Chest Punch – How to break a child

Chest Punch – How to break a child

This is one of my top ten childhood memories. That sounds somewhat messed up, but it’s the reality of a childhood. My closest to age brother was always the black sheep. He was the weakest of the weak and the most coward of all of us cowards. My dad mostly had him trained. When my dad insulted him, my dad would make him agree to his insults or beat him. When my brother did something wrong, his punishments were always more intense than mine. My dad taught my brother how to cower down to him and to never rise up against him or vocalize a differing thought.

One day, when my brother was eleven or twelve, he made the mistake of mumbling something to my dad. He didn’t just say it out loud because he lived in fear yet he lacked the self-control to keep his thoughts in his head like me. My brother had just watched my other brother get beat up and he was furious. He mumbled something to my dad. His plan had worked. My dad took the focus off of beating up my younger brother and instead his temper boiled over because his son was pointing out something that wasn’t right.

My dad, with his solid husky build quickly made his way over to my scrawny, malnourished brother and picked him up by the shirt with on arm. With his dominate hand free, he took all the power behind a 200 pound man and drove an closed fist into the face of my brother and then dropped him to the ground. My brother’s body just laid there. My dad asked him if he wanted to fight but my brother didn’t answer him quick enough. My dad stood him back up, pushed him up against the wall and proceeded to repeatedly punch him in the chest as hard as he could.

After a minute or so, he dropped him back to the ground. My brother would never rise up to my dad again. He would remain a coward and never mumble or look him in the eyes again. He would never rise up and become a man because he was beat down as a child.

I was standing four feet away from this and frozen. I couldn’t think and I couldn’t respond. I was in shock. Where does a child register any of this? How do we move on or recover? No one was coming to protect us and no one cared.

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