“What do you mean, ’Where’s Dad’?” She laughed at him mockingly, the thick red lipstick on her lips, rouged cheeks and carelessly drawn on eyebrows making her somewhat resemble a demonic clown. “He’s gone, OK? Forever. Who needs the one-armed useless bastard anyway?” She got up out of the chair, awkwardly pulling the short skirt to the tops of her thighs and swayed drunkenly over to the young boy where he was sat cowering in the corner of the room.

She waved her index finger in his face, “It’s all your fault. Always asking for this or that. You’re just a parasite.” She hissed out the last few words venomously.

The boy covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He knew she was right. It was all his fault. Why did he have to be so hungry all the time? He shouldn’t have asked for that apple. He knew he was a stupid, greedy boy. He’d eaten last week, that should have been enough for him. He couldn’t help it though, the gnawing pain in his stomach had pushed him to ask for the last of the ripe, delicious looking, fruit.

He looked up at his mother, desperately blinking back tears. She glared down at him in hatred. He understood hatred. He thought back to that day in school.

“C’mon, let’s go and play out for a bit.” His friend, Roy, dragged him over to the window. “Wow, look at that, it’s so sunny. My mommy and daddy say that we should go out when it’s nice like this.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want us to get in trouble. Maybe we should ask Miss first?”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

They both marched determinedly to the teacher. They pulled impatiently at her sweater.

“Miss? Miss? Can we go out?”

She had looked at them with pursed lips before glancing at the sun-drenched grass outside the window. “Well. I can’t very well just let you two go out and play on your own now, can I?” She suddenly broke into a warm smile. “I guess it would be a shame to miss out on weather like this though, wouldn’t it?”

She looked around at the children before clapping her hands together loudly. “OK, everyone! Can I have your attention, please? These two young men have asked if we can have our lessons outside today. What do you all think?”

There were loud cheers from their classmates and squeals of excitement at the thought of being able to get out of the warm and sticky confines of the stifling classroom.

“I guess it’s decided then. Come on everybody!” She led them all outside and soon lost all control of her young, excited charges. She didn’t mind, days like this were rare and it was nice for the children to blow off steam now and again.

He had spent the entire day running around and playing with his friends.

It had been glorious.

It only came to an end when the bell rang and he saw that his mother has arrived to collect him. His stomach had dropped when he realised that she had already drunk some of her ‘special juice’. The stuff that made her walk and talk funny. He had looked around at his friend’s parents and saw that none of them were like that. He watched in shame as she put her hand on his friend’s dads arm as she laughed far too hard at something he had said.

For a brief, flaming moment, he hated and envied his friends and their simple lives. He knew that they didn’t turn up to school with bruises from ‘falling down stairs’. He suspected that they didn’t have to rummage in the garbage just to find something to eat.

His mom's voice brought him back to the present.

“I should never have had you. I should have gone to the clinic. Thrown myself down the stairs.” She suddenly raised her hand and, with a swift downward motion, slapped him hard across the face.

He flinched but bore the pain. It was nothing new after all. The only person who had ever managed to protect him even a little from her rages before was his Dad. Now, he was gone, and it was all his fault.

His cheek flared red with the shape of her handprint. The welts made by her fingers were raised and angry looking. She smiled malevolently.

“No-one to help you now, you little shit. If you ever tell anyone a word about any of this, you’ll regret being born.”

“I won’t, Momma. I promise. I’m sorry, Momma.” He began to cry softly. He knew that it would do no good. He tried to stop. It always made things worse.

“Stop crying.” She said through gritted teeth. “I SAID, STOP CRYING! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!”

With each shout, she struck his shivering, defenceless body. She soon got bored with using her hand and became more inventive. She progressed on to her slipper. The crack it made on his skin seemed to spur her on to greater heights. Even at his young age, he knew that he might not survive the beating this time. When she picked up the heavy, cut glass ashtray, he was sure of it.

“No, Momma! STOP.” He felt a strange push in his head as he cried out in desperation. Miraculously, she paused mid swing.

Her eyes rolled madly in her head as she strained to hit him again. “Why can’t I move? It’s you, isn’t it? What have you done to me, you little freak?”

He didn’t know what had just happened and didn’t want to question it, he was just grateful for the reprieve. He hoped it would continue just a little longer.

Testing the limits of the strange new ability, he looked at her and said, “Please be quiet and put it down, Momma.”

Silenced, she slowly and reluctantly put the ashtray back on the table.

“Now, go and sit down.”

Stiffly, she returned to her favourite chair and sat down. Whatever was happening, his momma wasn’t hurting him anymore and as far as he was concerned, nothing could be better.

He stood up and attempted to wipe the blood and tears from his face. He only succeeded in smearing it around. His little face was very serious as he regarded her through its gory mask.

“I don’t think you should ever hurt me again, Momma. Do you?”

She shook her head. Her eyes reflected her fury and terror at somehow being controlled like a puppet by her little boy.

“You can talk, Momma.”

“When this stops, I’m going to hurt you so bad. You’re going to regret this, you little bastard!” She spat the words out furiously.

He knew she meant every word. There was no way she would ever let this go. She had hurt him badly before with no provocation. His young mind shuddered back from thinking about what she would do to him for this. He didn’t know how this miracle had happened or why, but he knew that she would punish him more than ever before. Maybe even kill him. The police and social workers had never helped in the past and he knew they wouldn’t be able to now. It would be up to him.

He bowed his little head as he considered things that should never occur to a child. For better or worse, he had made his decision.

“Momma, stand up and go to the balcony.”

She fought his commands. He could see her body shaking with the effort. She still rose up from the chair, made her way to the doors, opened them and stepped out into the night air.

He followed her out. They stood on the balcony together. He looked down at the ground, a dizzying distance below them.

“Stand on the rail, Momma.”

She clambered up awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, Momma. I can’t see any other way out though.” He ran over to her and hugged her legs. He closed his eyes and whispered softly, “I love you, Momma.”

He released her and stepped back. “Now, jump.”

He heard her scream as she leapt off the balcony rail, followed by the sick thump as she hit the concrete several seconds later.

Pale and shaking, he returned inside. He picked up the house phone and dialled the number his Dad had made him memorise.

“Emergency services, how may I direct your call?” It was a man’s voice, reassuring and professional.

He answered the man in a trembling little voice, “Hello?” He began to sob, “It’s my Momma, there’s been an accident…”