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Ameerah Angelina OX1

ELC's Got Talent


A day I'd rather forget


My father is a bad-tempered man. He would get angry over the slightest thing that doesn't go his way. I suppose that may be attributed to the fact that he is always exhausted after a day of work and expects everything to be 'in-tune' when he gets home.


* * *


There was once when my brother and I got my father really mad. We had broken a glass in the kitchen. My father, who happened to be napping in the living room, woke up to the sound of the glass breaking.

Quickly, he ran into the kitchen. When he saw what had happened, his face flushed in anger. He screamed at us as we ran to our room upstairs. When he finally reached the door to our room, he held up a belt and we knew instantly what he was going to do with it. He was going to hit us with the belt to teach us a lesson. We cried in terror.

'Come here!' he shouted. 'Naughty kids need to be punished!'

Just then, my mother got home from work. When she walked into the living room, she found it unusually empty which made her wonder why.

Suddenly, she heard my father yelling at us. She realized it was coming from upstairs. She dropped her handbag and hurried up the stairs. I can still remember the pain and worry etched on her face.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she found my father standing at the door with a belt in his hand. Then, she saw us crouching in the corner of the room, sobbing. Her face paled when she saw us looking helpless and defenseless. It always worried my mother every time my father got into one of his rages.

When she realized that my father was going to hit us with the belt, she ran between my father and us. The belt bit into her right arm causing a red mark. She twitched in pain as a tear rolled down her face. I could see the humiliation, but yet a sense of satisfaction that she was able to defend her children and save them the pain.

'Get out of my way!' my father raged on, even though my mother had just got hurt.

My mother stood in the same spot, without moving, defying my father in order to protect us.

'They broke the glass in the kitchen and they deserve to be punished!' he thundered.

'They're just kids! Can't you just forgive them?' she shouted back, her voice starting to break as more tears streamed down her cheeks.

'They're just kids and that's why we have to teach them not to be naughty before they grow up and cause more problems!'
'But whipping them won't solve anything!' my mother cried.

We sat in the corner and cried. We closed our eyes because we couldn't bear to see what was happening. We were trembling with fear, and felt useless at the same time, because we couldn't do anything and yet, we knew it was our fault that my father was angry.

'You're useless!' Stop protecting them! Troublemakers ought to be disciplined!'

'They're not troublemakers! They're just kids!' she pleaded stubbornly.

For that, she received a slap across the face. She gasped.

Then, my father stomped down the stairs. My mother sobbed and went into the bedroom and locked the door. Soon after, she emerged with a bag filled with clothes.

She kissed my brother and I on the forehead. All three of us, faces flushed with tears, sobbed even more when my mother walked out the front door, started the engine of the car and drove away - away from the house, from my father … and us.

My father didn't say a word about my mother after that. He jut stayed in his room, while we locked ourselves in our room, sulking and sobbing the whole time.

I'd blamed myself, wishing I hadn't broken the glass; wishing that everything was all a nightmare and that I'd wake up in the morning to find my mother in the kitchen preparing breakfast and smiling at us.

But no matter how hard I wished, how much I hoped, how much I cried, mother was … gone. Thinking that, more tears rolled down my cheeks and I screamed in frustration. Why was this happening to my family? Why?Father heard the scream but still stayed in his room, refusing to come out.

It was midnight, and I was still lying on my bed, crying silently, not wanting to wake my brother up. Then, I heard the sound of a car engine. After a while, the faint sound of keys from downstairs mad me sit up. Was mother back? Could that be mother? I thought to myself. I jumped to the sound of the bedroom door opening. And there, at the doorway, stood my mother. Face flushed, make up ruined, I detected a smile of happiness, relief and love. Relief overcame me as well - relief that my mother was home. After a long night of sadness and anger came love and happiness finally.

I went over to hug my mother as I cried even more loudly but this time, it was a cry of joy. My brother woke up to the sound of me crying. He was sleepy but when he saw mother, his face brightened instantly and he ran into her arms and hugged her tightly.

When we finally let go, I felt tired. Mother tucked us into bed. I slept with a smile on my face.

I hope mother and father will never have an argument like this again. I don't want mother to leave us like that ever again…


Ameerah Angelina, Oxford 1


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