She was caught in destructive insanity. Her hatred and bile, dismantling the children. Bit, by bit, by bit. They had no defense against the desolation. So they hid, in music, in games, in teenage obsessions.
They didn’t know the violence was meant against herself. They didn’t know the hate was meant for her own abuser, against whom she still was as helpless as the children against her rage.
Her memory ran havoc like her emotions. Victim to the projections of her garbled mind. She had no sense of truth. Reality a concept only grasped in quickly vanishing moments of clarity.
But he, he let her in. His mislead sense of justice opening the door. Insisting on how things ought to be; just because they would be right. Anger flailing as with every turn he once again learned that right is not real just because it’s right.
He let her in. Into his head, into his mind, into his soul, into his bed. And every time when he became upset. And every time when he became angry, her poisonous darts dug deeper into his soul, and his children broke a little bit more.
Roar, lion roar. Sometimes one has to take the thorny path. There is a purpose for lawyers after all.