My name is Jerry. I never thought I would be telling my own story. Like every normal child, I had dreams and fantasies; big ones, really big ones. I thought I would be big and mighty and admired and that one day I would die, then people would write about me, about how great I was, how powerful, how handsome, how...okay, maybe I should stop ranting. I am a native American. I am that child who never had a normal upbringing. I grew up in an abusive home. While growing up, I had read in books that a man was the head of the home. This seemed not to be the case in  my family because my dad was scared of my mom. She wielded such force that my dad literally shivered on sighting her. I had learnt about a perfect family in school, but I returned home everyday to see just the opposite of what I was taught at school. Several times, my mom would hit my dad with hurtful objects and dad just wailed like a baby. I was angered by the goings on in our home. I swore that I would become the man my father wasn't.

I had grown up in an abusive home, and I didn't want to breed the same kind of family I grew up in. Times past, then I met my heart throb. She was everything to me, the classic romantic. I had grown in love with this girl, and I thought that was the best gift life could give me; a girl to love. I would go any distance to meet with her. We went on long walks and picnics. Life could not have been any better. After months of heightened emotions, I proposed to Lina. It is not the proposal I remember, it was her response that stuck like a glue to my brain. she said, "I am tender, and soft, easily hurt and prone. I am naive and not sure about the future. I am not thinking right mow, but I don't need to think, my heart knows that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Yes, I will marry you because I trust that you will protect my weakness and strengthen my courage. I will, I WILL, YES, YES!!!

We had just had our third child and we were celebrating our ninth year anniversary. We held a big party and we had friends come from all over the place. Old school mates of ours laughed hysterically over old boring jokes. My wife had had a very busy day cooking and preparing to receive our many visitors. After the long day, she was really tired and exhausted. Did I mention that for the nine years of my marriage, I had lived in fear that the demon that was in my mother would suddenly come up in my wife. As time went by in our marriage, I took steps to ensuring that I was never bullied by my wife, even mentally. I always ensured I won the arguments because I never wanted her to think that she was in anyway smarter than I was. I lived in constant fear that she would get a higher paying job than I had. I ensured I outdid her in the gym because I never wanted her to believe she had more stamina than I had. I just never wanted to be bullied in anyway. Back to the story...After a very long anniversary dinner and dance, all our visitors left us. Our anniversary nights were those nights when we had out of the ordinary sex. The kind busy couples never have time to get involved in. I had looked forward to this night for a while, only to be disappointed by these words, "darling, I have had a very hectic day and I am not sure I can do this tonight. We could do something else, I mean, something less stressful, maybe kiss for instance".
WHAT!!! KISS??? I had waited this long for something beyond the 5 minute-missionary style-lights out kind of sex, and all you have to say is kiss? Okay, why not kiss my palms. With those angry words, I raised my hand and slapped my wife. An eternity passed after that. I wasn't sure what had happened. I don't remember who cried louder, my wife or I? Sooner, my wife became my boxing bag. I went in and out of anger control therapy. After several attempts, I gave up. I was tired of the remorse that I felt after beating my wife. Was this a defense mechanism? Was I trying to be the first to bully my wife? Had I been unconsciously licensed to kill by my mother? I had hurt my wife several times too many and this time the police would make a case out of it. My second year in prison for attempted murder, I was taught to take the blame for my mistakes, but I have this deep feeling that I had unconsciously absorbed this bad attitude from my abusive home. I have no guns, no weapons of mass destruction, but I have been trained in the terrorist camp of my family and have been equipped with the weapon of anger and abuse. I am scared that my children will absorb this same attitude from me, and it will be a cycle in my family. A cycle of abuse, licensing more and more people to kill.


Kaycee Montana.