Till The End

Chapter 2.

Aelia

I feel a knot in my stomach as I get closer to my house. I slow my pace. It has been two days since I left that same house, running and crying. I only came back because I have to take my school materials for tomorrow; I left a bit in a rush the other day and did not take them. Mia offered to accompany me to pick it up after I told her about what happened, but I refused. I will stay home tonight. I don't think he is in the same state anymore anyway, usually it does not last more than a day. I only release my breath when I see my mom sitting alone in the living room watching TV. He is not home yet. I give her a quick hug from the back before heading to my room. Showering is my priority right now, I have not been able to shower after practice today. Mia and I have been taking Muay Thai courses for almost three months now. She convinced me to take self-defense courses with her so that she could turn the situation around when Dylan tackles her, but when we got to the gymnasium, the coach convinced us to take the Muay Thai course instead. Mia grew up with boys; Jake, their brother Austin, who is two years younger than us, and Dylan. All their games included some kind of fighting at one point. She used to win, but when the boys reached puberty and grew muscles, she could not really win anymore, but that doesn't mean that she would not fight. I am an only child, but as I spend so much time with them, it's almost as if they were my siblings. Well, except for Mr. 'she is not my sister, we are not related'. Austin was not born when their father left. They never heard from him again. Being the eldest, Jake helped his mother take care of the family. He is the closest thing they have to a paternal figure. He took care of them while their mother was working. He learned how to clean the house and cook all by himself. He started to work at a very young age to help his mother financially. Even though she had several jobs, sometimes it was not enough. I guess this is why he is always so serious; he never really got to be a kid. At fourteen years old, he had to quit school to start working full time as his mom got into a serious accident at work. Maria, their mother, has always been nice to me and treated me like her own child. She got a concussion when a box filled with heavy materials fell on her. At first she seemed fine; she could still talk, laugh, and do chores, but her health kept getting worse with time. It has been almost two years now since she has been living in a nursing home as she is now suffering from severe amnesia and needs constant assistance. It was not an easy decision, but it was the best option. She is better there, and we all visit her several times a week.

After my shower, I decide to finish an assignment due in two days while I listen to music. I am nearly done when I receive a text from my mom asking me to come down for dinner. She probably called me, but I didn't hear her because of the music. For a moment, I forget about what happened two days ago until I enter the dining room and see him sitting at the table. My breath catches in my throat as the memories of all the disgusting words my father threw at my face two days ago emerge. He reminded me of how much of a disappointment I was to him, of how he thinks I am not intelligent enough, not attractive enough, that there must be something wrong in my head because I have difficulty talking to people, and how I am so broken that even the best therapists money could buy could not fix me. The worst part about that day, or every other day he's "having a bad day," as my mom describes it, is that I could not think of anything to say or anything to defend myself. Because it is true, there is something wrong with me. My brain chooses to stop working, especially in the moments when I need to speak. So I do nothing; I stand there, taking in all his complaints and all his criticism. I try to ignore it as much as I can, but sometimes it's just too much to take, so I leave to go to the only place I really feel comfortable: anywhere with Mia.

Just like I thought, the monster is not here anymore. The man sitting at this table in front of me is the perfect father everyone thinks he is. The monster is tucked deep inside, waiting for the next opportunity to attack again. I do not greet him when I walk past him, and he does not acknowledge me either. I sit in my usual place next to my mom, and we eat in silence. As always, everybody will pretend nothing happened and that we are a big happy family. Frank Anderson, the owner of the successful car selling company Anderson's Auto since the death of my grandfather George, who is the founder of the company, Natasha Anderson, the very intelligent high school teacher, and their daughter Aelia, the sweet, studious girl my father likes to describe to his friends.

My mother and I have a strong bond. During my early childhood, she was the only person I could talk to. She is very loving and supportive. She is also the sweetest person I know, always trying to help others. She always sees the best in people, which is not always a positive trait. My father may be horrible to me,but he is way worse to my mom. She always forgives him. She always says that he does not believe anything he says and that he is just having a bad day. She focuses on how he is with her the rest of the time, a loving and caring husband.