"James, you're back." My mom smiled a sweetly smile she could ever muster. My dad was keen on seeing that she smiled, to be on the best behaviour she or we could possibly be.
"What did the child say?" He said, his brown eyes looking bored. He ruffled his blond, almost white hair, and placed the car keys on the usual table.
My mom walked to him with arms folded. All signs of grace disappeared as her movements were now stiff and surprised. "Nothing dear-"
"You will answer me!" He raised his arm, his palm wide ready.
"Dad!"
His head snapped to me at its own record, was sure it would break at that speed but it remained. His figured stalked towards my trembling self. His walking stick thumped heavily on the creaky floor boards. He raised the stick high up, as it swelled with pride with marks on its body. Definitely, one would take great observation that those were not some kind of intricate design, but it was of my blood that stained its white marble.
The years of my abuse present on a stick the size thinner than the broom stick at the corner of the kitchen. Those were my shame that he so gladly to show the world of.
"I will not tolerate with your manners no longer." His words coursing through my veins. He then instructed my mom to go start dinner as he said he had to attend some more important business.
"Dad, please. You can't, can't do this... Just last night you.." I whispered, more like begged actually. It was enough to make me stutter. This made my eyes bigger than usual to pair with my pleads. Hands shaking, I started to whimper.
And well, we all know what happens next.
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"NO! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
I awoke on the floor of my room. I saw that my arms still lingered in the air, as it swayed gently. I tucked them back into the covers and laid there for a while. I could feel the stinging pain from my nightmare, it was horrible. Maybe even worse than today's afternoon.
My back ached and the hard floor wasn't helping. I felt hot, thick liquid plastered my body to my shirt. I guess the bandage didn't last long as intended but surely, it was longer than last night. I'll get a fresh one tomorrow. He beat me up bad earlier, so much that he entered my realm of dreams. My stomach rumbbled, no food for a week he says. I clutched my tummy, it was hurting badly out of hunger.
My room was exceptionally bare, to some, of course. Just a small space like a small closet for the rich. Walls are painted a ghostly white, I could see some paint had already chipped off. I sleep on the floor on the corner on the right, next to my window. With just a set of pillows and quilt, I was quite content. Across me was the door, not the usual one though. The one that was on the floor, almost as if like a trap door and would need a ladder to get up in here. You see, I live in the attic. Next to the door is a mirror, a covered one. A white sheet over the thing, outlined its big majestic frame and I had never pulled it over though, my dad said not to do so.
But tonight, it was freezing and the heavy sheet that covered it looked awfully tempting. Maybe, just for one night. It won't hurt nobody.
I toss over my quilt and walked towards the mirror. I grabbed hold of the hem of the sheet and without thinking, gave it a powerful tug. As I did this, the sheet fell gracefully to my feet but the mirror was wobbling side to side. I hurriedly hugged its towering self to keep it steady. Once it could manage on its own, I let go.
I didn't think much after that. I went straight back to my corner which is just four steps away. I covered my shivering body with both sheets. Why didn't I do this years ago? It would have spared me the possible frostbite, plus, it was very comfortable. That night, I was amazed of how I could sleep so easily. It felt nice for once.
But then I heard something.
It kinda sounds like it came from behind the window. I couldn't exactly make out what it is because I'm slipping away to a peaceful slumber. Just that, it was in a series of ryhthems. It was starting to annoy me but I just brushed it off. As my eyes began to flutter shut, I heard it. It sounded clear as crystal.
Three taps.
Tap
Tap
Tap.
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YOU ARE READING
The Phantom Shard
Teen Fiction"He can make hell feel like home." Claire Blaine was told of another world where it will be filled with darkness and constant plummeting of temperature. She didn't believed that of course, with the abused life she lived for years, she was sure there...
