Her Captor, Her Savior

Origins: Raffe Sloane

My last memory of my father was the fight. It was early in the morning, my mother's stomach starting to show. She was arguing with my dad about something, spewing curses as he yelled back.

"I can't handle this. All the arguing, all the complaining." His arms were waving aggressively, loading his last bag of belongings in the trunk of our car.

"You just want to be with her. I knew there was someone else all along. You cheater! I'm glad you're leaving!"

The moment he drove away, my mother sank to the ground, hopeless and defeated. I watched on, peering from the staircase. My mother never spoke of that day, but I believe she was aware of my witnessing.

Since that moment, my childhood was stripped away from me. My mom soon gave birth to Fiona, my light in the darkness. My mother never recovered from that day, living her life a shell of who she had been. Then, one day, my father stopped sending us money, and my mother became desperate. I was thirteen when she took me out of school and sent me to work instead.

However, that was nothing compared to what happened that one noon, just a small year later. I was walking along the cobblestone street of our small town, Core, dreaming of what freedom would look like. I dreamed my dad would come back to us, that my mom would get better, and that she would resume her duties. But that day never came. My mother had been terribly sick the last few months, and my sister stayed home to care for her. She was only six.

When I walked up our front porch that day, oblivious, the door sprang open to a nightmare. My sister ran to me, tears in her eyes, as she hugged me tight.

"It.. it's mom. She's not moving."

I shoved her off and ran inside, screaming for my mother. "Mom! You can't leave us, too; you can't."

I finally made it up to her bedroom, bracing for the worst. There she lay, almost peaceful. I grabbed her pulse, pushing away tears. Her skin was still warm, her eyes closed, and her chest unmoving. That's when my sister came in, her little arms wiping at her eyes. My mind was clouded by pain, but I felt a shift of responsibility quietly placed on my shoulders. Fiona was all I had left, and I'd never let anything happen to her again. That afternoon, I buried my mother, my sorrow replaced with bitterness and quiet determination.

---

Word spread quickly of my mother's death, and soon, neighbors came to pay their respects. Some of them even offered to take us in. We ended up moving to a new state, as our father had been alerted of our situation. There, we saw the man who had left us to fend for ourselves all those years ago. Everything was his fault. But once again, I buried my feelings for my sister's sake, not wanting to crush her spirits as she went running into my father's embrace.

I felt sick and went back out to unpack, replaying the events of all those years ago. Here he was, with a new family, a large house, and the car he stole from us. He didn't deserve to be happy.

Days passed as we adjusted to our new lives. My interactions with my father were brief until the subject of my education came into play.

"Son. It's been two months now, and I believe you've had enough time to mourn. We have to start thinking about your future and your education."

I bristled at his words, angry that he pretended to care about me. Shame crept in as I reflected on my lack of education. His selfishness is to blame.

He continued, "I've enrolled you back in school, but you'll have to stay a grade behind your peers. I've talked to your teachers about your situation, and they understand, so it shouldn't be too hard to return to normal."

"I can't deal with this right now." My anger threatened to boil, but I thought to myself, 'It isn't worth it.' So, I just walked away. A week later, I was getting ready for my first day of school.