She Jumped—But I Wouldn’t Let Go / Chapter 3: Hunger, Bruises, and Broken Promises
She Jumped—But I Wouldn’t Let Go

She Jumped—But I Wouldn’t Let Go

Author: Matthew Gross

Chapter 3: Hunger, Bruises, and Broken Promises

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The doctor strongly advised against discharge, so Mom stayed another two weeks before finally going home. But the house wasn’t home anymore. It was a cage.

But she wasn’t happy. One day, I found her in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a paring knife, tears streaming down her face. The afternoon sun made the blade glint. My heart nearly stopped.

I ran over and grabbed the knife, my voice shaking. "Mom, give me the knife. I’ll peel you an apple."

Mom’s eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed in my arms, her body wracked with grief. "I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t."

I was terrified she’d try again, so I swapped the knife for the plastic toy one she’d bought me years ago. It was pink, with a faded sticker that read: Mom, I love you. Please stay. I pressed it into her hand, hoping she’d remember I needed her. I held my breath, praying she’d understand.

After that, thinking of me kept her from trying again. But she was depressed. Lost twenty pounds. She lay in bed with stomach pains, unable to get up. Her eyes lost their spark, and she drifted through the days like a ghost.

Word spread fast in our small town—everyone knew the Johnson family’s business. Whispers followed us at the grocery store and in church pews. I hated it, but there was no escaping.

One day, Mrs. Taylor from next door brought over a pot of chicken noodle soup, quietly handed it to me, and said to give it to Mom. She was kind, her eyes sad but determined. Her voice was gentle but edged with worry. I felt a lump in my throat.

"Your mom’s had a hard life with your dad. Why don’t you two just leave? He’s got a mean streak a mile wide. How much more can she take?"

I knew Mrs. Taylor meant well, but where could Mom go? She had no savings, her family was hours away, she couldn’t afford a bus ticket, and if Dad caught her, he’d beat her worse. The world felt small and full of traps.

Mrs. Taylor looked at me, then quietly told the truth. "During those months your mom was pregnant, I saw your dad with another woman over in Dayton. They went into a motel and didn’t come out for hours! Don’t tell your mom."

I felt like I’d fallen into an ice bath. When Dad claimed he was working overtime, he was with another woman. The betrayal stung, sharp and cold.

Cheating while Mom was pregnant. That’s who he was. There was no hiding from it anymore. My heart thudded in my chest.

Mrs. Taylor never lied—she hated gossip, but told me because she couldn’t stand it anymore. Her voice trembled with anger and pity.

I was about to confront Dad when a little girl’s voice piped up. "Grandma, I want candy." Mrs. Taylor’s granddaughter ran up, and she scooped her into her arms, her whole face lighting up with love. I watched, a little stunned.

"Be good, Maddie. Grandma will get you some." She smiled, eyes wrinkling kindly. For a moment, the world felt a little softer.

So there were grandmas who loved their granddaughters too. Not every family wanted only boys, not every granddaughter was unwanted. The realization was bittersweet, but it gave me hope.

In that moment, I held back from confronting Dad. Grandma hated me anyway. Even if I exposed Dad, she’d just side with him, and he’d cheat more openly. This couldn’t be rushed—it needed a plan, and patience I wasn’t sure I had.

Later, one night, I snuck into Mom’s room while Dad was out, hugged her, and whispered—

"Mom, let’s run. Let’s go somewhere Dad can’t find us." My heart pounded, but I meant every word.

Her eyes went wide. She was speechless. I could see hope flicker and then fade, like she was afraid to believe it.

What I didn’t know was Dad was standing right behind me, holding an axe. Bang! The axe landed at my feet with a heavy thud, splinters flying. My heart nearly stopped. My hands shook.

"Where do you think you’re taking your mom?" Dad growled, grabbing my hair and slamming me to the floor! The pain shot through my scalp, but I twisted and fought back, desperate.

I fought back, biting his arm and tearing skin. He howled, more out of surprise than pain.

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