“He’s going to kill me some day with all this work!” He thought, but couldn’t speak. He was angry, more with himself than anyone else.

“Why do I keep listening to him?” He wondered, as he struck the ground again with his spade. “I don’t have to!” He dug the ground deeper with every stroke.

“What kind of a father makes his son dig the ground in this freezing cold…”

“It’s not just that he makes me do these crazy things… It’s the constant nagging. He thinks I’m a loser . Makes me feel like I shouldn’t have been born!” a tear escaped his eye, or was it sweat, he couldn’t tell. He was overwhelmed, too tired and cold to notice the difference.

“Last month, it was the damned card game. I made one mistake and had to sleep outside all night. And today it was his stupid shirt I got the ink stain on.” What happened the month before the last one was too horrifying for him to even think about.

“Only if I had the courage. I could run! I just can’t get caught like the last time” the image of those iron rods made him shudder.

“Or… I could just… No, what am I thinking.. I can’t”. It wasn’t the first time this thought had crossed his mind.

“All it will take is one moment, one swing of this very spade.. any if those nights when he is drunk and asleep.” The chain of thoughts broke as the spade struck something other than mud. He cleared the half frozen mud with his hands, the bones were still there. Like a jolt it all came rushing back to him.

He had already done what he’s been too afraid to even think of right now. The abuse may have now become a thing of past, but he was shell shocked for life. He relived it all every day – as if he were in a loop – the trauma, the horror, and this moment, his salvation.