Who am I?

The following is an introduction from my latest book, The Books of Jesús. It is from the first book “Death.” It is now available for $3.99 at the Kindle Book Store on Amazon.com

Chapter 1, Who am I?

Books-of-JesúsCVR_MINII can see the hand coming before it slams into me, it’s big. My terror roots me to the spot and I can feel wetness on my hot cheeks as a voice in my head screams at me to get out of the way. It’s no use, I can’t move—and then it hits me. There is so much pain, it’s as if my entire body is on fire. Although I can’t believe it’s possible, the pain is suddenly sharper as I slam into the side of the couch—all of the breathable air is knocked from my body with the impact. I gasp, trying to take in air and without warning, the room slides away from me into darkness.

I open my eyes to see my mother held up by the giant man. She dangles like a doll in his enormous hands. He holds her with one hand and punches her in the face again and again with the other. Then he stops. He looks at me. The intensity of the hatred in his eyes sends a shock of terror through me that is far more frightening than the previous assault or the pain that continues to envelop me.

He grabs her by both arms, picks her up and throws her across the room. I watch in silence. My mouth is open and I want to scream, but I can’t. He throws her so high that her head hits the ceiling driving her down and into the small window off the kitchen. She lands on the windowsill, her momentum carries her into it, bending her body in half, but it’s not big enough for her entire body to go through. She hovers there for a moment and then gravity takes hold and pulls her body downward.

She falls and hits the floor face first. The sudden jolt of the landing spreads her body out flat. The linoleum floor stretches the skin of her face holding her mouth open and allowing the blood to rush from between her damaged lips. I can see the length of her entire body stretched out in front of me and a long shard of glass protruding from her back as a pool of blood spreads out all around her.

I have no concept of death yet, but I do know hurt. In a panic I push myself to my feet and run towards her. I’m gasping as I try to suck some air into my lungs and push out the scream still stuck there in my chest. I can’t reach her, she needs me, but even though I am running, I still can’t get to her. I’m trying so hard, my arms and legs pumping wildly at my sides, but I simply can’t. Then suddenly I’m awake and sitting up in my bed. Now the stifled scream escapes “Fuck you motherfucker, you’re dead. Die, you bastard, die!”

 The scream releases my rage allowing it the freedom to surge through my mind. I could kill someone right now, but as my eyes search the room I find no one, no one to kill, just me. My grip tightens on the percale bed sheet in my hands and I rip it in half carrying the tear as far as my arms will reach, then I fall back on to the bed. I can feel the sweat of fear coving my entire body. It runs down my face and the sides of my chest.

I stuff my hand into my mouth to stifle a second wave of rage and frustration. The sheet is still wrapped around my fist and the cotton wicks all the moisture from my mouth. I bit down hard, feeling my teeth penetrate the cloth and cut into my knuckle, now I taste only blood.

David Hutchison