𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒥𝓊𝒹𝑒,

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷

𝙰𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚜

[TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE]

I wasn't here.

This wasn't real.

Punch.

I was in home with parents, with a sister and brother, as we all ate dinner at the table, we all ate my favourite food...my favourite food...my favourite food?...

The thought sunk in, a heavy realization weighing on me—I didn't have a favori-

Kick.

The impact sent a shockwave through my body, jolting me out of the momentary respite I had found. My senses were overwhelmed, the sharp pain reverberating through every fibre of my being. But even as I recoiled from the blow, my mind refused to fully register the brutality of the situation.

Clutching my stomach, I lay sprawled on the bedroom floor. I realized he had never come up here before, a cold dread seemed to have seeped into my bones.

Kick.

Another kick landed, but it felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else, to another world altogether. My vision blurred, the edges of my perception fading into obscurity. I tried to focus, to ground myself in the present, but it was like grasping at smoke, slipping through my fingers with each passing moment.

The urge to cough seized me, as I spat out a mouthful of blood.

I tried so desperately to convince myself I wasn't here, but my eyes seemed to betray me. I blinked away the tears clouding my vision, hoping against hope for some reprieve.

He sank onto the floor, his weight pressing down on me, suffocating in its intensity. His hands, like iron vice grips, closed around my throat, cutting off my air supply. Through the haze of pain and fear, I could see the fury burning in his eyes.

His words, sharp as daggers, pierced the silence, laced with a venomous threat that sent shivers down my spine. "YOU DON'T GO DOWNSTAIRS UNLESS YOUR MOTHER TELLS YOU TO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? OR I'LL DO A LOT WORSE THAN THIS NEXT TIME", he screamed.

Fire seared through my lungs, a desperate plea for oxygen reverberating within me. Yet, caught in the tight grip of his hands and the crushing weight of his threats, I realized I was imprisoned, held captive within the confines of my own home.

I stared at him, dazed.

How could one man hold such anger?

I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness, as my vision began spotty. The black dot becoming bigger and bigger, as everything began fading to black.

Was I going to die?

Was this the end?

It was as if I could already hear Cindy McCarthy's voice anchoring the headline: [𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒] - TRAGIC DISCOVERY: YOUNG BOY FALLS VICTIM TO ABUSIVE PARENTS".

Perhaps then, they'd finally hear our pleas, and perhaps, just perhaps, we could be rescued. They could be rescued.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The hands released their hold, leaving behind a stinging sensation, as I watched him retreat from the corner of my eye. Gasping for air, I struggled to regain my composure, my chest heaving. I stayed there for a minute, exhausting every bit of oxygen I could, regaining my strength before attempting to pull myself up from the floor.