my mom loved us, she truly did. I beleive that. but she made mistakes. everyone does. but some mistakes are worse than others. I know I'm lucky. and it's not like she beat us everyday, or called us names. It was something different. she could be the most loving, caring mother you can imagine, the most fair, the most undertsanding you will ever meet. people loved her, I know I did. but when you take these things, and rely on them, when you trust someone and you'd never think that they could ever hurt you and then... they do. I've talked about this before, but not reall at the right time, or place. but No one KNEW. how? how can you not tell when I child goes to school, and they sit alone, they become distracted, they cant talk. they are shy, they hate, but also cant wait, to go home. they sleep in the same bed with the person they look to for support, the person to be their rock. they expect to protect them. and she did, she protected me from many things. she atleast tried, which is all you can do. I have the same hands as my mom. the same face. I've had many people tell me this. I take it as a compliment, she was a beautiful woman. but her hands... her hands used to cook me lovely meals, sweets and good things to eat. thats one thing she always made sure we had, food. they used to put band-aids on my scraped knees and brush my hair. all these wonderful things that I was so greatful for. I cant remember what I did. I was a good kid after all, it couldnt have been terrible. but that was the first real bad time I remember clearly. we were in the kitchen in the small apartment we had. I was crying. she told me to shut up, but I just couldnt stop, I was crying too hard I guess, and she always had headaches. I was giving her a headache. she spun me around and tried to spank me, but I fell when she did. I cried worse and she kept trying to spank me. I remember twisting and clenching every muscle in my body so that she couldnt roll me around to hit me. my brother was in the door way, watching silently. I remember yelling out to him... please, please, please make her stop, please... but he didnt do anything. what could he do? nothing. which was all I could do. she gave up tryng to turn me on my belly, and screamed at me to stop crying, I was going to make the nieghbors call the cops. this scared me, and so I cried louder. that was a bad idea. she covered my face with her hands, the same hands that she had used tocook me lovely meals, sweets and good things to eat. the one thing she always made sure we had. the same hands that put band-aids on my scraped knees and brush my hair. all these things I was so greatful for. The hands that mine look so much like. these same hands were covering my face, her knees pinned down my arms, her weight heavy on my chest, crushing the air I hadn't cried out form my lungs. she pressed too hard, so hard.... please, please mom, please mom stop, I can't breath, mom! She told me to shut. up. stop crying! I told you to stop crying! harder she pressed, now over my nose, I couldn't breath at all, I could only cry silently, sucking at her hands to draw in air, but I couldn't take anything in. only tears escaped, and hers mingled with mine. finally, and I couldn't really see at this point, my eyes were squeezed shut and the tears were blurring my vision. the pressure on my face was gone and she was off my chest, all at once. she was lying beside me, shaky cries of I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I'm sorry... I couldn't even say "it's ok mom." this time. I was too busy pulling in painful sweet oxygen, my chest slowly uncurling, it felt so tight, like it was a piece of paper all crumpled up, and I was viciously tearing it apart in my haste to straighten it out. that's all I remember. I sit here staring at my hands, the same hands the were trapped beneath her while hers prevented me from breathing. My hands that finally typed this story out, that found the courage to, if anonymously. they look so much like hers. and no one knew.