Never Again

"Tell her what to do with that thing, Gloria!" Ken yelled.

My right hand began to tremble as my mind raced back and forth between the gun and the way he was looking at me. For once, pure terror was beaming from his face rather than mine or my mother's.

Get control of yourself, Kristi. Now is not a good time to be losing it.

"Blow his mother fucking nuts off," my mother screamed.

Only a few feet separated the two of them from me. I was quite worried that my mother was standing too close to him for me to pull the trigger. If she would only move just a little forward, I could drop him right where he stands.


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We had just returned home an hour earlier from our annual snow-skiing trip in Winter Park, CO. I was busy with my school work that was a week behind and due the following day when the familiar screams from my mother began penetrating throughout the large house.

He was beating her again. This time, I was determined to end it - this time would be the last time. I had made a promise to myself the time before while I very gently held an ice pack on my mother's jaw. Never again would I have to wear colored hose to hide the bruises from his pointed cowboy boots. Never again would I be hit on the top of my head with a hammer because it wasn't the exact one he had ordered me to retrieve for him. Never again would these atrocious sounds coming from my mother pierce my eardrums. Never again.

A strange calmness encircled my body as I headed in the direction from which came the shrill, agonizing screams. I knew what had to be done. As I approached the war zone, I braced myself for the worst - prepared myself for the bloody sight that awaited my entrance.

The door to their bedroom stood wide open, enabling all the walls in the house to take part in the horrendous one-sided battle. I walked in and headed straight to the nightstand next to their bed. My presence was still unknown as the bedroom was over-sized and had a separate dressing area which was where the beating was taking place.

Seconds later, I had the safety switch off and the hammer of the .38 cocked. I was only twelve years old at the time, but I knew how to use a gun - Ken had taught me just two years earlier.