Amara

Chapter 30 - Teacher

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"Kindness is a language that the blind can see and the deaf can hear."

- Mark Twain
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Amara's POV: TW - Mention of Abuse

I am in the kitchen, trying to reach up to the high shelf that holds the popcorn. I have been here for over a month yet still Papa forgets that I am a lot smaller than he is and I am unable to reach the top cabinets in the kitchen. So, I am currently Spiderman climbing my way to the top. Finally, I reach it grabbing a packet and climbing back down the way I came.

I place the packet in the microwave and turn it on. The continuous popping sound starts up as I grab a medium-sized bowl from the shelf, that thankfully isn't too high up. As the sound from the microwave dials down I open up the door taking the hot package out and dumping the popcorn into the bowl. I rush out of the room, moving over to the couch, and getting comfortable before pressing play on the film.

About thirty minutes later, with all of the popcorn gone, and a mountain of pillows and blankets lying on top of me, as well as surrounding me on all four sides creating a fluffy cocoon, my eyes become heavy. The soft fabrics mixed with the warmth are slowly putting me to sleep. The loud sounds coming from the movie that I am no longer paying attention to slowly fade into the distance.

Just as I am about to fall asleep, I hear a few thuds making their way down the stairs. Slowly I peel my eyes open to see Papa making his way towards me. Like normal, he is dressed in an expensive-looking dark blue suit, a large-faced watch on his left wrist, and a gold chain hanging from his neck.

I try my best to keep my eyes open, but my lack of energy forces them back down. After a few more moments I feel a small dip in the couch, and a large rugged hand moving strands of hair off of my face. "It's only noon kid, how come you're so tired?" he questions. I mumble an 'I don't know' in response.

A soft chuckle makes its way out of my father's lips, and I nuzzle further into the mountain of soft blankets and pillows. "Are you sick?" he asks me in a worried voice, his hand moving up to my forehead to feel if there is any heat radiating off it. "I'm fine, Papa," I tell him.

"Then why are you so tired bambino?" he presses further.

I open my eyes a little to see his concerned face looking back at me. Suddenly a moment of realisation hits him, and his face contorts again. "You haven't been sleeping have you?" he asks, a strict look on his face.

I look away from him. I place my heavy head back on the large pillows, whilst trying my best to keep my eyes open. "I promise I've been trying," I tell him honestly.

He moves his head back, smiling with his eyes, signalling for me to continue. "Every night I go to bed, but I just always end up waking up again, and then I can't fall back asleep," I tell him the half-truth, leaving out the important detail that the reason I am unable to fall back asleep is not that I just can't, but rather that my own wiring thoughts of the past are what keep me awake.

I look back up at him. He still has the same 'I know you have more to tell me' face. But rather than tell him what I know will worry him, I look back up at the large TV, putting my attention back on the movie.

"Hey," he says, moving over to the coffee table and taking a hold of the remote. "I know that face far too well little one." He lifts the remote up and pauses the film. "Come on kid, no secrets."

I let out a large sigh, making my way through the pile of blankets and moving myself up to a sitting position. "I promise I try to sleep." I tell him. "it's just that... every night I end up having a nightmare."