|
|
By Laura Mitchell (a.k.a. BlindzonElyzon)
Disclaimer: The characters are the creation of my imagination. However, their circumstance is one that truly exists for far too many families. Copyright December 2, 2000.
Violence Warning: Violence is represented and graphically portrayed in this piece.
Acknowledgements: Chantal, this would have never gotten done without your encouragement and occasional threats. As always, thank you for being there for me and even more, being here sooner. <G And too Sir Kamelot, my indebtedness continues. As always, thank you for…everything. You’re a dear friend. Lastly, to our Elfen Queen Lariel, there were times I was definitely not thanking you for posting this challenge in the first place. It tested me to say the least and because of that and the initial encouragement you gave, I can now say thank you.
Clarification: My mother asked me to include this section. This is not based on actual events in my own life or childhood experience. Sadly, it is based on that of a very special person and loving friend.
Feedback: If you feel inclined to do so, it will be appreciated and responded to. Please send your feedback here: Blindzonelyzon@aol.com
* * *
The answer is not always
what it appears to be. Often, on the
surface, what is deemed to be the solution may in turn be the truer
problem. However, there can be a type
of blindness that goes deeper than any physical manifestation. A soul can be
blinded by so much more, enveloped in the darkness of hatred and anger. And sadly enough, these emotions can consume
its bearer.
Such is the case with
Hanna.
* * *
The weekly meeting with the
school counselor had become more of a ritual for Hanna, rather than anything
therapeutic. The fact that she was made
to attend these appointments in the first place due to her grades falling and
troubles at home, didn’t help, but Hanna didn’t trust Mr. Joiner and therefore
kept her thoughts to herself.
Hanna sat in front of Mr.
Joiner as usual. Unwilling to make eye contact, her face expressionless and
barely uttering a word in response to a posed question, she allowed her mind to
wander. Escaping into her own thoughts
had become habitual of late, something that allowed her to cope with the
reality around her. Which she wanted no part of. Reality had even begun to creep into her night dreaming,
distorting it and waking her in terror.
The only time she truly was free of her life was in her daydreams, the
ones she had more control over.
A voice crept into her private wanderings through glimpses of time
spent with her family. Her mother, at the dinner table. Expressions of happiness and an air of
contentment, as the two sat together talking and laughing.
The intrusion now drew her back to conscious thought.
“Hanna?”
Knowing acknowledgment of
some sort was required, yet not having heard the question, Hanna did what she
always did. Shrugged her shoulders, never once looking in his direction. She continued to cast her gaze outward to
whatever lay beyond the smudge covered window.
Trying to resist further, the vision slipped into another. She could hear her name being said and
the echoing sound of laughter as she played on her swing. Her mother smiling behind her, pushing her
higher and higher.
“Hanna, did you hear
me?” Mr. Joiner voice was steady and
unreadable.
She tried to respond in a
manner that would elicit the least amount of additional explanation,
“Yeah.”
A slight exhalation of
breath could be heard just prior to Mr. Joiner’s question. “So then, tell me what I said.”
Hanna sat there, neither
moving nor making an attempt to speak.
She was uncomfortably aware that she was being watched intently and yet
she remained still.
“I gather from your lack of
response that you do not recall what has been said.”
“No.” she said flatly.
“Good. Finally an honest
answer.” Mr. Joiner’s chair scraped the
tile floor as he pushed it back to stand.
Moving out from behind his cluttered desk, he moved to look out of the
window.
Hanna’s usual view
obstructed, she realized that this was the first time she ever really looked at
the man. The middle-aged man’s
appearance was that of any typical white male school administrator. Balding, grayish hair, on the short side of
male height, white-shirted with rolled up sleeves and loosened tie, navy blue
slacks, all presented in a slightly rumpled manner. Somewhat fascinated with the lack of individuality he portrayed,
Hanna found herself staring at the man.
Without being fully aware of
it happening, Mr. Joiner had shifted from foot to foot enough to have turned
partly in her direction. Now looking at
her directly, he only said, “hazel.”
Unsure of his meaning, a
puzzled expression quickly crossed her face before returning to its normal
demeanor.
“Your eyes, they’re hazel
and this is the first time I’ve seen them.”
His words were said as if in observation rather than as a
commentary. He continued, “I would have
been concerned if you had heard what I said just then,” he nodded in the
direction of his desk, “because I’ve said nothing since you got here.” He glanced down at his watch. “For half an
hour, we’ve been sitting in silence.”
Hanna remained unmoving, not
yielding eye contact and for the first time, she was mildly curious as to what
the man before her was saying.
Leaning back to rest against
the heat register under the window, Mr. Joiner fixed his position to face Hanna
and meet her at eye level. “Hanna,
you’ve been coming here for five sessions and in each one, I’ve done most of
the talking.” He hesitated before
continuing, “I would like to be able to help you Hanna, be the person you can
talk to about what is happening with you and at home…but I can’t force you to
tell me anything you don’t want.”
The only acknowledgment she
gave him was the blinking of her eyes, yet somehow this was signal enough for
Mr. Joiner to continue.
“Hanna, is your father still
living at home?” The question was said
softly, no hint of demand, only that of concern.
Hanna didn’t know why,
couldn’t figure it out within herself, but found herself answering mutely and
with a slight nod of her head. Her eyes
remained fixed on his. She found
herself wanting to break free; sudden panic as if trapped…caught... and yet she
remained still.
Years of practice in
covering her emotions, denying them to come forth and present themselves, of
burying them deep within. Hanna had
perfected this blunted exterior all in self-preservation. Necessity taught her well, as did
ridicule. And yet, she felt the control
slipping away, and she couldn’t understand why.
“Is he still hurting her?”
he inquired gently, coaxing the truth out from behind its protective
walls.
She felt as if her body was
going to explode from the tension, the inner turmoil. Wanting to hold this information back, keeping the family secret
was a lesson she learned quickly and yet now, something deep within her was
trying to push the truth to the surface, releasing it. The conflict raged within her, but only
shone in those hazel eyes and with that, he obtained the confirmation he was
seeking.
“I’m sorry for this.” He
said sincerity evident in his tone. “I
can only imagine what you have been through and what you may feel…or maybe not
let yourself feel, because of all you’ve seen and lived with.”
She couldn’t understand it,
how this was happening, the invasion into her thoughts. She could feel the loss of control growing
and continued to battle it. Somehow
this man was getting in where he didn’t belong and Hanna had no idea as to how
or why she was allowing it, or even more, how she could stop it. Passive escape is what she had learned, to
within herself and the place she had made safe, and somehow he was gaining
unwanted entrance.
Sensing her fragile state
and mounting fear, he knew if he pushed too far now, he would lose her
altogether. She had done more today in
facing the demons she lived with, than she had ever in her life. Knowing this, he had to provide a safe way
out for her, an avenue of further revelation, not retreat.
“Hanna, I would like you to
do something for yourself. I want you
to write about your life…” He paused seeing the barely noticeable flinching
motion at his words. Continuing, he
said, “But not of your life as it is now, instead how you would want it to be. However you would wish your life to be,
write about it.
Mr. Joiner said nothing
further, allowing what he had said to sink in and be processed by the silent
girl. The panic that had been visible
in her eyes was now receding and being replaced with a thoughtful look.
“Good.” He knew she had
already begun. “I want to see you back
here on Thursday at two.”
Without hesitation, Hanna
rose from her chair to leave. Before
she could turn the door knob, Mr. Joiner spoke to her again, “Hanna, take care of yourself.”
She slipped from the small
office saying nothing and quickly closed the door behind her.
* * *
Hanna had delayed the
inevitable as long as possible, but she did eventually have to go home. The
shortened days and early darkness of nightfall, robbing her of the extra hours
alone and away. The alternative to staying out was far worse, if not for her,
then for her mother. She had learned that the previous year and refused to
think any more about the consequences for her actions. She just vowed to not do it again.
She entered the house and
quietly closed the door. Unaware she
was even doing it anymore, she stopped to listen, holding her breath, trying to
assess the mood of the home. Detecting
nothing, she slowly began breathing again and continued into the kitchen to get
her dinner before retreating to her room.
Moving throughout the
darkened house, not needing the lights or wanting them, doing nothing to draw
attention to herself, Hanna walked into the kitchen. There, sitting alone was her mother. The small glow of her cigarette providing the only
illumination.
“Mom?”
The single word uttered
seemed to startle the woman, causing her body to jump in response.
“My God Hanna! I wasn’t expecting you home yet.” The words were spoken sharply.
Hanna’s mother pushed back
her chair, nearly knocking it over in her hurry to move to the sink. At the same time, Hanna reached for the
light switch and flipped it on.
In seconds she took it all
in, the smashed plates on the floor, the broken microwave door, shelves and
their contents no longer on the walls, the phone ripped from its perch, and the
blood. Blood everywhere she looked. Hanna could not help but notice how it
clashed with the daisy yellow coloring of the room and found the darkened red
offensive to the brightness.
Her mother kept her back to
Hanna, speaking softly. “I’m sorry…I wanted this cleaned up before you got
home.”
Wanting to ask what
happened, but already knowing the answer, Hanna crossed the room to stand
alongside her mother. It was then she
saw the bruising and swelling on her mother’s face. Gently she reached a hand to her mother’s chin and turned her
face to her. The right eye was swollen
shut and the left was little better.
Traces of blood smeared beneath her mother’s nose and mouth, accentuated
by the darkened circles forming beneath the eyes and over her face. Hanna noted the normally immaculate blond
hair of her mother, now matted and crusted over with dried blood.
Hanna was barely able to
recognize her mother’s face with it being so distorted and deformed by the
swelling and bruising. Looking her over
further, she took note of the torn blouse, ripped at the collar and revealing
additional bruising about the neck.
Smears of dried blood adorned the shirt in a grotesque
pattern, mingled with what looked like food remnants.
Hanna felt the fury welling
inside her. The long ago anger, had at
some point mutated into a latent rage.
Something deep within her that she knew existed and still had some
control over. But not now. Seeing the beautiful face of her mother fall
victim to his assault and defiled in such a vicious way, this was
more than she could withstand anymore.
“I’ll kill him.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth
and barely audible, but the intent was clear.
“No Hanna!” The pleading from her mother cut into her.
“Please don’t say such things!”
She could feel the desperate
grasp on her arm, hear the sound of fear in her mother’s tone, and yet all she
could think of was ending his life.
“Please, please don’t think
like that…he’s gone now…” her mother’s voice choked, unable to speak as the
tears came to the surface and sobs took over for her words.
That very moment became a defining
one in Hanna’s life and without another word spoken, she retreated to her
room.
* * *
Desperately she wanted to slip away to that better place within
her. Hanna searched for the comfort her
imagination provided her, wanting to envision the bedtime ritual she had
created. The one of her mother singing
softly to her, lulling her to sleep with words and love. Yet she could not.
The unwanted tears streaked
her face and angrily she wiped them away.
Thoughts charged by rage raced through her mind. Emotions once suppressed were now
unrelenting in their assault, as if making up for lost time.
Hanna sat on her bed, head
in hands, trying to pull herself back together. Taking in long, slow breaths, she regained her composure and was
able to focus her scattered thoughts. The years of training, stuffing away the
pain and horrors of her life, served her well and her thoughts slipped to safer
grounds. The words from her earlier
session with Mr. Joiner reverberated in her mind, ‘do something for yourself…
not your life now…how you would want it to be…how ever you would wish your life
to be.’
Lying back on her bed, Hanna
fixed her gaze out the window into the blackness of night. Projecting the images forming in her mind
onto the canvas of the moonless sky, she began to view the life she could
create for herself.
* * *
Just coming home from school,
Hanna turned the corner to her home and stopped dead in her tracks. In front of her house, the third on the
left, were her mother and father arguing.
Usually the arguments were kept to the confines of their home, but for
some unknown reason today was different.
Slowly Hanna advanced,
hoping she could go by them unnoticed, trying desperately to make herself
invisible. Only a house away, she heard
her mother yell in defiance, something she never heard before.
“Enough! I’m finished with this and I’m finished with
you!”
Her mother turned and began
to ascend the front steps to the house when her father took action. Lurching forward, he grabbed at her wrist
and pulled her back, turning her to him in the process. Face to face now, he said something,
something Hanna couldn’t hear, yet somehow she knew what it was.
Frozen in disbelief, all she
could do was watch as her father brought his hands to her mother’s throat and
begin to squeeze. Her mother tried to
fight him at first, struggling wildly to escape without success. She grabbed at the hands clenched about her
neck trying to free herself as the color in her face turned from milky white to
a curious crimson red. His response,
maniacal, almost gleeful laughter of his power and control over the helpless
woman in his grasp.
Somewhere deep within her,
at the very core of her soul, Hanna felt the fiery flames let loose. Aversion, refuge, denial were not options
for her. She made the irreversible decision
to stop him…permanently.
Each step taken in his
direction strengthened her resolve.
Hanna came up alongside him and with all her might and hatred, delivered
a smashing blow with her curled fist.
The weight of the impact set him off balance and loosened his grip on
the choking woman. Unable and unwilling
to stop herself, she allowed her own body to ram into his. The end result, his body slamming to the
ground and the wind knocked from him, leaving him motionless.
She felt empowered. She felt invincible. She felt she had to finish what she
started.
Standing over the prone man,
Hanna took vengeance for every blow delivered by her father onto her
mother. Each kick and every punch was
judgement passed and sentenced delivered.
Initially still gasping for air, he attempted to fight off the assault,
but it was in vain. Hanna’s actions
were that of a possessed assailant, striking without hesitation or relent until
her prey moved no more, not even in breath.
It was over. The reign of fear would be no more.
* * *
Clothes and bed sheets were
drenched in sweat. Despite her rapid
breaths and pounding heart drawing her first attention, she did note her lips
contorted into a grin. The nightmare
that had tormented her for so very long, now provided her the solutions she was
seeking and the courage to carry it out.
* * *
There was a change in her,
not a visible one, something less tangible that Mr. Joiner could sense in
her. He watched her come into his
office, sit in the chair in front of his desk, and assume the same position she
had on previous occasions. But there
was something different, he just wasn’t sure what it was…yet.
“Hello Hanna.”
Quietly, she responded,
“Hey.”
Mr. Joiner was not prepared
for the response, none had ever been given before, so he proceeded
cautiously. “Have you given any thought
to what we last talked about Hanna?”
He thought he glimpsed the
slightest makings of a grin, but as fast as it was there, it was gone
again. More definitely he did see the
nod given.
“Good.” There was an excitement churning inside him
now, however not that of a breakthrough, more a gut instinct warning him, a
sense of foreboding. “How about you
tell me the very last part of what you wrote, the wish you created for your
life.”
Her hesitation lingered into
a minute, then two. Niether spoke until
the silence was broken with the slightest of inhalations and the softest of
words, “I didn’t write anything…I dreamt it.”
“Okay, how about telling me
about it. Who was in it?”
“My parents and me.”
She said nothing else,
instead only stared out the window. Mr.
Joiner watched and waited until it became apparent she was going to say no more
without some prompting.
“What were your parents
doing in your dream?”
Quietly she replied, “What
they usually do…” she hesitated slightly, “and more.”
Matching her soft speech, he
pressed further. “What more,
Hanna?”
“He was trying to kill
her.” It was said without feeling or
intonation, mirroring her appearance.
He kept on, ”What were you
doing when this was happening?”
Hanna shifted in her seat,
sitting straighter but still staring out, not showing any emotion for what she
was saying. “I wanted to disappear at
first…I don’t want him to see me…don’t want to see them.” Her countenance began to change with her
next words, a determination creeping over her.
“But then I had to …stop him…”
Mr. Joiner found his own
body reacting to the unspoken words hanging there. His body tense and rigid, leaning forward, he pursued the elusive
statement. “What did you do,
Hanna?”
Cold eyes turned and met
with his. Unblinking she stated, “I
killed him.”
He could see it there in her
eyes, something more than satisfaction, more than determination even. It was the look of one who had finally found
the answer they sought and the courage to carry it out. It was vengeance.
“You want him
gone…forever?”
“Yes.” The coldness of that single word uttered,
caused the hairs on his neck to raise.
“Hanna, do you want to kill
your father now?” Mr. Joiner found
himself holding his breath awaiting the answer.
The lifeless eyes that had
reflected her lack of hope only the day before, now shone brighter and
succinctly she replied, “Yes.”
Even the knowing the answer
to his question before asking didn’t prepare him for actually hearing it. Mr. Joiner knew right there that the girl
before him could be lost forever if he did nothing to stop it. More bluntly than he had intended he asked,
“And if you killed your father, what would happen to you and your mother?”
Stoically she replied, “ We
would finally be safe and…the fear would be gone.”
“And is this the only way
Hanna, to be safe and not afraid?”
A fleeting glimpse of
confusion crossed her face before she responded with, “Yes.”
He saw it and realized the
tormented girl wasn’t completely lost as yet.
“Hanna, if I could help you…and your mother, would you want that?”
She cast her gaze downward
and whispered, “I don’t know.”
* * *
Mr. Joiner had spent another
hour with Hanna, trying to draw the girl out further. She resisted minimally at first to the intrusion into her dream,
but slowly she answered more of his questions until he was able to determine
the fantasy she had created was a reactionary one. No specific plan of killing her father existed. However he did realize if the girl felt so
trapped and saw no other way out, she would neither look for alternative
solutions and the possibility of her someday devising a plan and carrying it
out would be inevitable.
His first instincts were to
discuss the consequences of such an action as murder, even in the defence of
her mother. He wanted to make her aware
of what her future would become and the imprisonment that would occur. He wanted to discuss the effects of her
actions would have on her mother, the guilt, the anger, the grief. Instead he steered the conversation to that
of what Hanna thought she would accomplish with having her father gone. The result she wanted, not the means to
accomplishing it.
Ever so slowly he pried his
way into the dormant dreams of this young girl and discovered what her simple
needs were. Safety. Not only for herself did she want this, but
even more so for her mother. Somewhere
along the way the child felt as though she had to protect the adult. That she
was responsible for her well being. That if she were to do nothing, she could
no longer live with the mounting guilt and turmoil that existed within
her.
Hannah felt ensnared in the
violence that existed in her home. She
no longer was living, only surviving.
He had to help her see an alternative solution, that options were there
and so was the help she needed to act upon them. He wanted to help her find her way again.
* * *
“I have to do it…I need to
keep her safe from him…” The words trailed off uncomfortably.
“Hanna, what is it you want
for you and your mother? What do you
want your future to be like?”
A long silence followed the
questions. Mr. Joiner watched the girl
wrestle with the struggle raging within her.
A muted war as she sat there, shifting slightly in her seat.
“Have you ever thought about
a year from now, what awaits you Hanna?
Do you dream of what your life could be or are you too busy surviving
the moment?”
She lifted her downcast gaze
and looked at him directly, “I escape…we leave…that is what I dream
about.”
“Tell me about it.”
Drawing in her breath, she
spoke, “Sometimes it’s my Mom coming to me, sometimes it’s me going to her…she
tells me it is over with him, we’re leaving for real this time…we move, taking
our things, not telling him when we go or where…we leave…”
“Where do you go
Hanna?”
“Away from here…a place he
can’t find us…somewhere by the ocean, he hates the ocean…someplace he wouldn’t
follow or want to be.”
“What do you feel when you
are there?”
“Freed.”
“Exactly. If you kill him Hanna, you will never be
free…not of him or what he has done to you and your Mom.”
“She won’t leave him! He’s got to be stopped!” The words were spit out in fury and
fear.
“And if you were to do it,
stop him…kill him…you would become the monster he is now. You would never be free of him, you would be
just like him. Is that what you want
Hanna?”
His words struck her just as
if she had been slapped. Shock and
confusion ran across her face followed by disgust.
“That’s not true!”
“It is, Hanna, and you know
it. He has no regard for life, doesn’t
care about how you and your mother feel.
It’s about what he wants and the power and control he has…it would be
the same for you.” He spoke the words more
calmly so they could be taken in to her thoughts, “Killing him would make you
the monster Hanna, one worse than he is now. You would have the ultimate
disregard for life and for what others may feel.” He paused before continuing, “Is that what you want to be…like
him?”
A myriad of emotions fleeted
over her face in response. As if being
assaulted, she flinched and pulled back from his words. The only sound she made was a small whimper
of the painful idea of the possible truth behind his words.
Mr. Joiner slid out from
behind his desk and sat on its edge before her. “Hanna, it doesn’t have to be this way…we can work together to
make this different for you.”
“I don’t know what to do…”
The words were spoken in a small voice, “…she needs my help.”
“And you need mine.” He
gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Let me help you both.“
It was barely a nod of her
head, yet the plea was unmistakable.
* * *
Exhausted from the events
that had taken place, Hanna slowly walked home. Mr. Joiner had discussed with her the Genesis program, a place
for women and their children to go to get a new start, be safe, and learn how
to stop the cycle of violence. She had
sat quietly and listened while he made the phone call to the place finding out
both she and her Mom could go there as soon as tonight. Mr. Joiner wanted to take her home, but she
refused. She wanted time to think, to be alone and clear her mind, but she did
agree to his coming over to the house after she got home and if her father
wasn’t there. Even a worker from
Genesis would meet them at the house, but it was all too much to think
about.
Hanna turned the corner to
her street and stopped dead in her tracks.
There in front of her house were her parents, arguing. A wave a nausea came over her as she felt
her dream come to life.
She began moving toward them
but it was as if everything was in slow motion, seeing the events unfold
clearly and distinctly before her, hearing nothing except the pounding of her
heart. She saw her mother yell at her
father defiantly and turn to go up into the house. She saw her father grab at her mother’s arm and roughly pull her
back to him. She even saw his lips move
as he whispered his threat into her mother’s face and then his hands move to
grasp around her neck.
It was all happening just as
she had seen it in her dream and now she felt her steps quicken into a run,
bringing herself upon him without his being aware. He must have felt her presence and began to look in her direction
just as her fist made contact with his jaw.
The full force of her body was delivered in the punch and sent him
crashing to the ground, the breath knocked from him.
Hanna stood over him,
glowering down on his gasping form, feeling the rage urging her on to finish
him off. She wanted to do what her
emotions willed her to, what her rage screamed at her to go through with. All her muscles were taut, wanting to react
to the commands within her to finish this once and for all, and yet she
hesitated.
She could see it there in
his eyes…the fear. She was the source
of fear, not the recipient. It was a
powerful feeling to have this control over another and somehow, it disgusted
her. All she had imagined she would do,
all she dreamt of doing to gain control of her life, the hatred, the rage, the
guilt, all of it began slipping from her.
The truer solution that she
had been seeking was now becoming clear.
The violence that existed would always be fed with more of its own
kind. Hurting him, killing him would not…could
not be the answer. Another way was
beginning to show itself to her. She
had done what she needed to do, protected her mother, saved her from him. It was now time to do this for herself.
Hanna heard the sound of her
own voice, a low, clear tone, “We don’t want you back…so leave.”
Taking in a long breath and
feeling a stillness come over her, Hanna turned to her mother and said, “ No
more.” She looked directly into her
eyes, “no more will we live like this.”
Her mother could only nod as
she took Hanna’s hand. She reached with
her other, to wipe the tear flowing down Hanna’s cheek and said, “No more,
Hanna.”
* * *
The reflection of one’s soul
is most often revealed in a single act.
Sometimes, the most poignant act is the lack of one, which may lead to
the hearing what truly lies within. And
sometimes, to hear of what is already there, another may need to show the
way.
Such was the case with
Hanna.