Maroon Nights | A Short Story [COMPLETE]

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I woke up to light streaming into my room, not remembering having fallen asleep. My eyes felt swollen from crying and the remnants of tears left my cheeks sticky.

I rolled into my side and glanced at the clock on my nightstand. My eyes widened upon seeing that it was almost ten in the morning. I hadn't slept in that much since I was five.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, feeling the slight soreness of my muscles. I hadn't gone swimming in so long that my body was a little tense from having to regain the muscle memory. At least I thought that it was from swimming. It may have been from being tense all night.

I always expected my father to be harsh with me, but never had I felt such fear around him. I had always known, comparatively, that I had it a lot better than some Asian children, but last night had started to change my mind.

My stomach grumbled, not used to being empty at this time of the morning. I glanced at my door, which still had my dresser guarding from any entry. While I knew there would be food downstairs, I didn't get up to move it. I knew that my father would still be fuming and that my mother would know by now. She would take his side, like she always did, and everything would blow up again.

So, instead, I found my bag, which still lingered at the foot of my bed, and dug around for something that might subside the hunger for a little while. I came up short, only having found a stick of gum that was probably older than my brother.

I sighed and dropped the bag again. Something fluttered on the floor from the gust of movement. My eyes flicked over, and when I realized what it was, my heart stopped beating.

My Bible sat in a pile, looking broken and sad and mutilated. The pages were torn from the spine and crumbled into a partial ball while the cover was flopped on its side, empty of the words it had once held dear. The words that I held dear.

My lungs burned and I released the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. Tentatively, I crawled from my bed and slipped down onto my carpeted floor. For a moment, I just stared at what used to be a pristine New Testament Bible. Then, with trembling hands, I picked up the hundreds of thin pieces of parchment. I started to lay them out flat, meticulously trying to fix them without tearing them more.

As I went from page to page, trying to ignore the tightening of my chest each time a rip widened from my touch, I eventually made it to Romans. And there, a verse was highlighted in bright yellow. What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? But there was a tear right down the middle of the page.

I collapsed back onto the side of my bed, my breath shaking as I stared at the torn paper in my fingers. I let my head fall to the side of the bed as well as my eyes fluttered closed.

What am I supposed to do, God? I thought, needing clarity. How do I have confidence in you when things are so broken?

But as I said this to him, footsteps sounded from the hall and my entire back went rigid. My direction of prayer changed. Thank you for protecting me always.

The walking stopped and I listened intently to see if whoever was out there had left or not. Finally, a soft knock brushed the door. "Rebecca?" a tight, squeaky voice called.

I exhaled. It was just Oliver.

But he didn't sound normal. His voice was even higher than usual, and there was a rough edge to it like he had been crying.

Standing, I walked toward my dresser but didn't move it yet. "What do you want?"

I heard a soft sniffle before he responded, "I just... I just want to talk to you." His voice nearly cracked at the end, and I felt my defense melt. Even though my little brother was spoiled and annoying most of the time, I still loved him.

I shoved my dresser away from the wall just enough to open the door a few feet. When I met my little brother's warm brown eyes, they were full of tears.

"Come in," I said gently, gesturing for him to enter. He rubbed the snot from his nose as he stepped inside and I tried not to cringe in disgust.

He flopped down on my bed as I closed the door.

"What's that?"

I turned, following his finger to the small pages laid out on my floor. I swallowed, my stomach knotting. "Just a book." I knew that wasn't true. My Bible wasn't just a book. But the less Oliver knew, the better.

I sat down next to him, leaving about a foot in between us as he scrubbed at the tear streaks on his face. We weren't really a touchy family, so I wasn't exactly sure if I should hug him or not. Deciding against it for the time being, I said, "What's wrong?"

He wouldn't look at me as he answered, "I heard you and Baba yelling at each other last night."

I blinked, guilt suddenly flooding inside me. "He was just upset because I did something bad."

Oliver shook his head. "He was more than upset. This morning, I woke up and went downstairs to see him talking to Mama. He was really angry and I saw him..." He glanced up at me, then to my cheek, and then down at his hands that he was wringing in his lap.

I rested my hand delicately on his shoulder, trying to persuade him to finish. "What did Baba do?"

"He... he hit Mama like he hit you, but... harder." Another tear slipped down his face, curving around his chin before falling down his button up shirt. "I'm scared, Bec," he whispered, a small sob trembling from his thin body. "What if he hits me, too?"

I had never seen my brother like this before, and now I was scared, too.

Before I could convince myself not to, I scootched over to him and wrapped him in a hug. He leaned into me, his cheek falling to my shoulder as he sniffled and cried. I rested my temple on his dark, unruly hair as my eyebrows knitted together. If Baba was hitting Mama, too, then I couldn't just sit by and let it happen. It was one thing to let him hit me, but Mama had done nothing but be submissive to him. Her submissiveness vexed me nearly all the time, but she was just doing what he wanted her to do. She didn't deserve being hurt.

I couldn't let him do this anymore.

"Oliver..." I mumbled into his hair.

He inhaled a shuddering breath before sniffling, "Yeah?"

I pulled away, looking him in the eyes so he knew how important my next words were. "Where is Mama right now?"

"In the music room. Why?"

"I want you to go straight to the music room to be with her, okay?"

His face contorted in confusion. "Why? What are you going to do?"

I ran my fingers over my bangs and sighed. "I'm going to try and fix things."

"How?"

I shook my head. "With the strength of God."

He still looked confused but I forced a smile and helped him stand up. He didn't ask anymore questions before leaving like I had asked him to, and I breathed in relief. I could explain it all to him later. Right now, I needed to figure out how I was going to get Baba to listen to me.

Slowly, a plan started to formulate in my mind, though the exact details were a little hazy. But I had to just go with what I had.

I rummaged around and found my phone, finding Cameron's name in my contacts and then pressing call. As it dialed, I sent out a silent prayer. If you are for me, God, who can be against me?

He answered almost immediately. "Are you okay?"

I chuckled slightly. "I'm fine, Cam. I just need your help with something..." I trailed off, not entirely sure how this was going to go.

"Okay. What is it?"

I took a breath and prepared to explain.

A/N Sorry this part was so short! I promise the next will be longer :) What did you think? ----->