In Plain Sight

Angel L. Martinez Jr.

Description

In Plain Sight derives from true events. It is a heart wrenching story about a young boy and the horrors he encounters in his own home. The book goes explicitly into the daily occurrences of which he had no escape from.

Sujets

• Sight
• The Horrors (disambiguation)
• True
• Plain
• Martínez
• Angel
• Home
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 31 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669862789
• Langue: English

Extrait

In Plain Sight
 
 
 
 
 
 
Angel L. Martinez Jr.
 
 
Copyright © 2023 by Angel L. Martinez Jr.
Edited by: Haley Pugliese
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-6279-6

eBook
978-1-6698-6278-9
 
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 01/19/2023
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
850195
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgement
The Long Walk Home
Larger Than Life
Monsters Are Real
Hush Little Baby
Above It All
The Great Escape
Missing
Into The Darkness
Here And There
I’m Sorry
Resources
 
 
 
 
A Note to the Re ader
Please read with care.
This book contains sensitive material relating to:
child abuse, violence, depression, suicide, and makes reference to sexual abuse.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all those that have had a positive influence in my life, beginning with my father Angel L. Martinez Perez, who through tears and the belief that I too can be saved against all odds has inspired me to become the man I am today. His hard work and dedication to family has been paramount in molding into the person I am today.
Author
Angel L Martinez
Acknowledgement
Thinking of the people that are most deserving of an acknowledgement in this book was thankfully easy. My Journey was supported by various family members, co-workers and friends very special to me.
Although all are extremely deserving, my father Angel L. Martinez Perez is the reason I have become the person I am today. His dedication to his children, family and the belief that through our efforts and hard work we can achieve our goals. Thank you Dad.
My dear wife Emma whom I know I drive crazy at times and has always been supportive of me and trusting in that what I do in life is for our well-being. She cheers me on in all my endeavors. Thank you Emma.
There are of course others that have supported me through my journey and were there to give me advice and feedback. My son Giovanni who has always believed in me and loved me unconditionally. It is through him that I learned what it truly meant to love a son.
My Daughter Haley read part of my work early on and was extremely supportive of its contents. She believed in me and my work and she is one of the reasons I decided to continue my work. Thank you Haley.
Amber my daughter has shown me one very important thing, and that is that if you can give your all to your work and are dedicated to those you serve you can and should do the same for yourself. So Amber, have a margarita on me from the beautiful beach you may find yourself on.
The Long Walk Home
He hated that sound because it signified the end of something. It sounded like a fire alarm; it might as well have been. It interrupted his daydreaming; peaceful, happy thoughts of playing in the schoolyard running with friends, smiling, and laughing. He felt nothing but pure happiness like any child his age should. It is amazing how as a child you can feel the cool breeze even on ninety-degree, humid days. Every breeze was refreshing drying his body to make way for more sweat as he continued to run and play. He felt free and alive. He ran and ran with no exhaust in sight.
He had his head down when he heard that sound, dreaming those beautiful thoughts. As tired as he constantly was, he always played, ran, smiled, and laughed. It’s as if he had forgotten everything for the time being. Those thoughts were soon replaced as fear set in. The fear of the day ending. The fear of his laughter, smile, and happiness disappearing.
While he was slow in moving, reluctant to go, he felt the breeze from those that whizzed by him. His classmates were scurrying to gather their belongings. Some tripping over their own feet as they made their way towards the exit of the classroom, others moved so fast that they could not gather themselves at all and it slowed them down. The classroom now looked like a hurricane had passed through. Chairs had toppled over, others no longer in their places; papers and books littered the floor. The blackboard still had the day’s lessons and the night’s assignments. Most of them moved so fast that he wondered if they even had time to copy them down.
Out in the hallway he could hear lockers slamming as the other children packed up their belongings for the night, sneakers walking quickly towards the staircases as kids chatted with friends they hadn’t seen since recess. He must have gotten run into numerous times hearing the yells and high-pitched screams echoing through the halls. On the staircase, he could see children picking up scattered books and belongings, gathering themselves up at the landing.
It was a fall day, he could feel both the sun and a slight chilly breeze, both were welcomed. Several children threw their books down, running through the schoolyard while they waited for their parents to pick them up. How they managed to find all their belongings after is still a mystery.
He walked past the school buses parked by the curb, the bus monitors trying to rally the children as if they were chasing chickens. Some hung out of the bus windows yelling to their friends, “See you tomorrow!” as they walked past hand in hand with their mothers. He had an assigned bus but never boarded. He walked otherwise the trip would go by too quickly; a trip where he often wished time would either come to a crawl or a complete stop. He had often dreamed of stopping time. He could see himself climbing a church tower and wedging himself between the minute and hour hands, pushing as hard as he could with his back and feet to stop time for as long as possible. He continued to walk, waited at the corner for the light and the crossing guard to give him the ok. A bus whizzes by and another child yelled obscenities at him. The crossing guard gave him the ok and he walked toward her. She asked, “Walking home again?” He replied “Yes, it’s not too far,” wishing it were true. The air was getting cooler, like a minty feeling as the breeze hit his face. He pulled on the straps from his book bag and smiled as he thought to himself, it’s going to be a long walk home.
He had walked this path more times than he could remember, each time more beautiful than before. He always loved the way the trees completely lined the homes and streets, as if in a dome. This time of year, the leaves were turning colors and falling as he walked. The wind acted like a funnel, swirling the leaves, leaving them piled in bunches up and down the sidewalk. He kicked the bundles of leaves, scattering them all over, hearing the crunch from the ones he stepped on. The trees were tall, it seemed like an eternity for a falling leaf to make it to the sidewalk. The homes that lined the streets were beautiful, he always wondered how nice it would be to live in one of those homes, it seemed so peaceful. He watched as the cars pulled up to the homes, the kids swinging open the car doors and hightailing it to the porch. There was a bench on the porch and soft lighting. The homes radiated love and comfort. He wondered what that must be like as he heard their laughter echoing across to him. He put his head down and kept walking, he was no longer smiling. As beautiful as those homes were, as good as they made him feel inside, he couldn’t help but feel resentment. Why was he so sad and angry? Why couldn’t he live there with that family? Were they getting snacks, juice, or milk when they came home from school? Maybe some hot chocolate on a chilly day like today?
Every block he walked; he slowed down just a little. Not because he was tired but because he wanted to stop time for a while. He believed that the slower he walked, the slower time would pass. It worked. At least for him it did.
Buses were starting to pass the blocks he was walking. He could make out familiar faces through the windows. He was always curious to see if any of the buses would stop in front of these homes. With both hands in his pockets, he walked hunched over, kicking stones, feeling the anger building up inside. He didn’t know at that time why he was angry. He imagined he was angry at those other children, their moms and dads. He was angry at their beautiful homes and hot chocolate. He was angry at their laughter. He was angry because they seemed happy.
He picked up one of those stones he was kicking, and he flung it across the street into one of the porch windows. He heard the glass break, the crashing, smashing sound. His heart started racing as he grabbed the straps to his backpack and took off running. He made it to the corner and looked back at the house to see if anyone came out, they didn’t. He hoped they weren’t home. He did not want anyone hurt. He was just angry. Not at them, but at what they had, what he wished for. He walked around the block, taking his time in case someone came home. He wanted to pass the house he threw a stone at, the