My Shadow

By Jesten Kammers

 

              I remember sitting on the dirty and worn-out stool I usually consumed breakfast on, reflecting upon how my life was bland and how every day seemed just like the last. I was pleading to God for something to change, anything at all. I wanted more than anything to escape the painful life I was living. My mother had walked in the kitchen and looked at me, and when she noticed my torn lip and weakened ten-year-old spirit, she said nothing, but I saw sorrow dwelling in her loving blue eyes.  I know she knew about the events that took place in my life but, she remained silent and smiled out a fake and pain-filled smile attempting to cheer me up. We both knew that we were in deep over our heads and there was no escape.

              As the bus came to rescue me from the hell-hole I called home, I dreaded the God-forsaken, cruel place it was headed. At least it was somewhere different. I felt like a marine on enemy ground at school. I was only safe in the classroom, but outside of class it was a war zone. I looked around at all my fourth grade peers as they were joyfully sharing various food items their moms had packed for them. It was a common practice to eat some food on the bus while headed to school. Looking into my lunch box I grabbed my juice and quietly sipped it hoping that Cody would not notice that I had something to eat. Then, right when I thought I had succeeded, he walked over to my seat, which never had someone else sitting beside me, and began to converse with me. “What you got?” he said. I clenched my little blue lunch box with all my strength and mumbled, “nothing.” Before I knew it, my lunch was in the clutches of the demon known as Cody. I would have told the bus driver that he was always hostile towards me, but I was sure Cody would have beaten my face to a pulp, so I always kept quiet.

              Class is where I found most of my peace, the one place I felt totally safe. I knew nothing could harm me there. My teacher was a balding man, although he covered it up with a goofy comb-over, about five feet tall and as skinny as a toothpick. My favorite feature was his hawk-like eyes and his ability to hear as if he had the ears of an elephant. Whenever someone had something to say about my torn face or lack of popularity, he was always there to shut them up. I am still surprised to this day he never caught on to my secret. It was a good thing that nobody ever caught on though. I feared that if the dark shadow that followed me was revealed, it would only be provoked and get worse. Although my teacher was able to keep the feral wolf pack known as my fellow fourth graders off of me in class, in the lunch room and on the playground, I had a different fate awaiting me. I was constantly bombarded with rude and demeaning names and lunch theft. Not that there was much to steal of Cody’s leftovers, but if there was something, left I would either willingly give it up or have to suffer a convincing beating to help me “willingly” give up what was left of my lunch.

              As I returned from recess, I found minimal comfort in the thought of my teacher’s protection. As I looked at the clock mounted on the wall, I noticed that the minute hand was moving a little too fast for my fancy. It was 1:10pm and then it turned into 2:00pm. At that point I noticed my heart racing and my hands shaking. Come 2:30pm it would be time to return to my house where my shadow became something way more physical than just a shadow. When we all had permission to leave the class, everyone else but me joyfully grabbed their bags, put their chairs up, and pranced to the busses. I moved as if my feet were magnets and the floor was steel. My bag was heavy with every book the school gave me because I planned on saving up my homework for the day as a means to escape to my room and not come out until the next morning, and homework was an excellent excuse.

              The bus ride home was quick and painless, although I had always wished it was the other way around. The concept of time racing by when you need it not to, and time slowing down when you want it to race by, was always haunting me. After what seemed like two blinks of an eye, the double doors on the bus flung open and it was my time to get off. As I walked down the driveway, every step grew more and more heavy. I saw that my dad’s car was not in the driveway yet which meant I might have had time to avoid my shadow. When I got in the house, I started vacuuming and cleaning. I thought for sure my dad was going to be proud of me. Once I could not think of anything else to do, I sat down and watched a little Krat’s Kids, my favorite television show at the time. Then I saw it, dad’s car ripping into the driveway like a lion chasing down a gazelle. As quickly and quietly as I could, I dashed to my room and opened my books and started my homework.

              I heard what sounded like thunder; the force of the slammed front door shook the whole house. I was preparing for a terrible night at that point. With all the stomping around and things being slammed down, I knew that things were not going to be pretty for me. After an hour or so, the thrashing about and stomping calmed down, which gave me the impression that dad was outside. I felt safe enough to venture from my room to the kitchen to retrieve some food. Since most of my lunch was either consumed by Cody, or stolen by the wolf pack, I was a little hungry. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich melted in my mouth. I knew that if dad caught me in the kitchen without it being dinner time, he would become angry, so I ate quickly, but not quickly enough. Dad stormed into the house and stomped up to me. Before I could react, he ripped the sandwich from my hand and threw it in the trash. He then started screaming at the top of his lungs about how I was overweight and how I needed to wait until dinner to eat. After the screaming I stood there and looked into his worn, hate-filled face and he pushed me to the floor then exclaimed that I would be hurting if I was not out of his sight in three seconds. So I bolted to my room and buried myself in my homework.

              After a few more hours, my homework was complete. I almost thought I got off easy, but suddenly I heard his thunderous voice roar, “Jesten” across the house. Then I heard stomping coming from the kitchen down the hallway. I knew that not only was my dad stomping down the hallway, but also the beating of my life. Every muscle in my body tightened. Once he entered my room, he stood for a second staring at me. Then, he started shouting in what sounded like a different language. I could not really understand him, but I did understand the words, “crumbs on the kitchen counter”. Suddenly, it became hard to breathe I felt his abnormally large hands raise me up in the air by my neck. I thought for sure that I would die this time, or at least pass out. Right when I thought I was going to be lucky enough to faint he slammed me to the floor. Before I could apologize, his heavy body was on mine. With each blow to my face, the pain became less and less intense until I could only feel blood running down my face.  My sister heard the commotion and came to my room and made a feeble attempt to pull him off me but, he was unstoppable. Finally he decided that I had learned my lesson. When he left I went to the kitchen to clean up my face and tend to the places where his knuckles had ripped craters.

              When my mom got home she saw my face worse than it had ever been. At that point mom stormed into her room to meet my dad and said that if he did not go to anger management she would leave and take us with her. After her discussion, he came into my room and said he was wrong, like he usually did, and reassured me that he was not going to ever harm me like that again. I was skeptical of his reassurance because I had been told that he was going to be nice many times before, but the reassurance was pleasant.

              Over time, my beatings became less severe. My dad’s anger management classes were working well. About six months later the beatings immensely decreased. My shadow was finally being overpowered by light. Although was still grumpy frequently, the change was amazing. I still had to deal with Cody and the wolf pack at school, but now that I was worrying less about the home beatings, Cody started becoming easier to deal with. Throughout the years, my relationship with my dad has grown and we are close now, even through my parent’s divorce. Although my past was unpleasant, I have realized that it’s the hard things in my life that have shaped who I am today and getting through it and remaining positive has given me strength to, in the words of Joe Dirt “keep on keeping on.”