Emmalyn ⋆。°✩
As i walk through the dark, unfamiliar streets, the rain relentlessly soaks through my clothes, leaving me drenched and filthy.
My eyes are heavy with exhaustion. My head is throbbing, and i truly want is to collapse into Mateo's arms. To feel his comforting embrace and hear his soft, reassuring whispers, but I can't.
I'm terrified to return, terrified of him witnessing this shattered version of me, fearing it will forever alter our relationship.
I don't wanna shut him out; He's everything i crave and need, but fear has consumed me, the fear of his reaction seeing me so broken and hurt.
I haven't slept in days, nor have I found the courage to go home.
I've been crashing on random benches and in parks, praying I don't get kidnapped in my sleep. I want to go home, to see my 'dad' one last time and unleash all the anger and pain I've been bottling up inside.
The tragic irony of having an alcoholic father is that you never really had a father at all.
He was just some alcoholic who happened to be your dad, a man who watched you grow up from the sidelines, clutching his beer bottle as tightly as he should have held you.
He will never change; I know that. Yet, deep down, I sometimes wish for a normal family, a normal teenage life. I wish that instead of being hurt by my own blood, by the man who should've taught me how a male figure should love and treat me, i wish he had loved me.
I finally find the courage to return home, hoping it's the last time.
Living under his oppressive shadow, reduced to nothing more than a slave and a burden, existing only to satisfy his insatiable needs and wants, im sick of this.
I want to live as a real human being, experiencing the highs and lows of life on my own terms, not controlled by him as it has been for the past 17 years.
I get that he's lost his wife, the only person he truly loved and relied on, but i lost my mom.
I lost the sweetest, most caring soul who could never hate me, no matter what mistakes I made. She was the definition of warmth and kindness, her smile brightening even the darkest days.
Her laughter was a soothing melody that filled our home with joy and comfort. She had a unique way of making everyone feel special, with her gentle touch and unwavering support.
My phone battery is dead, and I'm not sure what time it is, but I guess it's around 4 a.m.
The silence of this place frightens me; no cars pass by, and the only sound is the wind rustling.
When I finally reach my house, all the lights are off except for his bedroom. I find the keys hidden under the porch rug and unlock the front door.
I quietly remove my shoes and place them by the door, then rush to my room to change. The warmth of the house is quite relieving compared cold outside, offering me slight comfort as my hands are frozen and shaky. I'm starting to feel sick; I've definitely caught a cold.
As I step into my room, my heart is racing, and my jaw clenches in disbelief.
How could he do this?
YOU ARE READING
Healing Hearts
RomanceEmmalyn Ansley may seem like the epitome of sweetness and humor, but beneath her warm exterior lies a world of pain that no one sees-not even those closest to her. Despite her outward strength and fierce independence, the reality is far more complex...