Point
of View Alteration of Popular Mechanics
Early
that day it was very chilly and I turned and noticed that the luminous white
fluff on the window was melting into what seemed to be dirty water. Streaks of
it trickled down from the little shoulder-high window that faced my family’s
backyard. Some of the white fluff sort of slushed by on the blacktop outside, where
it was getting very dark and daunting. But it was getting dark on the inside
too, my parents were upstairs.
I
heard many items being slung around, when my mom went to check on dad. The
screaming I heard short after made me uneasy and I threw up onto the living
room floor. All I heard was my mom’s curdling voice, “I’m glad you’re leaving!”
There was no response, as I continued to hear such items slung into something.
My
mom began to scream at my father once again, I was deeply frightened. There
were many words I could not make out that my mom kept repeating over and over
again. I finally heard a faint murmur of my dad’s voice; “Bring that back.” is all
I could make out. As she came down the steps, her face red with anger and eyes
filled with tears, she was fearfully grasping hold of a frame that had a
picture of what so closely resembled me. She noticed the mess I had previously
made in the floor and picked me up and took me into the kitchen.
My
dad was quick to follow her down the steps, as he switched off the lights upstairs;
he was holding a large case of something and was wearing his gigantic coat. My
mom held me in the doorway of the small kitchen, watching my father with
intense eyes. I tried to call for him, he did not answer.
I
remember seeing my dad’s brow start to curl as he said, “I want the baby.” At
first I was .pleased as if he wanted to hold me, but his face was not inviting.
I began to cry. “Are you crazy?” my
mother queried.
My
parents began to bicker and yell once again; I cried even louder. My mother,
uncovered the blanket covering the top of my head. “Oh, oh” she said, looking me
directly in the eyes.
Dad
moved toward me and my mom. She screamed for God, while taking a step backwards
almost dropping me in the floor. “I want the baby.” said dad. “Get out of here!”
exclaimed mom.
She
turned with me in her arms holding me in the corner of the stove. Suddenly I felt
a harsh grasp around me, I looked up, and it was my father. He reached across
the stove and tightened his hands on me. I tried to free myself but I could
not.
My
parents both had me in their hands, shouting at one another. “Let go of him”, “Get
away, get away!” was a concurrent tone. My face was burning and I was
screaming, I could not move, I was being dictated by my own two parents; I became
a doll to them. While the two were tugging me they knocked down my favorite feature
of the entire house, the beautiful flowerpot that hung behind the stove. Oh how
I loved that flowerpot.
Things
had become much worse, my father crowded mom into the wall, trying to break her
grip from me. I was just hoping that the unbearable pain would go away from my
benign body. The grip of the two was becoming even harsher as dad held on to me
while pushing with all his weight to release me from my mother’s slipping hands.
Pulling
me even harder my skin began to ache, “Don't”, she said,” You’re hurting the
baby.” “I'm not hurting the baby”, declared my dad. The two bickered on but
without regard to me, their son.
There
was no light shining through the window and it was completely dark inside the
kitchen when my dad tried to unwind mom’s fisted fingers from my body with one
hand, while holding me tightly with the other. I began to scream like no other.
For
a brief moment I felt a relaxation because my mom’s fingers were plying open,
by this time I did not care what happened, I just wanted to be free of the severe
pain from the pulling on my body.
“No!”
my crying mother screamed as her hands came loose from my elongated arm. She
would not let me go! In a split-second she grasped my other arm. She tightly
locked her hands around my wrist and leaned back. My dad would not give in; he
pulled back suddenly very hard. The tugging of my undermined flesh became
unbearable.
