Arabella D'Angelo is just a shell of a girl, a mere presence floating through the halls of her Los Angeles home. Her once bright grey eyes and sunshine-like spirit was crushed by the weight of her abusive parents.
Living in a constant state of fear...
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I remained lying within the thick duvet of my bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. The room was silent, except for the soft ticking of the clock on her wall. But the quietude only made my heart beat faster, an odd feeling of anxiousness sticking to my nerves.
The bothersome thoughts were loud in my mind, like an endless storm that wouldn't stop. I pulled the blankets up to my chin, trying to cover myself as if the covers could shield her from the dread swirling in her chest.
Turning on my side and squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I exhaled sharply. Just sleep, just sleep. But the words didn't help. Instead, they made the panic rise even higher. The darkness surrounding me felt too heavy, like it was pressing in, making it hard to breathe.
Every small noise - the creak of the floorboards, the rustle of the curtains - sent a jolt through my body. My hands were cold and clammy, fingers trembling when I gripped the edge of the bed and pulled myself up against the plush headboard.
No matter how much I tried to think of something, anything other than the fragments of the awful nightmare I just woke up from, all of it just came spiralling back to one point. The events and occurrences of last week had pressed a deep nail of doubt and anxiety, constantly weary of my surroundings.
The sound of gunshots, all of our screams echoing in the car as it sprung out of control and slammed into a tree, that man holding a knife in his hand - the last one made my skin prickle with goosebumps, a sense of dread washing over me in waves.
Who was that man? Why would anyone attempt to attack us like that? Why did my brothers seem to normalise the situation so much? Why was a gun in the vicinity of Ezekiel?
The questions only made me feel more troubled and anxious, uncertain if I even wanted to know of the answer of some of them. It has been more than a week since all that happened, yet the remnants of that accidents still didn't seem to leave.
My brothers really tried everything in their power to lighten up the atmosphere in the house all the time, never once bringing up that certain topic. It is almost like they want to forget about it, which is the best thing to do, but I still couldn't make up my mind with it.
Their every words, actions, behaviour had me questioning their genuineness now. Although I don't want to believe it so soon, a small part of me has started to doubt them. About what, I don't know, because I can't exactly pinpoint it specifically. Whether it is about their job description, source of wealth or the absence of our father, everything seems like a blur which they seem to avoid like a plague.
My heavy eyelids drooped, catching a sight of the glowing clock on the nightstand. 3:00. It was freaking three in the morning and here I was, doubting and questioning my whole life.
Why can't I just sleep? The thought bounced around in my head like a broken record, making everything feel more frustrating. I shifted again, my body tangled in the sheets, and pushed my face into the pillow, as if trying to block out the thoughts. But the pillow didn't help. It only made me feel more trapped, the unanswered questions still circling in my mind.
