Hit! Smack! After three years I’ve gotten used to my mother’sabuse. She looks at me with utter disgust as if I’m the worst thing she’s everseen. I just stare at her with my usual emotionless mask. Unfortunately thatjust earns me another round of punches. Although I’ve learnt how to deal withthe pain the woman that I’m forced to call my mother gives me.
“You stupid bitch!” she screams.
I ignore her harmful words eventhough I wince on the inside at the amount of venom laced into them.
“It’s all your fault he’s dead!”
Finally she turns to walk away butjust as I let my guard down she punches me hard in the stomach. The hit is sohard it sends me sprawled out onto the floor. She then kicks me one last timein the head and spits in my face before walking away.
I don’t let my guard down thistime until I hear the slam of her bedroom door. I curl up into a tight ball onthe floor and allow a few renegade tears to escape my eyes for a couple ofmoments before picking myself up and dragging my beaten body towards thebathroom. After climbing the stairs I make it to the upstairs bathroom toassess my wounds. As soon as I reach the bathroom I realise it would have justbeen easier to use the downstairs bathroom. I mentally smack myself whileexamining my bruised body.
After all the years of abuse I’velearnt how to check for broken bones. I lift my shirt over my head and feel myright ribs where she kicked me. Sighing in relief when I feel that all my ribsare fine but I will have a nasty purple bruise there in the morning. I check myface next and see that I have a cut lip and my mother’s revolting spit is stillon my cheek. I wash the blood off my lip and spit off my cheek before goinginto my room.
My room is my only safe haven inthis hell hole, my only place of escape. I flop down on my bed and let out adeep relieved sigh. These are probably the least amount of wounds I have everescaped with after my mother’s daily beating. I stare up at my ceiling where I’vestuck glow in the dark stars. They shine brightly in my pitch black room providingthe only source of light. My walls are painted a pale with lilac curtainshanging closed in the single small window in the room.
I’ve always loved the dark; ithas always provided a sense of safety and security for me. Sometimes I feel asif I close my eyes tight enough I can become one with the night. My walls arecovered in the torn remains of what used to be my favourite pictures hanging shreddedon the walls in place where they refused to come off. I only have a dark wooddresser pushed to the left side that is barely filled because I don’t have muchclothes and all of them are long and baggy to hide all of my bumps and bruises.
Exhaling loudly through my nose Iturn over onto my stomach and bury my face deeply into my pillow. For the firsttime today I allow myself to relax. School had been excruciating today with allthe teasing. Plus as soon as I came home I found my mother drinking on thecouch and when she saw my I got my regularbeating. Sometimes I wish I could just have a normal life.
Just as that thought crosses my mindI hear my door gently creak open and standing there is the bane of my existencealso known as the wicked witch or my mother. She’s holding a mug of what looksto be hot chocolate; she used to make it for me when I was littler after I hada bad dream.
“I made you some hot chocolate,”she said quietly as she cautiously stepped into the dark room.
I take it from her extended handand take a careful sip never taking my eyes off from the woman standing infront of me. She shoots me a sickly sweet smile before she quickly leaves theroom. I continue to carefully sip thedrink. Suddenly I see black spots dancing in front of my vision and I startedto feel light headed.
‘What’s going on?’ was my last thought before I passed out.
~Flashback~
"Daddy, I have Lily TheBear!" a four-year-old version of myself called as she clung to therailing of the staircase and made her down the stairs slowly. She was quitepetite and the stairs made her seem even smaller.
Finally, she arrived at thebottom of the grand staircase and stumbled out to the backyard. The patter ofher footsteps echoed eerily through the empty house. Her mother had gone outand she was alone at home with only her father, who had come home from themilitary for a while. The sight that she was met with was something that no oneof such a young age should have to witness.
She stood stock still as her eyestook in her father locked in an iron grip by a mysterious figure. The strangerhad his mouth to her handsome, quick-witted, sparkly-eyed father's neck. Whatis this person doing to Daddy? she thought, wonderingly.
The figure moved away from herfather and she stared at him curiously. He was quite attractive, with dark hairand a lanky but well-muscled body. His eyes were forest green but when sheblinked, they looked a lovely shade of violet. But out of all of his features,it was his mouth she focused on.
His lips and the skin around itwere a deep shade of red. In other circumstances, she would be delighted as redwas her favourite colour, but one glimpse of her father's neck and all she feltat that moment was revulsion and fright. What is he? she questioned herself.
Her father had collapsed on tothe fresh grass of the backyard. His body was limp and unmoving, the sparklinglight in his eyes long gone. She walked steadily towards him and knelt at hisside. She lifted her little hand and pushed the hair back from his face. Out ofher pocket, she tugged a handkerchief which she used to gingerly wipe the blood from her father's neck. Shelowered her head and kissed his cheek, letting the tears drip from her tinyface on to his.
"I love you, Daddy,"she whispered. She dropped her head to his chest- her wavy jet-black hairsplaying out around her head- and inhaled his musky scent. "I loveyou," she repeated, her voice lilting sadly.
"You were the best Daddyanyone could ever ask for. You fought for the greater good and you made me soproud. I'm sure you made Mummy really proud too. I'll never forget you, Daddy.You'll always be in here," she finished, patting the spot over her heart.She was rather wise for a four-year-old.
She kissed his forehead andhugged his already cold body one last time. Then, she turned her eyes on thestranger once more. He stood there, having obviously watched her final goodbyeto her father. His eyes held a glint of regret but it almost instantlydisappeared as his eyes hardened. His mouth was set in a grim line. He allowedhimself one more glance at the younger Alexis sitting like a fragile porcelaindoll on the grass and her deceased father before whipping around and racingaway.
Alex continued to stare at thespot where he had been. She got to her feet and padded over to the spot whereshe had dropped Lily The Bear and daintily picked her up. She looked out intothe distance and that was when she knew- when she realised that she would do anythingin her power to avenge her father. That was when she aged on the insidealthough she was still a very young girl on the outside, and she decided shewould hunt the stranger down and make sure he didn't live to hurt anyone else.She decided to take it upon herself to ensure that nobody ever had to gothrough what she did.
