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When I was 7 my moms boyfriend was beating her to a pulp. I was sure he was going to kill her this time.
I wholeheartedly believed I could overpower him and save her so I grabbed a toy hockey stick and ran over. All it took was one measly swing from a scrany, malnourished kid and all his attention on me. That's all I got in before I realized how wrong I was, followed by watching my mom run out the back door. I knew in my heart she wasn't leaving to get help and I was right.
I've gone through a lot before and after that but I've never been more horrified than that very moment. I remember the horror leave me shortly after when I was certain I wouldn't see tomorrow.