It's Always Been You

Malcom

Hey y'all. Thanks so much for reading. This has a bit of sensitive content with sexual abuse, so read at your own risk. :)

Today it's cloudy outside. Typical. It always seems to be cloudy on days my father drinks alcohol. Which is almost every day. 

Today is different though. Like it's almost going to rain. Not a light rain, or a gentle rain. Rain that drenches you from head to toe; rain that causes your hair to stick to your body and wind to run through your bones. Rain that causes you to rethink all your decisions of deciding to walk outside instead of driving in your car. Something must be really bad at home. 

I was right. 

I hear the screams from a block away; Rosie 

As soon as I open the door, the sound hits me like a wave that crashes against the cliffs. I walk in to find my father stripping Rosie down, ripping her shirt off her back, exposing her bare chest. Her pants are thrown in the other room, leaving just her underwear on. I watch as he kisses her, and fondles her boobs, and licks down her core and continues to move down, slowly. I watch as she writhes under his hands; she's strong, but not as strong as him. 

I can't watch anymore. 

I walk up to him and hit him as hard as I can. I've never hit him before. I've thought about it sure, but I've never actually done it. 

I watch as he reels on me, letting go of Rosie. His eyes are no longer full of wanting and lust. Just red, hot anger swims between each pupil. He spins towards me, gripping my shirt and shoving me to the wall. Then, he puts his fingers around my throat, squeezing tightly. 

I can't breathe. 

I look around as Rosie tries to get him off me and Lily stands in horror, screaming. This only makes him squeeze his fingers tighter. Lily starts to cry, and Rosie is trying everything she can to get him to let go of me. But it's not working. 

Stars fill my eyes and the edges around my vision begin to turn black. I limp under his fingers, slowly being choked to death. 

As soon as I think I'm going to die, his grip loosens and he falls to the floor. 

Mom.

She has a pot in her hand, and my father has a bump on his head. 

"Pack up your things. We're leaving." she says. 

We all rush to grab our clothing and suitcases, stuffing things into them as quick as we can. We don't have long before he wakes up. 

Soon, we are all downstairs with our bags, throwing them in the car. Mom takes the money hidden beneath our silverware drawer in the kitchen and runs outside to join us. We don't bother closing the front door. 

Once we are all in the car, she hits the gas pedal and we speed away, leaving behind our drunk father and old exhaust. 

"Where are we going?" Lily asks. 

Mom doesn't respond. Neither does Rosie or I. 

The truth is none of us know. We just know we have to get away.