He stood there in the middle of the room holding a baseball bet on one hand and a knife on the other. He had locked the doors and had the keys to the whole house in his back pocket- the house was designed with three exits, one on the front, one at the kitchen and one that took you to the backyard. “Sit on the couch and listen to me clearly and carefully” the bossy man instructed them.
The looks of fear on their faces were outlined and made clear by the designer lights in the living room. “no one is going to tell me what to do, I will make the decisions from now on!” –the smell that came from the men was disgusting and unbearable.
“I am the one who is going to tell you what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. You will answer the phone when I tell you to…” he continued with his instructions, while the fear on their faces was sketched out so clear you could trace it.
They seemed to be used to this form of treatment, but the girl was bitter and ensured revenge, judging by the look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that, this is my house, I make the decisions around here, and if you don’t listen I will kill you”.
He shoved the girl in her room and viciously beat up the wife. The was nothing she could do but she could do but sit in the other room, locked up and listen to her mother being beaten up over nothing. When she got to the Police Station the answer was: There is nothing that we can do, let them solve their own problems.
The law of limitations has indeed expired on most of our childhood trauma.
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