Many children who receive therapy go in with a feeling of hopelessness. "Their eyes are dark. It's like there's no light," McDonald said.

Harris recalled an a 8-year-old boy telling her, "I'm haunted by what my dad did." Not only did he see his dad beat his mom, he saw him throw a small dog against a wall.

Vicki Proctor, Provo police victim advocate, acknowledged a void in services for children from violent homes.

"In Provo, we've recognized the problem and we've tried to address it," she said.

It is one of the few cities in the state to have a full-time children's advocate. A federal grant has funded the position the past six years.

"We're able to reach more people than we ever would" have before. "Children are getting services (who) would not have. We are able to catch those children who may be falling into the abyss," she said.

A year ago, Bobby's mother moved her children away from her abusive husband to a safe house in Salt Lake City. Bobby remembers the day.

"Everything changed," he said. "No more yelling. No more hitting.

"We're safe. A man can't come in here and just start doing something to the kids."

Prior to that day, he can't recall a time when his dad wasn't beating his mom.

Bobby's family recently left the haven in which they have lived the past year, the place where he says he has learned that he doesn't want to become like his dad. "I want to be a nice dad and take my kids out and have fun with them," he said.

But the thought of moving out scared him. Even though counselors taught him that kids need to be kids and grown-ups need to be grown-ups, he is still the man of the house.

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E-mail: romboy@desnews.com; lucy@desnews.com