Dad's dark side

My brothers and sister if given the chance would almost always sell each other out. I'm amazed at times that none of us ever went into politics. Yet there were a few times that we all stood up for each other.

When I was five my Dad was still not the man he would one day become. Even after being shot by Mom a couple years earlier Dad continued to drink heavily.( Dad would say later that a alcoholic would not stop drinking till he hit rock bottom. Appartently Dad's bottom was somewhere south of having his wife put slugs in him.) And he sometimes still hit Mom. On those nights that he would hit Mom it was understood that we kids would not interfere or make any noise at all lest we get hit. Sometimes I could run in between them crying and hold Dad and ask him not to hit my Mommy. Most times it worked. Dad was always very carefull not to hurt me ( lest I break apart into 5 very messy pieces.) so I was the only one who could do this.
On one night it was very bad. The worse since Mom had shot Dad. All of kids stayed in one room together waiting for it to be over. I looked out of the room and saw what was happening in the kitchen. Dad was more drunk and angry then I had ever seen him before. I saw blood on the white kitchen cabinets and started screaming. I started to run into the kitchen but Steve tried to grab me. I slipped out of his grasp and ran inbetween Mom and Dad.
"Stop hurting my mommy!" I screamed hoping it would work again.
Dad enraged beyond all reason hit me. I was shocked . He had never ever hit me before. I fell on the floor and Dad went back to beating my mother. I ran to the window of our 4th floor apartment and started screaming at the top of my lungs. I saw Dad stop hitting Mom and look over at me. For a second I honestly thought he was going to pitch me out the window. He started coming my way. Before he could get there Steve ran to a differnt window and started screaming for help. In seconds all the other kids took their cue from Steve and were shouting out windows. I think Rose shouted out the same one as me. Dad would pull one of us back and the other four would shout louder. All the while Mom stood in the kitchen crying.
Very soon police arrived. Mom gave her old story that nothing was going on.( all the while having her face covered in blood) The police never did like to get invovled in "family disputes" never pressed the issue. Mom did say she was leaving and the police waited while she got coats on all of us . Dad stood in the kitchen with a look on his face that made me afraid. Finally we left. Mom told Dad that she wanted him out by the next day.
As we were walking down the apartment stairs Dad threw a table chair down the steps at us. The police told us to just keep walking. We walked for a long time it seemed. Later we ended up at My Grandmothers. (Dad's Mom) She told Mom that she should leave Dad for good.
The next day Dad was gone from the apartment. Mom of course didn't kick Dad out for good. He came back in a few weeks.
Mom got lucky. Dad did change eventually for the better. But she's the exception to the rule. A vast majority of abusive drunks never do change. She should have left him.
I don't write this to make my Dad out to be a monster. ( though he certainly could be back then) Dad's a real person. It wouldn't have meant so much that Dad changed if he had started out as a warm and fuzzy guy . ( For the record my Dad is not now nor has he ever been ,warm and fuzzy). I've said it before and I'll say it once again. Dad's lesson to me is that you can always become a better person. I can't show you that better person without showing you the worst of him.
Anyway next time I'll write about something funny again.
Honest.