Your Shadow Is My Light

Chapter 20 - What are you doing in human skin?

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Rayne's POV
"FUCKING WENCH-YOU BITCHES DARE TO LOOK DOWN ON ME?! YOU MUST BE IN OVER YOUR HEAD! I WILL TEACH YOU TO TALK BACK!"

A glass bottle swung down on my head, each frame played out like the reel of a horror film. Over and over again. I don't know how many times I've experienced this same sequence of events. Yet, there's nothing I could do. I was trapped in the confines of my youth. Haplessly staring up at the rapidly descending beer bottle. Knowing full well the consequences that would entail if that bloody thing landed on my eye-disfigurement, blindness, and worst of all, the despair that would forever haunt my conscience. There's no end to this cycle. I knew it in my gut. But there's little I could do to thwart this bleak outcome. Merely stand there foolishly like a statue. My younger self was completely scared stiff by the monstrosity that had terrorised my mother and I for as long as I could remember.

BANG!

Glass shattered on my forehead. Glittery fragments scattered everywhere, some flying into my right eye. Jagged shards minced into flesh. Vessels burst as crimson liquid flowed. Blood-curdling screams echoed in the cramped rental apartment. I was bawling out tears and blood, staggering backwards while cradling my tender right eye. Stinging burns ignited, numbing huge patches of my face. Each blink only served to aggravate the sensitive wound. Splinters churned against my eyelid, scraping away parts of my cornea. Warm liquid smeared on my clammy palms. I couldn't see anything but red.

My pathetic cries successfully riled up my soft-spoken mother. It sparked her fuse. It broke her mind. In a split second, she scrambled up from the floor. Unprecedented wrath coloured her livid expression. You couldn't see a hint of the usual fear. Only hatred. My stupid sperm donor had crossed her bottom line-hurting her beloved daughter that she cherished even more than life.

Disregarding the blue-black bruises on her supple cheeks, she gave her nominal husband a vicious smack across the face. An action that's long overdue. Reality could be so ironic at times. When I badgered my docile mother to retaliate against our abusers, she was too afraid to even voice out her grievances. But when it came to bullying her arguably more useless daughter, it was enough to incite defiance in her. Maybe I should've let that man wallop me more. Like this, Mom could let go of any unnecessary forbearance and give him a piece of her mind.

Even if genetics designed a woman to be inherently weaker than a potbellied scum, Mom's strength was by no means frail. Years of toiling in manual labour and housework had toned her muscles. Particularly her arms. So much so that this one bitch slap had that deplorable strut spinning one full circle before crashing to the floor. More cusses shrieked into the eerie silence. Though all of it went unheard by the steely-eyed woman. Instead, she bolted to my side, kneeling down to swathe me in a warm embrace. Meanwhile, all I could do was whimper, squeezing my face into her shoulder for comfort. I was in so much pain. Unable to do anything but let out nasally sobs.

"Shhh. It's okay, baby," she hushed, calloused hands brushing my hair, "look at Mommy."

She tried tilting my chin but I refused to let her see my dishevelled appearance. Merely buried my face deeper into her neck. Even at a young age, I knew what I looked like now-a hideous cyclops with mucus dripping down my orifices. Those accursed pieces of glass must have marred me with scratches and nicks. As unsightly as the pigheaded creature currently crawling to his feet while cursing under his breath.

She won't find me pretty anymore...

"HOW DARE YOU WHORE-THAT'S IT! I'M KILLING ALL OF YOU TODAY!!!"

That psycho went ballistic, spewing faeces between every other syllabus. While throwing an infantile fit, he charged at us, greasy hands flailing everywhere. Mom hurriedly pushed me aside before engaging in a violent scuffle with that bulldozing drunkard. She was not to be outdone by this uncultured swine. When that man pressed her on the floor and grappled her beautiful raven locks, my mother ruthlessly punted his manhood. An outraged squeal of modesty and his limbs went jelly. That sorry lump of meat must have shrivelled out of existence. Just like his guts. He only ever went berserk around people who couldn't dislocate his jaw for his unreasonable tantrums.