A Spark of Hope

Chapter 1 - Broken Promises

He did it again. He always does it again. And though he made me a promise, he broke it, again. He always breaks promises.

My father, the drunkard of the family, the person responsible for making mom leave, the person responsible for my bruises all across my back, the person who was always responsible for every little dismay and terrible thing in my life. That was my father. He never worked, so I had to drop out of school to get several jobs just to keep up with the mortgage payments. I even helped our neighbor, Cade Yeager, with the inventions he had made. We'd split the profit, but there were still great expenditures of alcohol and drugs. I was the only reason why we still had our house and our land in the countryside of Texas. Yet, every night, I got beat up for no reason at all. Only for the amusement of my under-influenced father, if I could even call him that.

However, I learned. I learned how to predict the right moves, the right timing to escape his grasp on those dreary nights. I would escape to the Yeager's land, about a mile away from my own house. I would run, listening to my father's profanity fly out into the air, only for my mind to hear and to take notice of it. And though I so wanted to ignore it, it still stung my heart. It still made me feel like I was the mistake. If I didn't exist, I wouldn't have to go through all of this. I wouldn't have to cry every night to sleep. I wouldn't have to feel as if my life would end at a moment's turn. I wouldn't have to run.

Even with all of these negative thoughts consuming me, I never was able to bring myself to jab that knife into my jugular. I couldn't do it. All of those sleepless nights, lying on the floor because I couldn't move from the beatings, just staring at the knives on the kitchen counter. I couldn't grab it. It would never work.

Tessa, Cade's daughter, and my best friend would always be there for me. I trusted her. She and her dad were the only people I could trust in this world we call Earth. I could run to them for anything. Once, I stayed at their house for a week to heal from my wounds. Even though they tried to prevent me from going back home, I still went back. I didn't know what made me go back, but I did. I didn't want to, and Lord did I try to not go back, but I still did. Back to that wreak of a house, back to him.

And even now, as the punches fly and my skin opens a sore to bleed onto the floor, I still felt trapped. Like I couldn't escape this abyss of tyranny. Where can I go? My conscience never left me alone with the thought that this house and my abusive father were the only things I had left to live for. Things to care for, even if they threatened to kill me. And like a little weak child, I cried under the blows of my father's fist. Begging for him to stop. But he never relented.

In a blink of an eye, my heart was tugged in an opposite direction than it had been before. It was trying to make me...leave. Before my father could hit me again, my limbs acted before my mind caught up to everything. And I ran. I threw the door of the old farmhouse wide open, darting across the overgrown grass field of our property. I ran without a thought of a destination. The only thing in my mind was the screaming voice of my father and the pounding thumps of my feet hitting the ground. I didn't look back, I just ran forward.

I came to the edge of our property where the dirt road separates two owned lands. I knew exactly where I was and where I could find help. My weak legs pushed onward, jogging up the long dirt path to their quaint farmhouse. I could feel my back bleed and my eye began to swell. Tears came pouring out as my heart and mind synced to the realization of freedom. For the first time in my life, I felt like there was hope for me and my wretched life.

I turned quickly, bringing my pace to a full sprint to the barn. Uncle Cade, as I called him, used the barn as his workshop for inventions. It was a drafty old thing, but it served a good purpose.