Carta Nº 2

My name is Carlos Augusto Migliaccio, also
Known as Migli, a nickname my mother gave me
As you could see, my year of 2009 was horrible
And I couldn't imagine that 2010 would be worse
By this time, I had been cutting myself for about six months
And this terrible habit had already become my best friend

Nothing improved at school, I continued to be mistreated
And at best ignored
The only person who understood me a little was my mother
Who was very absent at home due to a promotion at work
I could tell you all the details of my life
Every tear, every cry, every disappointment
But I will tell you the day my life changed because of violence
What brought me here, rock bottom
This is letter no. 2

At school, I continued to be antisocial
Most students treated me badly
I was afraid of snapping like an American
Buying a gun and seeing everyone being nice
I asked God for their love
I asked God for their forgiveness
I asked God for the death of some of them
But God never listened to me
Because He always listened to them

My tears tasted like a bad past
My arms bore marks of a terrible present
My heart dreamed of a good future
Too bad my reality didn't come close

I arrived home from school after noon
I heard my mother crying softly in her room
I asked if everything was okay
She rarely opened up, I didn't either
She came down, we had lunch in silence
With my father not at home, the atmosphere was less tense
She had a heavy energy like steel
I noticed bruises on her arm
She said she bumped into the car door
Hurrying to work
That an ointment would solve it
She said she had a headache
Put aspirin in the glass, said: Thank goodness it dissolves
That night after dinner
I heard my parents arguing, shouting
And I was scared
Noise of things breaking, door slamming
While I was still cutting myself in my room

The next morning on the way to school
I saw my mother had a cut on her neck
I thought about asking what happened
But she wouldn't tell me, always made excuses
I spent the day with that idea stuck in my head
Are my parents okay? She's always hurt
My father is drinking more than ever
I know I'm not an example
But it doesn't seem like a good path

I'll never forget that day
2010, Saturday, November 20
Almost moonless night, heavy rain
You can ask for the details that I remember
I heard my parents arguing, my father losing his temper
Shouting that it was her fault, breaking things on the table
I remember hearing the sound of his slap
Her crying
The rain on the roof
And my cowardice

I wanted to get up and stop him
Call the police, call a neighbor
I wanted to have the strength to help my mom
But the fear I had was greater than heroism

I couldn't even save my own life
How would I save hers?
I felt horrible
Maybe deep down the students in the class were right
I was just a cowardly boy

With every sob I heard in the crying
I made a new cut on my wrist
I thought that if I pulled the pain from the house to my skin
Maybe it would lessen the pain he caused her
My blood flowed along with the guilt
All I thought was mom forgive me
Sorry for not being able to help you
Sorry for being a coward
Sorry for not having courage

At that moment my life lost its meaning
I couldn't help the only person who talked to me
Who didn't mistreat me, and who loved me
I lost count of how many times
I thought about leaving the room in the middle of the night
And killing that man I called father
But I was afraid
Afraid of him, and even more afraid of myself
Now I understood why she was so absent

It wasn't because of work
She hated that house as much as I did
I was too young to understand
Why she didn't leave, leave him and move on
Damn abusive relationship
He used my mother's suffering
To feed that filthy ego
And she paid the price
Alone
To this day I wonder what would have become of my mother and me
If that man had never hurt her
If the world hadn't created him to be so sexist
Or if I had the courage to do something
Well, maybe I wouldn't find myself here