Tragic Freedom

I sat in the treehouse I had built when I was only 10 years old. It took me almost 3 years to make. I filled in my lungs with fresh air and I sighed. The forest was so peaceful. The birds were chirping in the tree tops, their branches leaving spots of sun rays on the grassy floor. This was truly beautiful. Pure, tranquil and my only safe haven from the horror I faced at home. I had tried so hard to get away, but time and time again, the people we put our trust into, to do the right thing, refused to remove the people they call parents, from my life.

This was their fault and although it came at my benefit, people would learn that this is the way of the world.

~~

About an hour ago, I was stuck at home. I took my headphones out of my laptop. Troye Sivan's voice had dissipated and turned into the yelling and screaming of my parent's upstairs.

"Don't you dare to talk me like that" I could imagine steam radiating from my so-called father's distorted face.

There was a thump on the floor.

I tensed. He had hit her...again and I knew that I was next. This was only one of many times, but my mother would never leave him. She couldn't, she was in love with him and she always will be.

My wretched father would drink too much whiskey, Johnny Walker to be exact and for an unknown reason he would break or yell at something. My pathetic mother had learnt to cower away over time, but it didn't matter anyway, it always ended the same.

I remembered the first time it happened. It was one of the many nights he would drink whatever woes he had away, then his wife, actually stood up and said something about it. What a horrible mistake. He screamed at her and strangled her until she had gone blue in the face and passed out. It was like he almost enjoyed it. Then he turned around to his innocent eight-year-old daughter, with blood thirsty eyes. She tried to run, but he snatched her up and threw her against the wall, smashing her skull and breaking her arm in the process.
I woke up in the hospital 24 hours later. He would've, should've, been arrested, but after all, he was a noble Marine who had saved the lives of hundreds doing something that I don't really give a shit about.

"VANESSA!" I heard him roar, pulling me out of the distant memory.

"Crap" I whispered in a panicked tone. I frantically ran into my bedroom cupboard as I heard my father thumping down the wooden stairs. It wasn't much of a hiding place, but it was something. My curly black locks stuck to my dry mouth. As I tried to spit them out, I heard a fist come through my bedroom door. He swung open the door and my chest stopped moving, heart racing a million miles an hour.

"I know you're in here," he said maliciously.

My chest started to burn, heat radiating from my face as I made sure not to let any air escape from me. I felt like I was about to explode.

The cupboard doors swung open and he grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me on to the bed. I kicked him in the stomach and jumped up swiftly before he could throw a punch at my face. He groaned as I sprinted to the front door.

~~

I won't go through all the details. It was pretty gruesome. Not for the light hearted.
All I can say is that it ended with a big BANG! My mother sobbing over my lifeless body, lying on the asphalt just outside of the forest. Black locks sprawled on the floor, crimson blood staining my torso. Blaring sirens of the police and ambulance, with a crowd gasping, surrounding the scene that had unfolded. And the only words my father could spit out as he was forcefully taken away were "I didn't mean to." 

~~

So here I am, sitting in the treehouse I had built when I was only 10 years old. Listening to the birds chirping. Freedom. I had it, finally. Under tragic circumstances sure, but I had finally gained it. It was sick if you think about it, but I don't really mind. I am free.