Living Hell - Chapter 4: The Haunting Call
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Chapter 4: The Haunting Call
If you think my life improved, you couldn’t be more wrong. One day, I was in the hall while my mom was on the phone. We still had those wired phones with a rotary dial—you had to put your finger on the numbers and spin it around. At first, the conversation seemed normal, but even though I couldn’t hear my dad, I could tell what he was saying by how my mom responded.
At first, she was denying. Then she said it was only one. I knew he pressured her to say a name, and she said it out loud. I was just a child, but I felt shivers all over my skin — a warning that bad times were coming.
I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went upstairs to my room to get ready for what was coming. I knew I would have to face something unwelcome and unexpected.
I have only short memories about where I went with my mom. Even though I saw some things, I didn’t see any betrayal or cheating. Not even close.
But before I tell you everything I remember, you need to understand my memory isn’t complete. I had a head injury and developed epilepsy. I had to take medication and get yearly exams, including ECGs. I also had trouble focusing. Sometimes, I’d be talking to someone and suddenly not be there anymore — just empty inside, no thoughts or images, like I didn’t exist. My mom always said I had my “head on the moon.” If you see this in someone, please take it seriously and get professional help. I overcame it by fifth grade, but I’ll explain more later.
I remember once walking down the road with my mom, then getting into a white car. I don’t recall sitting down or seeing the people inside. Another time, I was playing by the river with my cousin. I saw my mom talking to a man, but nothing intimate. My cousin’s mom was there too, walking with another man. Since I was focused on playing, the rest faded. It felt a little strange, but I didn’t think much of it — I was just a child.
The last memory I have is sitting at a restaurant table with my mom and a man. Again, there was no intimacy, just eating. I didn’t see anything wrong with that.
My memories are sporadic and mostly tied to feelings — either comfortable or uncomfortable — and impressions from things I experienced.
When my dad came back from work, our home became a battlefield. The war had started, and I was stuck in the middle just trying to survive. It wasn’t easy. They argued constantly. My mom apologized but also told my dad things he didn’t deserve to hear. She even said she’d told him before that she wanted him to stay. He was working hard in another country to make our life better. The salary there was much higher than here, so many people rebuilt their homes and improved their lives. If you manage money well, you can have a good home and appliances — at least back then.
The constant arguing was painful to hear. My mom would sit in the bathroom, crying and yelling at the top of her lungs, hands on her head like she couldn’t take it anymore.
One day, it escalated. I was in my room when my mom came in, followed by my dad. He started beating her with his hands and even with a belt. I jumped on top of her. He said to me, “Ah, you’re protecting her? You’re protecting your mom? You’ll be beaten next time.” He never beat me for that though. I was relieved when he stopped. I hoped and prayed my parents would get divorced, but they never did.
If you’re not happy, and something’s wrong, just leave. Make arrangements, find a solution. Beating and making kids watch is traumatizing. Nothing justifies violence. We defend ourselves, when necessary, but we don’t attack others — especially those weaker than us. Abuse and violence are never okay.
We stopped going to festivities for a while. Someone had called my dad to tell him what happened, so he was hurt and ashamed. He began going to cafes alone to drink and play cards. Every time he came back, he was angry and upset with my mom. I imagine how humiliation and toxic ideas about manhood poisoned his mind.
I really hope you understand it’s not okay to tease a man who’s already suffering. I saw how damaged he became mentally. He overthought everything and needed time alone, even though he liked being near my mom. It was like a strange attachment. I’ll tell you more later.
That phone call didn’t just change my parents’ relationship. It changed the entire atmosphere of our home. And I was too small to fix it, but too aware to ignore it.
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