This Apple Fell Far

On this particular night, I slept maybe three hours before I was awakened by something outside my bedroom window. It sounded like a loud thud, and once I realized I was awake, I heard the sound again. My whole body froze and I could hardly breathe as I lay there with my eyes closed in total terror. I could hear heavy, labored breathing, and it wasn't mine. The moon was half hidden from the clouds and it cast enough light by the windows to make the figure of a man's head visible, looking at me, leering, as I lay there trying to sleep. Every nerve in my body was at high alert. I felt the hair on my arms stand up, and my body was buzzing with fear and adrenaline. I kept my eyes closed except for a tiny crack in case I got brave enough to look at him again. I had no idea what to do but I knew that I wanted my mother, and I wanted her right that second. I tried to call her name, but only a faint croaking sound came out, which caught the attention of the man looking at me. It seemed like an eternity since I heard the thud and saw him in my window. My heart was beating so loud I believed he could hear it as well. My fear was getting the better of me and I felt like I was going to faint, but instead surprised myself, and started yelling as loud as I could. At first it came out gutteral and then I was able to scream my mom's name, and once she heard me, she was in my room in a flash. I pointed to my window and said "there was a man." Her eyes narrowed and her gaze fell, and she said "Are you sure it was a man?" I told her about the thud, and then the heavy labored breathing, and that I could see the shape of his head as he was looking at me. Her whole demeanor changed, and her eyes began to flash and turn angry. Her reaction was confusing to me. She told me to get back in bed and that everything would be OK but she wanted me to stay there until she came back. I heard her call my dad at work and tell him to get home as soon as he could, and then she unlocked the back door and grabbed the flashlight that was sitting on the counter. I don't remember how long she was outside but I do remember hearing voices raised and accusatory. I had to pee so bad but knew that if I moved, I would wet myself and I couldn't deal with the humility of that. I stayed there frozen, hardly breathing, terrified. Who was this man and why was he staring at me while I was sleeping? And why was my mom so angry? Why wasn't she scared, just like me? The voices outside got louder, and then I recognized my dad's voice. My mom was crying, and then the other voice became louder and I recognized it as my grandfather's voice. My mother's father. Why was he out there with them? And who and where was the man that was looking at me while I slept? I heard a scuffle, punches being thrown. I could hear a fist make contact, and then I felt so guilty and responsible for what was going on. If I hadn't called out for my mom this wouldn't be happening. I took that on as my fault, and it stayed with me. I put no blame on the person who was peeping in my window. It was the beginning of the internalization of guilt and shame that I became to know so well. My mom came back to my room after what seemed an eternity, and she had blood on her nightgown and a bruise on her wrist. She grabbed me tight and was crying, trying to console me, but I was so confused and scared I didn't know what to think. A few seconds later my dad appeared in the doorway, his hair disheveled and a cut on his lip. He started to ask me questions about what happened and I started to cry, which made him angry. He walked out and my mom helped me to the bathroom and got me back in my bed before she went to get me a drink of water. They started arguing in the kitchen. My dad's voice was abrupt and direct as he questioned my mother about what really happened. She didn't want to talk about it and was concentrating on getting the glass of water to me. He grabbed her arm as she was leaving the kitchen and she dropped the glass on the kitchen floor, water and glass shards shooting everywhere. She yelled, then started down the hallway to my room, but my dad grabbed her. He was yelling again, and she was fighting his grip. I had no idea what was going on, and my first instinct was to run to my mother and protect her. I was crying so hard I could hardly see her through my tears. I don't remember when my dad walked away, but I clearly remember that I didn't care if I ever saw him again.