Once Upon A Mission

Chapter One - Escape

Moisture filled my stinging eyes as I let out quiet sobs. I looked at my scar etched body clenching my jaw tightly to prevent any more sound from escaping my trembling lips.

My mother had come home intoxicated and hurt me, again.

I thought it was going to be different today, for it is my sixteenth birthday tomorrow. But why should I expect anything? My past birthdays didn't stop her. It was a foolish idea to think that my sixteenth would be different.
Forcing myself up, grunting slightly from the aching pain my body was reacting to, I sat down my bed.

I hugged my knees to my chest. When will I escape this? I thought.

How will I escape this misery where the person that I should look up to, the person who should be my hero, the person who should be my confidence booster... is the one inflicting me pain. Both physically and emotionally.

But the worst part is, it wasn't always this way. We were once an average, happy family. But, my father's death had cut it all short.

He died saving me from the impact of a truck. We were at the side walk, eating ice cream as we talked and laughed. Then I heard the screeching of tires against the surface of the road and it swooped across the side walk. It all happened so fast that I wasn't able to move my feet. But my father was, he pushed me away from the impact and attempted to run away too. But instead, all the impact landed on him.

It was all a blur to me, yet I remembered everything. As if everything was in slow motion, the only thing I can remember through clear vision was my mother's horrified expression and multiple car horns.

After dad's funeral, my mother fell depressed and grew to become an alcoholic that came home every night and caused me pain while she stabbed me with painful words of blame.

I was only thirteen when the abuse started along with my father's death.

If I was completely honest with myself throughout all of the times my mom had caused me pain, I knew I could fight back. My father trained me to master self defence and being a fast learner, I grew brave and expirienced.

But the first time my mother hurt me, I thought it was just the alcohol's fault and forgave her.

Then it happened again and again and again. It happened so many times, I couldn't keep track.

But I still didn't fight back. Because deep within, I always had that spark of hope in my heart that maybe, just maybe she'd change. She's still my mother after all, right?

But when I turned fifteen, I gave up all those naïve thoughts and erased them from my mind.

'Till now, I still had all the lessons I had with my father remained stamped in memory. My strength and agility were still intact. Yet, I still didn't fight back.

I guess, with every single time I've endured everything she's done... maybe she had convinced me.

Convinced me that it was all my fault. Convinced me that I deserved the pain she has inflicted. Convinced me that I was nothing.

I shook my head, a trial of clearing my mind from the morbid thoughts. I started stripping off of my clothes and proceeded to the bathroom to take a shower in order to cleanse all my wounds.

Once I was done, I glanced at the digital clock placed on my bed side as dried my hair. I watched the numbers turn to midnight, a sudden wave of realisation hit me - telling me that I just turned sixteen.

After getting dressed, I slumped down my bed. Tears blurred my vision and I let them slide down my cheeks freely as I closed my eyes. I smiled sadly, whispering a wish.

I opened my eyes revealing it hadn't come true. I heaved a sigh. Another silly thing of me to think of. Resting my head down my pillow, I wiped my tears away.

Letting out yawn, I tried keeping the thoughts forbidden to my mind again.

But that night when I fell into a deep slumber, despite the loss of hope. I dreamt about what I wished for... That I could escape this.