Living with your family is supposed to be nice, isn't it? Family members are supposed to be the ones who should always be there for you. But sadly, family meant nothing to Nia.
Her mother and her brother never seemed to try to make her happy. Instea...
Nia cried out sharply as her mother, filled with anger, pushed her hands into a bowl of boiling water. Tears streamed down her face as she endured this pain, then was heartlessly pushed onto the hard floor by the person who should have kept her safe.
Leaning down to her daughter's eye level, her mother struck her face with brutal force, leaving an angry handprint on her tear-stained cheek. Hot tears streamed down Nia's face as her mother berated her, using cruel taunts to worsen her misery.
"Who gave you permission to stay out so late?" Her mother's voice thundered, though it was more accusation than question. "Oh, what can I expect from you? You were probably off enjoying yourself with some boys, weren't you, my lovely daughter?"
Before Nia could utter a word, her mother continued her verbal assault, cutting off any defense Nia might have offered. "Isn't that the truth?"
"Mot—"
"Silence!" Her mother's shout startled Nia, causing her to flinch. "I don't want to hear your excuses. Go to your room and don't dare show me your ugly face. You won't be getting any dinner tonight or breakfast tomorrow."
"Mom, please listen to me," Nia attempted to plead, her eyes brimming with desperation.
"Go to your room now!" Her mother's voice held a finality that crushed Nia's spirit. Struggling to maintain her composure, Nia limped towards the staircase, clutching the table for support as she slowly ascended, every step a painful reminder of the torment she endured daily.
Nia limped towards the staircase, clutching the table for support as she slowly ascended, every step a painful reminder of the torment she endured daily.
Entering her bedroom, a misnomer for a space that resembled more of a desolate basement with shattered windows than a place of solace, Nia pushed the door closed behind her. Her body slid to the cold floor, her back resting against the door, as she cradled her burned hands.
Her gaze drifted to the window, offering a view of the moon and stars that shone serenely in the night sky. For a brief moment, they provided a sense of solace, a contrast to the darkness that had enveloped her life.
Nia often questioned herself
What had she done to deserve this treatment? Shouldn't a mother be someone who loved, cared, and nourished her child, not one who inflicted pain? And her older brother, wasn't he meant to be a protector, even someone who would tease and annoy her?
Weren't families supposed to be a source of happiness and support, as depicted in stories and dramas? It seemed like an elusive dream, one that never found its way into Nia's reality.
Limping to a mirror, she examined her reflection. Her eyes were red from crying, her nose and cheeks flushed. A disfiguring scar on her face, extending from the corner of her left lip to the cheek. A small, bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she mentally chuckled at her own misery.
She searched under her bed and found a small first aid kit with mostly expired contents. She was more worried about hiding her burned hands from her mother than the physical pain. Carefully, she applied medication and wrapped her hands in a bandage.
Hungry and tired after not eating since morning, Nia looked around but found nothing to eat. She sighed deeply and drank a bottle of water to ease her hunger temporarily. Exhausted, she finally lay down on her cold, old bed, feeling relieved as she sank into the soft mattress.
As she tried to fall asleep, Nia couldn't stop thinking. Would her mother and brother ever treat her better? Could she find happiness, or would she keep suffering? Would someone rescue her from this painful life?
Nia fell into a deep sleep, unaware that more challenges awaited her.
