Dark Past

On the tenth floor of a fine hotel in the colony of Hong Kong I sit on the edge of the bed with two of my younger brothers and listen as the battle rages in the next room. Inexplicably I’m drawn to the door that joins the two rooms, It’s neither courage nor curiosity that fuels my determination for I know what I’ll find when I cross the threshold. Rivers of red rage sweep through the room, crashing against the ceiling, flowing down the walls rushing back to engulf the man in the center of the room; my father. I see that his anger is fueled by this red river though he seems oblivious to the fact that he is the center of terrible demonic forces. His rage encompasses the entire room as it feeds and is fed by his emotional state.
The rage sweeps through the room and out to the balcony to crash incessantly against the woman who has retreated to this last corner. In her arms she holds a small child, my youngest brother. The rivers of red rage swell around her as she tries to protect herself and her child from the influence of this poison. It is evident that she is losing the battle because as I enter the room I hear her cry, “If you don’t stop I’ll drop him over the edge!” She holds my baby brother out over the edge of the balcony and looks to the street some 100 feet below.
“Go ahead and drop him. Then you can go to prison as a murderer,” My father responds.
I wade through the bloody anger to stop in front of my mother. As I hold out my hands I look into her eyes. I see nothing but a desperate love. Here is a woman who has been pushed into a terrible and lonely corner. There is no one to hold her tight and whisper, “Everything will be alright.” No one to hold her hand and say, “I love you and will be with you even in the bad times.” I look into her eyes and see through the terror and the pain, the woman that has loved and cared for me from the time I drew my first breath. What can I give her to make it better? Nothing. I have no power to add to or detract from the poison washing throughout the room. All I can do is remove my brother from scene of this emotional sinkhole.
“Give him to me.” Am I afraid that my mother will actually do something to my brother? The way she has treated my siblings and me in the past assures me that she would give her own life before she allowed any harm to come to one of her children. No, that is not even an issue. I’m not here to rescue my brother from my mother but to assist my mother in removing him from a volatile environment.
I take the child from her, turn and wade back through the raging poison. As I close the door behind me, I hear and feel the anger rising once again.
I still walk this dark past.