I remember being extremely sick when I was 5 years old. My mother kept me inside all day and wouldn't let me play with other children. I was always upset because I didn't really understand why she wouldn't let me play. She would just smile and explain to me about how I was very sick, then she would run her hands through my dark brown hair and call me her little soldier, Private Valentine.
I remember my mother's long black hair, which she always had in a pony tail. I remember her emerald green eyes and her pale white skin that glowed. I always thought that she was beautiful, she was so kind and sweet to everyone she met.
Then there was my father.
My father was an awful man and I knew that since the day I was born. Everyday he would beat my mother senseless and there wasn't that much she could do anything about it. I remember asking my mother about the bruises and cuts on her arms and face. She would just say that she had an accident and that there was nothing to worry about. I knew better though, I had seen 1 too many times how my father hurt her. Every time I would see her get hurt I wanted to stop him, but I knew there wasn't anything I could do.
Then 1 night when my mother was being beaten, I had enough of it and charged at him. He pushed me down with ease and continued to beat my mother black and blue. My head had hit the floor too hard and I went unconscious.
When I came to, I was in a hospital bed with a gauze wrapped around my head. My Aunt Xandra and my Uncle Blu were sitting beside the bed. They told me that my mother and father were gone and they wouldn't be back for a long while. They took me to their house and raised me. Every day I would asked if my mother was going to come back, they never really answered me, they always answered with the same word, 'soon'.
I would wait for my mother beside the window everyday, soon I got better and was able to go outside, but I would just sit outside in the grass and wait for her. I waited for her for years, then I just gave up, I realized that she wasn't coming back, not anytime soon anyway. I would remember her getting beaten by my father and wonder if he took her away from me.
Well, in a way I was right, he did take her away from me.
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