Prologue

Prologue

"Son, how could you? I taught you better then that! Boy, if you were still under my roof, I'd kill you right now! It's not even the natural thing, not even the Christian thing to do, and you call yourself a Christian." His assault began with an expletive. "Why do you even come here? Your not welcome here. Yeah, your mother always gives me this big speech about how I have to be a loving parent to a queer. And I'm . . ." He added another ignorant word. ". . .ing not doing it anymore. Get the," and another, "out of my house, and I hope your rot in Hell."

"I can't take it anymore. You have to be a loving parent, who ever told you that? You think I'm not a Christian, do you even hear the words coming out of your own mouth? You are so caught up in your own problems, you can't even try to see past them. You think this whole house revolves around you, well it doesn't. I'm leaving and don't even think I'm coming back, you have lost me, and I can't believe that you want you own son to rot in Hell. What would those other deacons think of you. Your such a backslider, you go to church every Sunday and agree with everything he says, but do you ever listen to what he says. If you ask me, no one deserves 'grace"," he used his fingers to make quotation marks around grace. "And no matter how much grace you receive you still don't think anyone else can receive grace. You go drinking, you beat us in a drunken stupor, and you have even ch . . ."

"That's enough, GET OUT!"

"Oh, don't worry dad, the truth will find you out." He pulled on his jacket, opened the door, and turned around to get his last comment in. "If you ever think you can forgive me and yourself then give me a call, and I will be more then happy to come back. I can't believe after the last five Christmas' you would think this one would be different."

He directed his last statement to his mother. The door slammed shut, the wreath fell off the door, and the loving mother's heart dropped to her knees.

"Don't tell me you went behind my back and invited the likes of him. It's a wonder he didn't bring his friend with him and corrupt our other children. Women, you better never do that again! I am the leader of this house and I won't have that demonic activity brought into it!" He raised his hand to let out his furry. "I do this cause you need to be reprimanded for your sins."

She back away. "Don't you even. I'm sick of it! I can't take it any longer. I packed my belongings this morning knowing that today wouldn't be any different. Can't we just bring a little bit of the season into our home, you know: joy, peace, hope, and love," the tears were staining her garment. "I'm leaving, you might want to think long and hard about what your son said to you, and when you have straightened yourself out call me. But I don't think you have to wonder if your son's ever coming back. How do you think he feels? Did you ever think of that before you just go yelling at him, no you only think about me, and no one els . . ."

Smack. He couldn't take the insulting anymore, his fury raising, and anger boiling, he hit his wife with all his anger. She fell to her side. She looked up at him, blood leaking from her nose. "Don't you hit me again. Goodbye."

She composed herself walked to the door moved the coats for off her bags. She, too, opened the door, and let the cold air smack his with all it's fury. "I'm sorry but it's finally come to this, you need to change, and I don't know any other way to help you do it."

He ran to her, and yanked at her arm that was holding the door open, "Don't you think for a minute I would ever change who I am just for you. If you leave, you're just a wench like your son."

"Get off me!"

He got off her, when he notice the commotion was causing a crowd.

The door hit his face, and the tears streamed.

It's about time to hit the bar. I can't take another minute.

He clothed himself, grabbed his keys from beside the door, and forgot about the children that ran upstairs when he hit their mother.

Hailey was four and hiding under her bed, and Billy was six and hiding under the upstairs bathroom sink. They didn't even notice their parents had left.

~

Scarlet wait till her husband left. She knew where he was head, the bar where else would he go to relieve his pain. She knew he wouldn't even think of their kid's, it was though he just wanted to forget he had any responsibilities at all except for telling his son how terrible he is for being gay. The truth was he just felt like a failure because his son hadn't grow up into the pastor his father wanted him to be. I guess since he thinks he couldn't help his oldest, that he can't help the others either. Which was furthest from the truth? They needed him, and so did she.

She gathered up the kid's. She knew where they would be hiding it's where she had told them to hide if they heard their dad screaming at her when he came home late at night. She could deal with him, but she couldn't think about him doing anything to the kids. She just couldn't live with herself if she let anything happen to them.

She packed up enough clothing for them for a week. Then they deserted the house.

This was the final act to try to help her husband. What the the therapist called it . . . "Tough Love."