The Legend of Elysia

The Beginning

When I finally came to, I noticed I was in my kitchen and sore all over. I was laid down on the floor directly in front of the refrigerator. My right arm was littered with fingerprint bruises, I noticed, and I cradled it to my chest wincing. I had to be cautious; since I didn't make it to my bed last night, I can't exactly do my morning routine to find out if he's home. He usually isn't in the mornings but I've learned from experience not to assume he'll suddenly become consistent so I'm always cautious when it comes to safety.

I slowly lifted myself off the ground, clutching my stomach in pain. I grit my teeth trying to make the littlest amount of sound possible. As I walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room, I made sure not to step on the floorboards that creaked, occasionally looking up to see if he was coming. I finally approached his bedroom door, which was left ajar. I opened it more so I could peek through, and sighed in relief once I noticed he wasn't in his bed.

When I turned around, I jumped when I saw a shadow, but it was only my six-year-old brother, Hendrix. A tear fell from my eyes when I noticed his disheveled state - his brown locs fell over his bruised blue eyes, and he walked with the limp our father gave him when he was only months old.

Hendrix limped over to me and gently hugged my left side, knowing that if he'd squeeze too hard, it'd cause both of us pain.

I inhaled his scent in happiness that he was okay. My little brother was okay.

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Last night we tried escaping this hell of a home. But it didn't work. It never seemed to work. I cried into Hendrix's shoulder and he tightened his hold on me, gently rubbing my back.

"Let's do it again, Elysia." Hendrix whispered to me.

I sniffed some snot up and pulled back from him.

"You're right. Um," I looked at the time on the cable box in Father's room that read 10:43 AM. "Let's go to our room, quick. You shower first and when-when you're done, I'll take a look at your eye." I said breathlessly.

He nodded and scurried away. I followed after him into our bedroom and moved the bed frame over to open the latch underneath quickly. There lay our suitcase, prepared for our perfect getaway.

It didn't work last night because he'd brought a woman home who left when she saw Hendrix and I. I'm just glad Father didn't catch us in the act; he just decided to beat us cause he couldn't pull her and she went snooping.

I put the suitcase on top of the sheets, closed the latch, and pushed the bed back in place. Inside we had some money we'd stifled from Father over the years, clothes, and a wig (for me).

When Hendrix came out of the bathroom wrapped in his towel, I sat him on the toilet's lid and pulled our safety kit out from under the sink.

It had things like ointment, duck bandaids, and a short piece of gauze we'd been saving. I walked out quickly to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of colorless absinthe, and went back to the bathroom. I grabbed his white shirt he'd been wearing before from the floor and poured some of the drink onto it before holding it on Hendrix's eye. He flinched and held it on.

"Keep it on for five minutes, then get dressed, and hold it on again for another five minutes." I told him, pushing him out of the bathroom.

I closed the door and got undressed, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a lioness, my hair untamed and screaming for attention. It was tangled and beautiful. Brown and fluffy, with the ends skinnier than its roots.

I turned the shower on and took my time cleaning myself, slow and steady; relishing the feeling of the cold water running down my body.

When I finished, I wrapped a towel around myself before entering our room and getting an outfit from the suitcase. A pair of blue mom jeans with a white t-shirt would suffice.

I entered the bathroom again to get dressed, brought the safety kit with me to our room, and got to work.

Ointment and the tiny bit of gauze for Hendrix's eye, and a bandaid for my right arm.

Then, I picked up the suitcase with my left, held onto Hendrix's hand with my right, and headed out of the hell we call home.