Down The New

Aurora Santos: Turmoil at home

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Chapter 1: Morning Turmoil

The shrill ring of the alarm sliced through the serene silence of the early morning. Aurora Santos groaned, her hand fumbling to silence the blaring noise. The clock read 6:00 AM, but her body felt as though it were still midnight. She forced her eyes open, their usual sparkle dulled by the weight of sleepless nights.

Throwing the covers aside, she stretched her 5’6” frame and planted her feet on the cold wooden floor. “I smell awful,” she muttered, catching a whiff of herself as she staggered toward the bathroom.

The mirror reflected her disheveled state: long, dark hair tangled from restless tossing and turning, and her honey-toned skin slightly pale. She sighed, turning the shower knob to let the warm water cascade down, washing away the grime of exhaustion. Steam filled the small bathroom as Aurora closed her eyes, savoring the fleeting moment of peace.

But peace was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Even over the steady stream of water, muffled voices seeped through the bathroom walls. Her parents were arguing again.

By the time she stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel, the tension in the air was palpable. She hurried to her room, her heart heavy with unease. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a simple sweater, she tried to block out the escalating shouts from the other side of the house.

Then came the sound that made her freeze—a sharp scream.

Aurora’s heart raced as she bolted down the hallway to her parents’ bedroom. Throwing the door open, she was met with a sight that both enraged and devastated her. Her father towered over her mother, his face twisted in anger as he hurled insults.

Her mother, crumpled on the floor, clutched her side where a fresh bruise was forming. “You’re nothing but a burden!” her father spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Why did I ever marry someone so useless?”

“Stop it!” Aurora’s voice cracked as she rushed into the room, placing herself between her father and her mother. Her hands trembled, but her resolve was firm. “What are you doing? Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”

Her father glared at her, his expression dark and unyielding. “Stay out of this, Aurora. This is none of your business!” he barked, shoving her aside as though she were an inconvenience.

Aurora stumbled but steadied herself quickly. Her eyes darted to her mother’s face, swollen and tear-streaked, and her stomach churned. A mixture of rage and helplessness bubbled inside her.

“Grandma!” Aurora yelled, her voice carrying through the house. “Grandma, come quickly!”

Moments later, her grandmother rushed in, her face etched with worry. The sight before her made her stop in her tracks, her eyes narrowing in fury. “Enough, Victor!” she snapped at her son. “What kind of man hurts his own wife like this?”

Her father turned to his mother, his anger momentarily replaced by a flicker of guilt. “She provoked me,” he muttered, but the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

“I don’t care what she did,” Aurora’s grandmother shot back. “You don’t lay a hand on her. Ever. Now, get out of this room before I call the police.”

Victor hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he eventually stormed out, muttering curses under his breath.

Aurora sank to her knees beside her mother, who winced as her daughter touched her shoulder. “Mom,” Aurora whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve done more to stop him.”

Her grandmother knelt beside them, gently dabbing at the cuts and bruises on her daughter-in-law’s face with a wet cloth. “It’s not your fault, Aurora,” she said softly. “This has been going on for too long, but I’ll make sure he pays for this. You just focus on your day, okay?”

Aurora nodded reluctantly, her chest heavy with guilt. She hated leaving her mother like this, but she knew her grandmother would take care of her.

With a sigh, Aurora stood and rushed back upstairs. She grabbed her bag, double-checking that her laptop and journal were inside—her lifelines in a world that often felt overwhelming. Throwing on her coat, she hurried back down, where her grandparents were still tending to her mother.

“I have to go,” Aurora said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her grandmother looked up, her expression softening. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ll be fine here. Just focus on your writing and your work.”

Aurora nodded, her throat tight. “Goodbye, everyone,” she said, though the words felt hollow.

Stepping outside, the crisp morning air greeted her like an old friend, soothing her frayed nerves. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the quiet neighborhood. Aurora paused for a moment, letting the warmth of the sunlight wash over her.

As she walked toward the bus stop, her mind replayed the morning’s events. The chaos, the anger, the helplessness—it all felt like too much to bear. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t let it consume her. She had dreams to chase, a world of her own to create through her writing.

Sliding onto a bench, she pulled out her journal and began to jot down her thoughts. Writing had always been her refuge, a way to make sense of the turmoil in her life. The words flowed freely, capturing her pain, her hope, and her determination to rise above it all.

The bus arrived, and Aurora stepped on, her journal clutched tightly in her hands. As the cityscape blurred past the window, she made a silent vow to herself: one day, she would escape this life. One day, she would find peace.

For now, though, she would keep moving forward, one word, one story, and one breath at a time.