Daddy, your shoes didn't fit my feet

I heard the fearful agonizing screams coming from my mother. My heart filled with fear when I saw my stepfather, Woody, holding Mom’s long hair and beating her unmercifully. My twelve year old mind became filled with rage when I saw her fall into a huge briar patch. Mom screamed, “Oh merciful Jesus, help me,” as Woody continued kicking her. It seemed like God and family had long ago deserted us. I hurried into the house, quickly loaded the rifle and ran to where Mom was laying, covered with blood and begging Woody to help her out of the briars that had entangled her. Raising the rifle, I aimed between Woody’s eyes as my mothers words, “No son, please no,” seemed distant as I pulled the trigger.