None Can Hear Thee Scream

Jerubel Keziah, Nigeria

Images of taking a step forward and letting gravity take control of my body form. It's the perfect way to escape: my body rolls down the staircase and when I reach the end, my neck snaps. I stare at the end of the steps, mouth watery with the desire to just. . . end it. And if I don't escape that way, the hospital should be a good place to rest until I know how to deal with the darkness that haunts me every night.

"Hey, honey. You're up early." Mom's cheery voice resonates in my ears, causing the visions to disappear. The only thing I see now is the beautiful strawberry blonde at the end of the steps, not my body that drowns in the pool of red at the end of the steps. At that moment, a little warmth fills my heart. Her brightened face is the only light that fights the darkness. The only thing that keeps me going.

The brightness gradually fades when her signature concerned look appears. "Are you alright?"

I stare back at her wide-eyed, taking in the shadows that replace the light. No, I scream. But she can't hear me. The word is only audible in the ears of my mind.

She ascends the staircase, taking gradual steps. "Bradley?" Her eyes roam when she stops just in front of me, searching mine for whatever—I have no idea. "Baby, what's wrong?" she says, one hand on my shoulder and the other stroking my sandy blond hair.

I don't want to. Yet a power I can't define forces my lips to curve into a smile of hope. My chest aches from the burden of my haunting nightmares. "I'm fine, Mom," I say. "Just trying to get over a nightmare."

Her face comes to life again when her warm smile appears. "Oh, honey." She puts her arm around me in a hug. "It's going to be okay. I'm so sorry." She releases me but still holds my hands. "Come let's get you something to eat. How about I make your favorite dish? Chocolate chip pancakes with hot chocolate? What do you say?"

He hurts me, Mom, I want to say. Yet once again, the force pushes me to nod. "Sounds great, Mom."

She smiles and then pulls me down the stairs and into the dining room. She sits me on the seat that faces the kitchen, backing the staircase. "Now, you just sit here. Momma's going to be right back, hmm?" She kisses my hair and struts into the kitchen.

Seeing her mix the batter, put it on the stove while singing with her cheery voice strikes a chord of familiarity deep within me, in that place in my memory where I've recorded her perform these actions numerous times to count. But it hardly registers as my mind wanders to the events of the previous night, the night before it, and the night before that, up to the night they first began.

Goosebumps surface my skin as the vivid images, cringing touch, and awful sounds replay in my mind. The dreadful taste of testicles and the aches in my butthole breed the darkness that surrounds me.

Just say it, my mind screams at me as I make contact with Mom's dark brown orbs. Say it, Bradley. Say it.

"Mom. . ." I whisper.

She doesn't hear me. Her sirenic voice has overshadowed any other sound around. All except one.

The sound of footsteps is as loud as my heartbeat. It beats in the same rhythm as my heart. The darkness I feel every night, the cold feeling that doesn't reflect Mom's warmth envelopes me.

The familiar touch comes. A chill runs from the palm on my shoulder into my body. And it doesn't stop there: the voice of the owner of the hand gives birth to an eerie sensation that flows through me.

"Good morning, son!" Mom's boyfriend, Troy, sings, sounding more pleased than he's been on any other morning.

"Good morning, darling," Mom says. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Her eyes shine as bright as the stars when I look up at her.

He walks around the round dining table and goes to sit opposite me. "Indeed it is." I cringe at the evident joy in his voice.

"How was your night?" Mom says as she places all our plates in front of us and on her side of the table.

His eyes never leave mine as he says, "Pleasurable." What is supposed to be joy in his eyes is pure darkness in my sight. His lips are tugged at the corner before he licks it while he eyes me as if he had just seen a delicious dish.

"Hmm. . ." Mom opens the fridge behind him, bringing out a jug of orange juice. "Is that so?" She drops it in the middle of the table then walks to the kitchen.

He tilts his head and returns it to its straight position. "You know it, babe." Troy's gray eyes never leave my blue ones as the glint of shadows don't leave his entire pale face.

Mom drops a cup of hot chocolate beside my plate of pancakes. She sits on the side of Troy and me. "So. . ." she sings. She puts down two glass cups beside her plate and Troy's. "I have some good news." She glances between me and him. "I'm no longer going to be working the night shifts anymore." Her excitement is still prominent on her face.

"Really?" I glance at Troy. He's wide-eyed staring at Mom like he's just heard the worst news ever.

Mom nods and smiles, showing off her white pearly teeth.

Troy's shocked face is quickly replaced with a smiling one. "Wow! That's. . . that's nice, babe."

"Yeah, it is." She grabs both our hands. "I get to be spending my nights now with my two favorite boys." She squeals.

Troy gives Mom a lovey-dovey face. "Oh, babe, that'd be lovely." He leans towards Mom. "I get to hold you every night. . ." He leans forward. "Kiss you. . ." Right now, his lips are against her ears, whispering something I know to be nothing but lies.

"Stop it, Troy." Mom giggles as she slaps his arm.  "Not in front of Bradley." Her cheeks are redder than tomatoes.

He chuckles and continues to whisper.

My grip around the handle of my cup gets firmer by the second. He steals glances at me as he whispers words to her. Words that I'm sure are the same when he asks me to do things to him. The fingers of my free hand dig deeper into my palm the more Mom's cheeks turn redder.

And then, her heartwarming laughter vibrates through the dining room. That is the moment he seizes the chance to wink at me.

The next few moments are a blur. I don't remember how but I'm standing, staring at their faces that once envisioned happiness. Troy's eyes shoot daggers at me each time he raises his head from looking down at the hot chocolate all over his chest. Mom stares startled at me, and the words that fly out of her lips are, "Bradley! What was that for?"

His eyes never stop shooting the daggers as his voice coldly goes, "It's okay, Alice. The boy only needs to be taught how to respect elders." He stands, an icy stare never leaving mine. He walks around and grabs me the collar. "Come here, boy."

"Troy, you don't need to do that."

He stops and turns, turning me also. Mom's signature concerned look sits on her face.

"Don't worry, Alice," he says. "Every child has to be disciplined every once in a while."

Mom looks at him then at me.

Mom, please! Please, Mom!

Mom continues to look from one of us to the other. She looks unsure. Nonetheless, she still says, "Just. . . don't be too rough on him. You know how tender he is."

"Don't worry." He pauses and I look up to see the menace in his eyes. "I'll be gentle." No words can describe how bitter his words sound.

He turns around, and we travel up the stairs. Then he stomps down the corridor to my room. He opens the door, throws me in, and by the time I turn around he shuts the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yells as he walks to me, his Southern accent thicker than usual. "Huh? Acting out like that?"

I open my mouth, ready to spit out words of anger at him. But I don't. The growing darkness on his face doesn't let me. Several words Mom tells me I should never say run through my head. I want to scream the words at him. But I can't. Because it leads nowhere.

"You trying to say something? Huh?" His voice mocks me. He knows that I know that whatever I do it won't get anywhere. That is why he has continued to do to me what he's been doing since he started living with Mom and me.

"I hate you. . ." A part of me dances inside. For the first time since he beat me for resisting him in the beginning, I speak despicable words to him. I wish I could do more than say those words. I wish I could reach my hand into his throat and choke him 'til he breathes no more. I wish this little courage will become so large that I can tell Mom what he does to me without being afraid of him.

He bends in front of me, grunting. "Yeah, well," he replies my declaration, "there's nothing you can do about it, eh? Remember what I told you: your momma knows about it and you'll never see her again."

He stands. "Now, for your misbehavior. . ." He doesn't need to continue. I know what next he's about to say. "I'm going to let it slide. But, you know what you have to do: I do something for you, you do something for me and I won't have to hurt you." He unbuckles his belt and strips.

My eyes shut immediately. Though my innocence is tainted and resistance nonsensical, I still try to practice the decency Mom has taught me.

Troy pushes me down to my knees, saying, "Go on, boy." I feel his organ dance on my face. "Go 'head, boy. Before your mom gets more worried than she already is and comes in."

I don't move. My head remains in its position with my mouth shut tight like my eyes.

Troy then grabs a fistful of my hair and pushes my head forward. "Come on, boy! Don't waste time already."

Right as he pushes my head forward again, an irate voice booms: "What the hell is going on?"

As I open my eyes, my vision is blurred by the shadows that covered Mom's face. Her face is much redder than minutes ago when she blushed.

Suddenly, a resounding slap fills the air. "You son of a bitch!"

Troy's head swiftly goes to the side. And as if the slap wasn't enough, my baseball bat makes contact with the back of his head.

I wince at the bang, feeling as if it's me Mom hits. And though Troy is on the floor, she doesn't stop there. She continues to use the bat on him, hitting him everywhere she can, targeting his head mostly.

Blood splatters on her. Some get into my mouth that had been open as I watch her, startled. It should satisfy me, seeing the man that harassed me get beat by Mom. Instead, it's scary. Never have I ever seen rage emanate from Mom, not even when she had quarreled Dad before he left for another woman.

Mom pants, her breath heavy and chest rising and falling visibly. Her eyes then stare wide-eyed at Troy's bloodied body. The bat drops to the floor while she raises her head. Her shocked eyes are replaced with regret

"Oh, baby." She rushes to me with outstretched hands. She puts her arms around me, squeezing me in an extremely tight hug. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry." Mom's hug is at a point I almost can't breathe. "He's going to pay, okay? He'll pay."

"Mom. . ." I breathe.

Immediately, she releases me, standing up quickly. When I look up at her, her eyes are teary as they stare at Troy. She bends down and puts two fingers on his nape. Her fingers stay there and she looks into mid-air. Suddenly, she jumps up. "Shit!" She puts both hands on her head. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" She turns in circles, looking lost and worried.

"Mom?"

Her brown eyes meet my blue ones, dancing around in a way that shows how scared she's become. She comes to kneel in front of me. "Okay, um. . . Bradley, sweetie. . ." She strokes my hair. "It's. . . It's going to be alright." She looks at me with an assuring look, the same one she gave me when Dad finally left. "I won't let it happen again, okay? I'm going to protect you. Always. It won't happen again."

My head bows as I say with a voice so low I almost don't hear myself. "Promise?"

Her head goes up and down repeatedly. "Bradley. . . I promise, okay? I didn't know. It won't happen again." She puts her arm around me and whimpers.

"It's okay, Mom. Don't cry."

She sniffs as she lets go of the hug. Her smile appears but it doesn't give the warmth it usually does. It instead gives off the coldness that comes when she regrets something.

Her face then becomes stern like when she was about to tell me we had to move. "Okay, you know what you're going to do now?"

"You're going to get into the bathroom, okay? Take a bath, and when you get out you go wait for me in the car, alright?"

I nod.

"When I come down, we're going to go and you'd never see him again."

"We're moving again." The words are supposed to come out as a question. It however doesn't make sense to question her 'cause they were the same words she used before we moved here about a year ago.

The face of guilt appears, and her lips turn upside down. "Yes, baby. We—we. . ." She sighs while running her fingers through my hair. "We have to, okay?" She holds my jaw. "But it's going to be alright. It's going to be fine. I'll protect you. I promise."

My eyes steal a glance at the bloodied Troy. When they meet hers, they give off assurance. I put my hands around her neck. "I love you, Mom." The words are those of thanksgiving and belief. She had just proved she will do what she said she would, so there was no point to doubt her promises to protect me.

Her hands wrap me. "I love you more, baby. I love you so much." I don't doubt those words for she had killed the darkness that had been haunting me, the darkness that prevented my screams from being heard.

Jerubel is a Nigerian writer and a medical student. She enjoys writing novels and short stories and also dabbles in poetry and quote creation. Most of her works have been published on Wattpad. Outside of writing, she enjoys reading fiction, watching movies, singing, and dancing.