A Silent Moon

Chapter 4- Hierophant

Trigger Warning: DV (Domestic Violence)
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{Chase}

After I was discharged from the hospital, I was graciously taken back home. And for added protection, I think Hermit cast a spell on me because he blew some sort of purple dust on me...

I was going to ask him what it was, but he dissipated as quickly as his dust did.

"Go on..." Hermit's voice echoed inside of my head. A bit eerie, but I shook it off and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as I could. As if it would delay the inevitable....

I was told that if I were hurt by my father again, I'd be able to withstand it. But since I wasn't fully awakened, I would still have to bear the full assault of pain that my father punches into me.

My hands were a little shaky as I opened the door. I couldn't help but fear just what my dad was prepared to inflict on me. There was no telling what went inside of his head. Maybe Hermit would know.....

I stopped stalling and opened the door. I hurriedly moved inside and made sure my steps were as quiet as it could be. But, unfortunately, that wasn't enough.

"Where the hell've you been?!" There it was. The voice I dreaded in my nightmares every night. Shouting at me with a voice slurring from drunkenness. He held a bottle of gin in his hand. Of course he'd been drinking. It was a habit my father formed after mom left us. He blames his alcoholism on me, which is bull. But.... Not like I had the courage to point that out.

I tried to stand straight, but my legs betrayed me and started to shiver out of fear.

Dad took a swig of his gin and placed it down on the table, I knew exactly what he was going to do. And it was as I had feared. He pulled me by my hair and started to shout at me every grievance he held in his heart for me, every regret and how I failed him as someone who was going to be his "legacy." How I failed him for not being the perfect son he wanted.

Along every bit of insults of disdain he had for me, he would slap my face with the force of his relentless rage. Brought his knees to my abdomen, and left ugly bruises on my arm.

He never really began hurting me when I was a child. It was only a year after mom left that, when he had no one else to vent his anger to and his frustrations over having no one to order around did he finally lay a hand on me.

I was used to it by now, and all I could ever do right now was to stifle my cries and hide my tears. So that they wouldn't further aggravate him. I knew I was a disappointment to my father, I didn't need my crying to remind him that and hit me even more....

After he had had enough, he just left me sprawling on the floor. But not before he gave me a final kick to the stomach. Then, he left the house. This always happened. Whenever he was finished beating me up, there were only ever a few places he went to. Bars, his friends or with another woman for the night.

It felt like just a minute had barely passed when the purple dust Hermit had blown on me started to lift up and glow; condensing into a ball of violet light that blanketed my wounds. The pain suddenly alleviated, and I could see that they lightened up a little bit.

I suppose that dust was more to help me with the pain and make it look less grotesque. I sighed, feeling relieved that I didn't have to suffer through the pain for the rest of the day.

Right now, I needed to go to my room to check out that mirror Hermit told me about.

I went into my room upstairs and locked the door behind me. Just as a precaution.

I looked around at my room and noticed that it was just as I had left it. Just plain grey, dull and lacklustre. When we moved here my dad had told me that so long as there were no 'gay shit' around, he would leave my room alone. In fact, I think he preferred if I were to die in my room and stay inside for the rest of my life. Fortunately for me, even he knew that he had to keep up appearances for the neighbours.