𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, ronance

𝐈𝐈 ━━ like yesterday

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: this chapter contains depictions of sexual assault, abuse, and depression. please take care of yourself and consider whether you are comfortable with proceeding.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The dreams are the worst part, lingering like the scent of wine on a drunken whisper.

They're fragments of a past I'd much rather forget, but they refuse to be silenced, demanding to be heard. They're shards of broken glass scattered across the landscape of my mind, waiting to be pieced together into something I can understand.

They haunt me, and they start with my father.

I was just a child when it started— a naive, innocent soul untouched by the darkness that lurked beyond the walls of our suburban home.

My father became a stranger, a shadow that stalked the halls with a rage that knew no bounds.

His words were daggers, slicing through the fragile fabric of my childhood, leaving behind wounds that never seemed to heal. He would scream, his voice echoing off the walls like thunder in a storm.

But it wasn't just the words that hurt— it was the silence that followed, the deafening absence of sound that sucked the air out of the room like a vacuum.

My mother had woken me up one night, packed and ready to leave, but that didn't end well. I wear the stripes from that night with a dull ache in my chest.

I'm a disappointment to him— a burden he's forced to bear. He doesn't see the scars beneath my wrists or the pain in my eyes.

He doesn't realise he's fighting a war he's already won— because I've given up.

And then there was the other thing— the thing I've never dared to speak of out loud.

The air was heavy with the scent of cheap beer and stale cigarettes, the relentless beat of the music pounding in my ears.

I'm surrounded by people, faces blurred by the haze of alcohol and the smoke-filled room. Steve was there too, his smile bright and infectious as he offered me another drink.

I was young, too young to understand the darkness that lurked behind his eyes— the hunger, the desire, the twisted longing for power and control.

Before I know it, I'm alone, isolated in a room filled with whispered promises and deceitful smiles.

I've tried to push the memories away, to hide them beneath layers of denial and shame. But they bury their claws in my mind, tearing through the delicate walls I've constructed to protect myself.

There's a hand on my shoulder— a touch that sends shivers down my spine and leaves me feeling cold and numb. I try to pull away, to escape the suffocating grip of fear that's wrapped its hands around my throat...

But it's too late— he's holding me down.

I tried to scream—to fight back—to make it stop. But he was stronger, his vice-like grip around my hands. He took everything from me— my innocence, my dignity, my sense of self.

The sound of my own voice haunts my dreams— please, please, please.

The taste of salty tears on my cheeks as I struggled to breathe lingers in the back of my throat— help me.