White Knight [Editing]

Prologue.

As I sat upstairs in my pink bedroom, doodling in my notebook, I heard the cries of my mother's voice. I already knew what was happening. I'm not surprised. It's just another day in my house.

Between her cries and the sound of my father's hand connecting with her skin, it was getting hard to ignore. Sometimes I wish I could do more for my mother, but it would just divert my father's target.

I opened my door and saw my two younger sisters standing there. "Toni, we're scared," my middle sister, Monroe, said with tears streaming down her face. I took our baby sister, Jet, out her hands and pulled Monroe inside my room.

I tend to comfort them a lot these days. The beatings weren't always so frequent and so brutal. Before my sister, Monroe, was born, my father had never laid his hand on my mother. We were a happy family. Then Monroe came into the picture and it started. By the time Jet came, it became an every day occurrence.

"It'll be okay, guys. Mommy wasn't listening to Daddy, that's why he hits her. Next time, she'll listen and they'll be happy. Us, too," I said as I tended to my four-year and two-year old sister.

I'm only 11.

My mother doesn't care much for us. She works very hard at making sure my father is taken care of and that all his needs are met. For us, she buys food and sometimes clothes, but for the most part, I'm the mother figure for my sisters. As much as an eleven year old can be a mother figure. I'd always change the diapers, make the bottles, dress them, and currently, potty training, too.

The crying stopped downstairs, as did the hitting.

"Toni. What happen to Mama?" Monroe asked.

We never really heard complete silence after one of my father's lashings. My father would start to cuss up a storm, and my mother would whimper and beg. Silence on both ends is strange.

But, nothing. Pure silence.

I peeked outside my room door after telling Monroe to stay in my room with Jet. The last thing I wanted to do was make noise in the middle of this. I crept down the stairs silently so father couldn't hear me.

He gets upset when we are downstairs.

The stairs end right in front of our guest room, which had a walk through bathroom that connects to the living room. I carefully squeezed the bathroom doorknob and quietly pulled the door open.

I couldn't believe my eyes. My heart immediately started to race.

I looked down upon my now lifeless mother.

I felt a tear escape my eye and trailed down my face. I stared into her dark eyes and felt sick to my stomach. How could he? Why would he? Will I ever know why he's like this?

She gasped for air, frightening me. Her eyes darted to various spots in the living room before they hit me through the narrow of the door. It was like she needed to see me before she departed. She immediately whispered to me,

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you."

I knew what was to come. I knew she'd want to say goodbye to Monroe and Jet, too. Although she was a horrible mother figure, I need felt like she didn't love us. She didn't understand how to. Like myself , she knew exactly what was about to happen. My father, gun in hand, walked past the bathroom door, thankfully not noticing me.

"In the next life, you'll know to listen when you belong to someone, " he said before he stood before her and held the gun over my mother.

It was then... I lost mother.

I couldn't break down in that spot. I quietly closed the door back and made my way back up stairs to my room.

I closed my door and locked it, and cuddled with my younger sisters in my bed. From now on, it was just us. I, now, have to take care of myself and my sisters.

Happy birthday to me.

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Thoughts?

♥