My Sunflower(Elio Story)

💛🌻Chapter 4: Shadows of Suffering💛🌻

Trigger warning ⚠️: This chapter contains scenes of physical and emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

The next morning greeted me with an oppressive silence that hung in the air like a heavy fog. The ache in my body served as a cruel reminder of the previous night's ordeal. Each movement was a battle against pain, every breath a struggle against the weight of exhaustion. I forced myself out of bed, wincing as I felt the angry bruises on my skin protest.

The house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded the night before. Downstairs, remnants of my father's drunken rampage littered the floor, a testament to his volatile presence. I hesitated at the top of the stairs, steeling myself for what awaited.

In the bathroom, I avoided the mirror, unable to face the reflection of my own brokenness. The bruises on my arms and back throbbed with dull persistence, marking where his fury had landed. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the fear and shame that clung to me like a second skin.

Heading downstairs, the emptiness of the house echoed around me. The smell of stale alcohol lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of what awaited me. With trembling hands, I prepared a meager breakfast, my appetite nonexistent, but the need for strength undeniable. Each bite felt like swallowing ash, but I forced myself to eat, knowing it was all I could do to keep going.

And then I heard it – the heavy, deliberate footsteps on the stairs. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I recognized the sound. My father's voice, thick with anger and alcohol, cut through the silence like a knife.

"Elio," he growled, the menace in his tone unmistakable. "Come here."

I froze, the blood draining from my face. There was no escape, no sanctuary from his wrath. Slowly, I turned to face him in the kitchen, his presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

"You thought you could hide from me," he slurred, advancing with unsteady steps.

I backed away, the kitchen table a futile barrier between us. His grip on my arm was like a vice, bruising even before the punishment began. He dragged me towards the basement door, my heart pounding in my chest.

Inside the basement, the air was thick with the scent of dampness and despair. He pushed me against the cold stone wall, his rage palpable in every movement. The belt was already in his hand, a cruel reminder of what was to come.

The first strike cracked through the air, a searing pain that radiated through my body. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my cries. Blow after blow fell, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

"You worthless piece of garbage," he spat with each strike, his words like poison.

I curled into myself, trying to shield from the relentless assault. Time became a blur of agony and shame, each blow echoing in the darkness. Eventually, he stopped, his breath ragged with exertion. He threw the belt aside callously, leaving me crumpled on the ground.

"Clean yourself up," he sneered, a final insult before he retreated upstairs.

Alone in the suffocating darkness, tears mixed with blood on my face as I lay there, shaken and broken. The pain was a constant companion, every breath a struggle against the weight of despair. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, the stairs groaning ominously as I climbed back to the main floor.

In the bathroom, the cold water offered a brief respite as I washed away the blood and tears. I scrubbed at my skin, trying to cleanse away the shame that clung to me. Dressed once more, I retreated to my room, the silence of the house oppressive in its intensity.

My phone lay on the bedside table, a lifeline to a world beyond these walls. I picked it up tentatively, half-expecting another cruel message. But the screen remained blank, mirroring the emptiness that consumed me. I curled up on the bed, the pain in my back, a relentless reminder of my father's brutality.

Night fell outside, casting long shadows across my room. Alone in the darkness, I stared at the ceiling, his words echoing in my mind like a haunting refrain.