My chest heaved up and down as my body was shaking with sobs. I was crouched in a corner, behind the bookshelf in the office. I had pushed it aside with wavering hands using what little strength I had left. I couldn't stand to see what was going on in the rest of the hellish household. Tears piled up at the brinks of my eyes and finally spilled and ran down my burning hot cheeks. The contrast felt nice, the salty wetness against the hot, tear-stained mess that was my face.
Was this what happened to every 6 year old? Brought home every day by a frail mother only to be rushed into my room and have my mother repeatedly tell me she loved me? The sweet yet confusing actions followed by her rushing out of the room at the sound of a door slamming. The next day, the seemingly never ending cycle repeated itself.
"Everything's gonna be alright," I kept repeating my mother's words over and over again. But was it?
I heard a man, my infuriated father, shout out words that I didn't even know existed. I mean, I was only 6, should I be growing up like.. This. I buried my face into my hands as I rocked back and forth, trying to comfort myself. The sobs only grew louder as the screams from the other room raised in volume as well.
I brought my palms up to my bloodshot eyes and tried to wipe the tears out. No matter how much I tried, the tears outnumbered the dry spots on my face, leaving me a mess. A loud crash was heard throughout the small house that I had come to hate. Small pieces of glass slid through the opening at the bottom of the door. The shards of glass were clear, almost as if my horrible father hadn't touched them. That was, until I saw a small piece that looked like a dagger. I carefully attempted to pick it up in my hands, closely examining the fresh red liquid that was on the tip.
I may have been young, but I was not stupid. I knew exactly who's blood this was and how it got on the sharp edge. My mom was given this by the terrible man that I called my father. The thought pained me even more, especially in the fact that she has been trying to protect me. I squeezed the fragile piece in my hands, until it finally broke the soft skin on my hands and drew blood, mixing with my mother's.
A shriek filled the air, followed by loud screaming and slurred words. More crashes and sounds of violence rang in my ears as I tried to block them out with my shaking hands. It was no use, they penetrated through the weak barrier and filled my mind with pictures full of evil and hatred.
It brought back memories of when he used to put his hands on me - slapping me every time I did something even remotely wrong. I hugged my legs even tighter, pulling them even closer to my shaking chest. I didn't know what to do.
He was a... monster....
