The Accidental Avenger

This story contains dialog about domestic violence, incarceration, and substance withdrawal. While these elements are integral to the narrative, they are handled with sensitivity and care.

When I woke up this morning, I could never have imagined that by the end of the day I would be sitting in this jail cell. I could never have imagined that the one and only time I ever throw a punch in my life, it actually lands. I could’ve never imagined that not only does it land, but it lands right in the eye, causing a black eye and splitting some skin above the eyebrow.

What are the odds? I mean I’ve never even been in a fight in my entire life. But lately, because of the circumstances of my life, I was feeling helpless… and frustrated. I had done my research and read a bunch of statistics about domestic violence and my mother was increasing her odds of becoming a statistic by staying with this person who constantly indulges with alcohol, drugs and anger.

I knew she was terrified of him. I was scared for her too. I knew that it wouldn't be long before he hurt her really really badly and I would be damned if he'd be trying to kill her and I'd just be standing there… this frustrated scrawny kid, watching helplessly. I did call 911 the night he busted her ear drum. I don't think she appreciated that all that much because he picked up a charge and I'm sure she paid for it one way or another. I wanted to be her hero but instead she didn't talk to me for several weeks.

Then about four months ago I moved in with my best friend's family. My homelife became too distracting and I wasn't letting anything get in the way of me graduating from high school. Mrs. Graves, my best friend's mom, suggested that we start going to the gym and working out several times a week because she knew my situation. She told me about how change requires action.

I really only took up boxing just in case anything ever came of it with my mom and stepdad. And well, a few hours ago, something came of it.

Now I'm sitting here in this old jail cell trying to figure out what my mom must be going through because they took me away and she was left alone with him. For some reason the police didn't believe that I was acting in self-defense for my mother. And my mother wouldn't speak up and confirm that because she was afraid of him. And they believed the story he told them about me being a bad kid and needing to learn my lesson. And that was a total lie, I am a good kid actually. I don't get in trouble. I am a good student and even help out some of my elderly neighbors, free of charge, mowing lawns and running errands for them.

When I was put into this jail cell I noticed that there were three other teenagers here. Now they were staring at me intently. I didn't come here looking for a fight. And I didn't know much about jail and what I do know I learned from TV and movies. And well, apparently there's a lot of fighting going on in jail, but I don't feel so scrawny now. I don't feel so helpless either.

I've been here for about an hour and I realize how much trouble I might be in. I am so worried about mom. There was a pay phone on the inside of the jail and you could use it anytime you wanted, but there was a line every time I looked up. And there were lots of frustrated people in that line and right now someone was on the phone and seemed to be just talking nonsense forever. And I had a feeling that one of those fights might just break out right here, right now… but everybody held it together because of the sign above it that said Fight and Lose Phone. And finally it was someone else's turn.

I looked over where a toilet was just sitting right in the middle of the room. I can't believe there is absolutely no privacy. I was terrified that I might have to go pee or God forbid, poo, with everybody watching me. Somebody was lying on the floor next to the toilet and appeared to be convulsing. It troubled me that nobody seemed concerned as I was fighting the urge to run over and try to assist, and lose my place in line. A guard just happened to be walking by and I said, “excuse me…excuse me guard, I believe the person over by the toilet needs your assistance… if I'm not mistaken it looks like they're convulsing…could you please come help?”

The guard looked at me as if I'd asked him to loan me some money and kept going. Suddenly I felt everybody in that big holding cell staring at me. Did I do something wrong? The person on the phone was angry and cursing loudly then they slammed the phone down into the cradle and now only two were ahead of me.

I noticed that the three teenagers were staring at me intently so I stared back intently. Are they sizing me up?

Another barrage of cuss words and then the phone slammed down again. I was in line staring at the person on the floor that was still convulsing. I occasionally glanced up at the other teenagers to find them still staring at me, as my mind raced with thoughts of what's happening to Mom. When the police car rolled out of the driveway I was looking back at her. I'm not sure but the look on her face said she was disappointed in me. She looked terrified. My step dad was standing there with another officer and he was playing the victim so well. A little trickle of blood had dried right above his eyebrow, and when they put me in the car he'd been talking in this strange high-pitched voice that I've never heard before. I remember thinking it was getting pretty thick around there, the bullshit that is.

Finally my turn came to use the phone. And I hesitated to grab it because it was carrying the tears and snot of dozens of people before me. I considered taking a hard pass but thought about Mom, and put the gross condition of the phone out of my head. And right away a recording came on and asked me for my full name, And then it proceeded to tell the person that answered the phone that a collect call was coming in from the county jail from me and would they accept the charges… to which I heard my stepfather's voice say no and he hung up.

If he will be answering the phone how will she know I'm trying to get a hold of her. Even still, from here I definitely can't protect her. This woman used to be my hero. She was so brave and such a fighter, and as a single mom she had to fight for everything. But I never went without. She advocated for me, trusted me and respected me. And I respected her and looked up to her.

But lately I hadn't been looking up to her. I've been feeling sorry for her and afraid for her. And now my feelings of hopelessness are compounded by my feeling of powerlessness, as I honestly have no clue about what was going to happen to me. Or her. As I put the phone back in the cradle I look up and there's my audience staring intently at me. I grunted at them and turned away.

There was a nearby bench that was unoccupied and I decided to go sit on it and keep an eye on the person on the floor that had stopped convulsing and I hoped was still breathing. I think that's when I dozed off for a little while and woke up with a start not remembering where I was or what happened. A quick look around verified that I wasn't just having a nightmare. I was actually really here, and to my surprise I started crying. And not just crying but sobbing. I didn't even care who was looking, nor did I care what anybody in that place thought of me. But I did care about the fact that I was only 16 years old and was possibly going to go to prison or have a record following me around all because I was trying to help my mother. I was perspiring, and almost overcome with anxiety. I looked up and the three were again staring at me and this time I spoke up.

“Is there a problem?“, I said. “Do you need something from me? Am I the only entertainment you have?”

And the minute I said those things I regretted it because I sounded so mean and rude and they really hadn't done anything. They were just bored and stuck in the same place I was and just watching people but watching me the most, but that was probably because we were all close to the same age I assumed.

I glanced over at the phone and there was nobody in line. Almost as if the phone was taking a lunch break or something. So I jumped up and sprinted over to the payphone and realized I was racing no one. I picked up the receiver, gave my name and felt the butterflies in my stomach as I prayed my mom would answer the phone. And to my great relief she accepted the collect charges, and right away asked me how I was…was I okay? She was sincerely worried about me. She wasn't angry, at least not the kind of angry where she wouldn't speak to me. I was relieved and anxious and disappointed all at the same time and I blurted out, “mom what's going to happen to me? I'm scared and there's a person dying on the floor. There's three other teenagers here that won't stop staring at me and nobody's told me anything and I've been here hours now?”

Mom said she didn't know what to expect and for me to hang in there and to pray. She whispered to me that when I get home we can plan her escape. I knew in my heart she was serious. I promised I would keep her posted and asked her to please answer the phone. The whole time he was screaming in the background that he hoped I rot in jail. Or did he say hell?

I put the phone on the cradle and that's when the first teenager asked me what I was in there for… and I told them that I had defended my mother. That I had gotten between my mother and my stepdad who had raised a lamp over his head to hit her with and in the heat of the moment I threw a left hook and it landed.

The teenagers just stared at me but they were listening. As were many others in the room, but they were pretending they weren't interested. I suddenly felt the urge to justify myself so I went on to explain further that my mother was being abused for several years now and that she had tried to leave him but that he had destroyed everything she had and put a gun to her best friend's head and she knew she was stuck so she stayed to protect me. One of them was squirming a lot when I was talking. But no one said a word and I am thinking maybe they thought I was in the wrong, so I said, ”My stepdad is a horrible person!”

“I'm afraid he's going to kill her and if I have to I'll do it again.”

They stay silent but one of the teenagers is grinning. And instantly, out of nowhere I blurted out, "He wipes his boogers on her”, and everyone burst out laughing.

I broke the ice. And they were laughing because it was awkward not because my mother had boogers wiped on her. They all pretended to put boogers on each other laughing and jumping around and then suddenly one of the teenagers got real serious and said, “you don't even belong here”.

I realized my cheeks were getting red and I looked away for a moment. Then the other one piped in, “you're a hero, you know. It takes a very brave person to get between their mother and a psychopath, and an even braver person to land a left hook when throwing their first punch.”

“Brave or stupid”, said the teenager who'd been quiet up until this point.

And we all started cracking up, laughing much harder than the situation called for. And it was a great destresser, lifting the awkwardness and creating camaraderie.

The one who spoke first said, “You should be very proud, and I bet your mom is proud too!”

I pondered that thought, and it grew very quiet.

“My mother needs me right now, she's not strong like she used to be, not only has he broken her physically, he's breaking her mentally.”

And my lips started to quiver and my eyes watered up. Oh boy, what could I possibly look like to them… scrawny teenager crybaby…that has learned how to fight. A heavy bag that is. An Accidental Avenger, sitting in this city jail, uncertain about everything and my fear blatantly showing.

But before I could get too caught up in anxiety about my situation, the person on the floor started moaning loudly and I can tell whatever was going on in that person's body was not good. It looked like something you would not even wish on your worst enemy and this time I jumped up and started screaming through the bars “guard… guard… you need to help this person… they're dying here. Please have mercy!”

And a guard casually strolled over and opened the cell door. He walked over to the person on the floor… checked inside their mouth, brushed his gloved hand across the forehead and stood up and walked away. He looked back at me and said “that's what you look like when you're coming off of heroin, kid!”

I was the only one in my circle of friends who had not tried any drugs. I had tried a few beers, and a couple of cigarettes but mostly my friends only smoked a little grass. Now and again you will hear of somebody popping a pill… but heroin? I had watched a movie called “Trainspotting”, and I had declared right then and there that I would never in my life, ever, try heroin. And now right at my feet was confirmation to that sincere declaration.

In the hours to come it got so boring, and out of desperation my curiosity got the best of me and I started asking all kinds of questions, and people were eager to talk. And in the 6 hours since I got there I found out that after this part I would go see a judge and then that judge would decide if I got to post bail, if I got to leave on my own recognizance, or if they were dismissing the charges.

So far nine people had been escorted out to see the judge and were either processed or sent home. And six new people had been arrested and put in the holding cell. The person on the floor had thrown up everywhere, and I'm pretty sure I smelled poop and just prayed that that person did not suffer that type of indignity on that jail cell floor in front of all those people while coming off of heroin.

Someone told me that in order to get medical care you have to be able to ask for it. In regards to the person coming off of heroin, and the condition they were in, I found that disgusting and unfair. I made a new declaration that night that I would never see the inside of a jail cell again, not if I could help it.

Finally it was my turn to go see the judge. I gave my new friends hugs goodbye and we all wished each other well, and before I knew it I stood before a stern looking female judge who had her blonde hair tied back in a tight bun and her makeup was surprisingly fresh to be so late at night.

She already knew the whole story but she asked me to repeat it so I did, sparing nothing.

And the judge said, “I'm very proud of you for standing up for your mother. I cannot condone a person resorting to violence to resolve a situation. However, it is understandable that at that moment, after having seen this many times. your reaction may have been appropriate and even necessary… to stop him. You are a very courageous young woman and I am rooting for you, and praying your mom is able to leave this man, hopefully sooner than later. I need you to know you are very smart and brave. You are your mother's keeper, and you should be proud of that.”

“But make no mistake”, the judge continued, “It is not safe for you to return to your mother's home. Our Victims Advocate is waiting to help you and your mother find safe shelter while we sort everything out. And by the way your mother is very proud of you. She called you her hero.”

After speaking with the victims advocate I had so many things running through my head. But we had a solid plan.

And I am going to teach my mom how to box.