𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 ||𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨 𝐏𝐝 (𝐔𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝)

Chapter 3

Countless hours had passed since the sound of shattering glass and curse words had re-entered my life, my dad has been quiet ever since whereas I have been cooped up in my room, hiding behind the thin material of my curtains.

The windowsill was barely big enough to fit my petite body inside, but I made use of it. Ignoring the discomfort, it was one of the only places in this house where I could feel slightly safe and despite the walls squishing my limbs, and being trapped between them, it was how I wanted to feel

Closed off.

When things would escalate further then the usual patterns of words and lashes, hiding in this spot in case my dad decided on a round two or a further punishment, acted as a miniature escape.

Regardless of the temptation, one thing I could never bring myself to do at this point, was leave the house. I was weak, and there was quite a steady drop from where my journey to the ground would have been.

Besides this, I had no where to go, no where to run and it' s not like I would be able to knock on my front door and enter without being punished for running away, even if it was only a temporary solution.

A large oak tree sits outside my window, staring in and watching my every movement peacefully. The branches, at either side of the living antique, spiral all the way down to the ground. It was beautiful, I' d spend my recovering hours studying every aspect, after all, there was nothing much more I could do to entertain my young self.

Movement catches my attention, and I briefly bring my gaze to the two men holding hands and a young girl around my age beside them. They were walking happily down the street, talking with huge smiles along their faces, only reminding me further that they had something I never will. A happy family

I didn't recognise them, that's why I was so intrigued at the newcomers who were gradually becoming clearer to see. Hardly anyone walks or travels down this street anymore, most people just stick to themselves they were the first forms of human life that I'd seen since I'd been sitting in this spot.

The angle I was curled up at made it impossible for those outside to see me, so when they came to a sudden halt and looked up at my house, being spotted was the least of my worries. My calm and collected state was demolished further as the two men began to edge closer to our driveway.

I bolted.

Leaping off the windowsill, and squirming slightly, I made a fast exit out of my room and sprinted downstairs. When I reached the last step and finally bounded to the floor, my mother came into view, holding a similar worried expression across her face. Frantically, we rushed around the house in an attempt to hide and clear up any signs of conflict or destruction.

Hearing the commotion, my little brother appeared at the bottom of the stairs, standing beside me as I scurried along the floor trying to sweep up any remaining pieces of glass. On numerous occasions I repositioned him, the last thing my family needed at this point was an open wound and if Luke kept stepping towards the mess, then that would be the case.

The sweet melodic scale of the doorbell was acid to my ears. It froze me in my path to the small bin situated in the corner of the kitchen, and my eyes squinted in a poor effort to block out the sickening sound of a fake and pathetic resemblance to what this house is truly like.

After emptying the tray of shards that I had scooped up, I dusted myself off and took in a deep breath. I heard the rattles of the door being unlocked by my father, and the familiar faces of the three newcomers came into view.

The girl was the first to speak, which didn't bother the two men in the slightest, in fact, they looked like they were expecting it. She stepped forward onto the small brown mat on our porch and held her arms out confidently. In her hands were a plateful of cookies, covered by a flimsy layer of clingfilm. My mouth watered at the sight; desert was not an option with my father around.