An Angel's Miracle

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The scream tore from my throat, the long gush from my attempt of prying the window open just kept on bleeding and I could hear my blood pounding through my ears. Aside from the pain radiating from my hand, I was numb and scared. I never felt this scared before in my entire life and that was saying something.

I knew that the rest of the nights of my life would never be the same again, if by chance I could survive this. The malice and rage from his eyes were enough to make me wet my pants from fear. My eyes sought my mother's but her eyes were glazed and I doubt she even knew what was about to happen to me. She looked so thin and frail, her skin was clammy and translucent she looked like the dead, compared to the stinky beefy man before me.

"You're trying to escape." He said and I backed farther away from him. 'This is not happening.' I repeated in my head as I tried to gain distance as far as I could get away from that stinky man. But my futile attempts were nothing compared to his stronger grip on my arm. I felt my blood draining from my head and I felt nauseated and dizzy. He lowered his head to my level and whispered his breath smelled like garlic and rotten meat. I knew I'd puke so I turned my head on the side but his hand grabbed me by the chin and he brought my face closer to him. I gagged. He sneered at me and then the next thing I knew, the back of his hand connected on my cheek.

Pak!

It was painful and I tasted that oh so familiar metallic taste in my mouth.

"Mom!" I screamed as I struggled to get away from him, but my attempts made him laugh. He loved it rough, he always told me. He loved violence and he loved seeing me crying so I tried my best not to let my tears fall.

"Your mom prob'ly can't hear ya, Phyllie, but I love hearin' you scream." A sob started to bubble from my throat but I clamped my mouth together to suppress it. Why do people cry? It would be better if I just couldn't feel anything.

He was impatient, he had always been.

"Susan, you wanna get naked with ya daughter here?" He asked and my skin crawled. My eyes darted to my inebriated mother but she was smiling shyly at him. Why was she like that? Why couldn't she be like any normal mothers that kept on nagging their daughters about curfews, sex and boyfriends? What would it be like if my mother cooked breakfast for me, nagged me to accompany her to salons or maybe fish for details about my dates?

"Honey, I better not. My Phyllie here don't like it when she sees us having sex." My mother said but she draped her skinny bones in his neck, making him drop his vice grip on me and they started to eat each other's faces.

Animals!

I wanted to scream but my throat wouldn't work, instead, I saw it as an opportunity to ran away. So without taking my duffel that would just slow me down, I darted towards the ajar door of my room. I would get out of this pit hole. I promised myself that, at least I owed myself that freedom.

They broke apart; I knew that because I heard his enraged boom and my mother's pained scream. He must have struck her, or worse he must have punched her. My feet weighed like tons of bricks and it pounded on the wooden floor of our stairs as loud as my heart pounded inside my chest. All I could see was that door across the room where I could finally be free.