her. (milklove) {ENG}

Chapter 4

Hey you - reading this. This chapter will contain description of emotional and physical abuse by a parent in form of a flashback (ptsd) - if you do not feel in a safe headspace to read this or could be triggered by it please skip the text in italics; this is an explicit trigger warning! Mental health comes first. Love to wherever you are.
Nadine

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Screams echoed through the living room of a two-story house, a home owned by none other than the Pattranite family. It didn't matter how educated, wealthy, or popular someone was—an abuser was still an abuser. Nothing could ever change that.

Melody stood trapped in the middle. On one side was her father, on the other, her mother. Both were shouting, hurling venomous words at each other while Melody desperately tried to keep them apart. All she wanted was for her family to feel whole, to be at peace. But reality hit her like a bucket of ice water—her parents had never loved each other.

Forced into marriage by their respective families, their "love"—or lack thereof—never stood a chance. They had hoped, even convinced themselves, that having a child would fill the void, bring light to their bleak world. But such a heavy burden was impossible for anyone to bear, least of all a child.

As Melody grew older, the violence escalated. It began with insults and emotional abuse, sharp digs exchanged between her parents. Over time, they turned their anger toward her, blaming her for their unhappiness. Each year brought more chaos to the household. Her father, a chronic alcoholic, grew more terrifying and aggressive with every drink.

One night, Melody reached her breaking point. All she wanted was to protect her mother. When her father raised a hand, Melody stepped in, shoving him as hard as she could. But the man was nearly 190 centimeters tall, towering over her slight frame. She couldn't stop him, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.

The latest fight was over money. Melody's father had been fired for showing up drunk to work, leaving the family in financial ruin. Bills piled up, and the threat of eviction loomed like a storm cloud.

"I told you over and over—stop drinking! But you never listen!" Melody's mother yelled at her husband. He sat slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV, a beer bottle dangling lazily in his hand.

He let out a loud sigh. "Maybe if you didn't nag me all the time, I wouldn't need to drink," he retorted, his tone dismissive yet dripping with blame.

Her voice rose, laced with desperation. "What are we supposed to do now? Huh? Do you even have a plan? What about our daughter? She's supposed to go to university soon, and now we can't pay for it. This is your fault. Fix it!"

"Stop talking, or else..." Her husband's voice turned cold, the thinly veiled threat clear in his tone.

"Oh, what's next? You're going to hit me again?" Her mother's words were sharp, filled with defiance. "You're a weak excuse for a man. A stupid boy who never grew up. Your father would be ashamed of you."

That was the breaking point. He rose from the couch, rage flashing in his eyes, and struck her across the face.

From her room, Melody heard the unmistakable sound of the slap. She had tried to ignore the argument, hoping—praying—that it would end. But this was too much. Her body trembled with rage as she stormed into the living room, pushing her father away from her mother with all the strength she could muster.

Caught off guard, he stumbled back, stunned. But the surprise quickly turned to fury. "You spoiled brat... How dare you?" he roared, lunging toward her. His hand connected with her face, leaving a sharp, stinging pain that spread across her cheek.