn’t wanna know.” 
“Well, yeah, but now…I don’t know…it seems like something major.”
“Don’t worry about it Jay.”  My dad looked up from his plate and gave me a little wink.  “It’ll be ok.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, so I just finished eating and went back up to my room.  I never would have figured those would be the last words my father said to me.
- - -
I woke up later that night to my parents yelling at each other.  I stayed in bed for a couple reasons.  One, them yelling was nothing new and two; there was no point in getting involved.  It would only give them another target to aim their hostility at.  No, it wasn’t the yelling that got me out of bed; it was when the yelling suddenly stopped.  I figured no one had gotten hit, cause that only made the yelling worse.  I crept out of bed and down the hall to my parent’s room.  The door was ajar and it allowed out a small wedge of light.  I stayed as quiet as I could and moved closer to their door.  I could barely make out what was being said, but it sounded like my dad was asking my mom not to do something.  As I listened closer, I could hear his voice crack, my dad was crying.  As first it was soft, but he kept repeating something over and over, getting louder.  Interspersed with whatever my dad was saying, I could hear my mom telling him to shut up.  Finally, I was able to make out what my dad was saying, “please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, pleasepleaseplease…”
I couldn’t believe it.  My dad was begging for his life.  I didn’t understand what was going on.  I was able to peek in the door, and saw my mom pointing a gun at my dad.  He was on his knees, tears rolling down his face.  I guess even a tough guy like my dad can lose it with a gun pointed at him.  Anyway, there was my mom, my dad, and there I was, crouched outside their bedroom door, not moving, not doing anything.  I mean, I could have, should have said something, or tried to stop my mom, or at the least gone and called the cops, but no, I just sat and watched this scene unfold.  My dad was begging, and my mom was telling him to shut up.  I heard the words, but I can’t remember them.  I know that my mom said something to my dad, but I couldn’t tell you for the life of me what it was.  The only sound I remember was the gunshot.  I had never heard a gunshot before, at least not in real life.  Heard them all the time in movies, but not real life.  It was loud.  If the fight hadn’t woken me up, that sure as hell would have. 
After the shot, things are a blur.  I remember seeing a red stain spread across my dad’s shirt, and I remember screaming.  I pitched myself away from the door and landed on the floor in the hallway.  The door was pulled open, and there was my mom, standing over me, with a gun in her hand.  I have no idea what kind of gun it was, even though it was pointed at me.  Mom stood there for a second, then lowered the gun.  She went back into the room, and when she came out she had put on a nightgown and lost the gun.  She grabbed me and hauled me up off the floor.  As she walked me down the hall to my room, I could feel myself going numb.  Before my mom shut the door to my room, leaving me in the dark, I faintly heard her say, “Not a word.  Do you hear me?  Don’t you say a fucking word.”
I sat down on the bed.  I was still numb from what I just saw.  I remember part of my brain yelling at me.
GET UP, it said.  GET UP AND RUN.
The rest of me was silent, sitting on my bed.
DON’T JUST SIT THERE; YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.
…so tired, the other half of my brain replied.
I felt my body tip to one side; I barely remember my head hitting the pillow.
NO, cried my mind.  DON’T SLEEP, WAKE UP.  WAKE UP!  DON’T GO TO SLEEP…WAKE…UP…
I don’t really remember much else about that night.


Ionia Township Chronicle
Wednesday, October 12th, 2005
Tragedy strikes today, as Bradley McDouglas was shot and killed last night by his wife of twenty years, Melinda.  Police responded to a 911 call placed from the McDouglas home at 2:26AM.  Police found Melinda in the master bedroom, along with the body of Bradley.  Their only son, Jason, was found in his room, apparently dazed from having been suddenly awoken from the gunshot. 
Authorities are unwilling at this time to comment as to the exact nature of the situation.  However, our sources report that this is being viewed as an act of self defense.  It is reported that Melinda had suffered numerous injuries at the hands of her husband over the course of their marriage.  So far two area hospitals have been questioned, and medical records have been subpoenaed.  There is no conformation as of yet whether or not this was an act of self defense.

         I couldn’t believe it.  I saved that newspaper clipping, tearing it out of the paper before mom could see.  I figured she wouldn’t have liked me having it.  I just couldn’t believe that people were thinking this was an act of self-defense when it was flat out murder.  I guess my mom must have told the police about all the times dad had hit her.  And they must have bought it, and went looking at hospitals.  It was only a matter of time before they found the medical records to back up mom’s story, and then it would all be filed away under self defense, and there would be nothing I could do about it.  I figured I had to do something now, while I still could.  I was determined to go down to the police station after school and tell them what I saw.  I had decided all this while eating breakfast and abandoned all plans before my breakfast was finished.  Mom came down and sat at the table.  She had the newspaper article in her hand; she had been through my room!  My food caught in my throat as I stared at that article. 
         “Jason, honey,” she began.  “I know that you are upset right now about what happened.”
         As if upset could begin to describe how I felt.  There were so many things I wanted to say, but something told me to keep my mouth shut. 
         “I know you’re upset, but you have to realize: your father wasn’t the kindest man in the world.  I’m sure you know that he struck me on several occasions.  Last night, things just got really bad.  Your father went crazy, and I was afraid for my life.  I had to do what I did.  I’m not happy about it, but I had to do it.”
         I couldn’t believe it.  Here was my mom, knowing full well that I had seen what really happened, feeding me some bullshit story about how dad was attacking her, how she was the scared one.  I couldn’t stand to hear any of it, but I couldn’t really say anything.  My mom continued talking. 
         “Anyway, I think the important thing right now, is for you and I to support each other, don’t you think? 
         I opened my mouth, amazed at what she was asking.  My mom was asking me to go along with her lies, to ‘support’ her and not tell the truth.  “Mom,” I said, trying to find the right words.  “I don’t know if-” I never got to finish my sentence.
         “I don’t care what you know!”  Mom snapped, getting up from the table.  “I have already talked to the police, and have told them not to talk to you for any reason.”
         “What?  You can’t do that!”
         “Oh yes, I can.  You are still only seventeen, and therefore a minor and I can forbid the police to talk to a minor child of mine.  Besides, what more could you have to tell the police, you were asleep when everything happened.  Anything you have to say to them is lies, and they would know it.”  She leveled a cold gaze at me.  “It would be a shame for anything to happen to you because of telling lies.”
         I stared at my mom, not knowing what to do or say.  She walked away from the table, leaving the newspaper article behind.  She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. 
         “That paper really does some good reporting, don’t you think?  They always get all the facts right.”
         With that my mom left the room, and left me to sort through everything she just said.  It was obvious that she had just threatened me; that if I tried to go to the police something would happen.  I just didn’t know what.  In fact, I didn’t know anything anymore.  I just stood there, mouth gaping, staring at the newspaper article and wondering what I was going to do next.
         That was the moment.  Well, maybe not the exact moment, but it was shortly after that I came up with my idea for what to do.  I think I got the idea because I figured everything had to be a bad dream.  A really bad yet uber-realistic dream: with three-hundred and sixty degree surround sound and ultra-ultra-high-definition picture and color.  I hoped that if I went back to sleep, I would wake back up in the real world, where my dad was still alive and my mom wasn’t acting so cold and evil.  I knew that I couldn’t really go to sleep, just like I knew this was no dream, but I wanted to.  So I figured on the next best thing.  I just checked out.  I gave up, right then and there, on caring about anything.  Like I said earlier, I figured nothing could matter anymore.  It was obvious that my mom was going to get away with what she had done, and it was also obvious that I wasn’t going to do anything about it.  The paper wasn’t really lying, but it wasn’t totally accurate either.  I was in my room sure, but that was after I saw everything.  I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do vaguely remember cops barging in to make sure I was alright.  I probably was groggy, but that must have been from them waking me up when they kicked down my bedroom door.  How messed up is that?  My dad gets killed right in front of me, and I go take a quick little nap.  Shit.  But that must have been the only way my body could deal with the shock, to go to sleep.  Basically, that was the same thing I did when my mom threatened me, I went to sleep, but only mentally.  I figured that the only way I would be able to survive living in the same house as my mom, was to not care about anything.  Because if I cared, living with her would have driven me crazy, maybe even killed me.  And that’s what I did, for half a year, is slept through everything.  I did that for six months, and I bet you want to know how that went.  I don’t mind telling you, but you’ll have to wait a second, I gotta use the bathroom.