Thirteen year old Cynthia Hoyle watched in despair as her raging step dad was brutally abusing her mother.
What could she do? She wasn't strong, she couldn't hurt him. She just watched in horror waiting for the shrilly cries of her birth mother to stop.
Punch after punch he threw, and scream after deadly scream her mother cried.
"She didn't mean to stain the carpet!" Cynthia cried out.
Her step dad, John, stopped and turned towards her with a piercing fire in his eyes.
"YOU!...YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!" He said slapping her hard across the face.
The pain shot through her.
A blazing anger built within her as a blueish purple bruise formed on her face.
"NO ONE TOUCHES MY MOM!" she screamed running towards him. She hiked her elbow up and thrust it hardly and deeply on top of his Adam's apple and using her other fist to punch him in the stomach.
Her mother cried for her to stop and begging John not to hurt her.
John started coughing up blood and then screamed and turned towards Cynthia.
He punched her in the jaw and knocked out her back tooth. blood spewed out of Cynthia's mouth.
She looked up and saw her brother at the door, watching with a murderous look on his face.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked down embarrassed.
John turned around and saw Matt.
"What are you looking at Boy? Didn't your stupid momma over here teach you any manors? It's impolite to stare." John shot through his crooked, black teeth. this had been happening for years and Matt was through with it.
A fuse of rage shot within him as he set down his school bag and ran towards John.
"NO ONE HITS MY SISTER!" He screamed as he started throwing numerous punches and kicks.
John punched him in the stomach...hard... and got on top of him and started bashing his face in.
Matt grabbed the nearest thing and started gashing it into John's back. When the hot blood oozed from John onto Matt... Everyone knew he was dead...
Cynthia ran up to Matt and hugged him tightly.
They both cried tears of hatred and fear in each others arms.
They looked over to their mother. She wasn't moving...or breathing...
She was dead.
Over a coffee stain in the carpet.
Cynthia walked towards the stain.
she would never drink a cup of coffee in her life ever again. Full of anger she punched the wall as the ambulance pulled up a little too late.
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