Luna

Chapter 3

Crash!

I wake up from the small bed with a startle and Emily sits up and looks at me with pure terror on her face – in her eyes. I open my arms, and she comes in for a cuddle. She rests her head on my chest and I hold her tight with one hand as I stroke her hair with the other.

"Hope?" she whispers.

"It's okay princess," I say as I lay my chin on her head.

My heart is pounding in my chest, a pure contradiction to what I just told Em. She can hear it thump, but she doesn't comment.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing, Dave will take care of it," I say as convincingly as I can.

My thoughts are racing as I stroke her hair. I need her to fall asleep as quickly as possible. It's rare for Dave to cause such a racket, so I know something's wrong. I begin to hum her favourite song from Frozen quietly, and continue the soft comforting gestures for what feels like an eternity. After a while, she loosens her grip from my shirt which she was clinging onto, as if for dear life.

She is calm now. Her previously ragged breathing has steadied. Her sweet face no longer resembles the terror from before, but the innocence of a child dreaming of what I love to believe are butterflies and dolphins.

Wrapped up in watching her, I hadn't realized the noise from downstairs had stopped. The silence is deafening. Way too deafening. My heart sinks in my chest, and my head begins to spin. I slip out of bed slowly so as not to wake Em up, and make my way to the door. Before leaving the room, I take a quick glance at the bed, ensuring she's still asleep. Then, when I finally step out of the bedroom, I gasp.

Before I can even register what's going on, he slaps me hard on the cheek with the back of his hand and shoves me violently into the hallway, where I lose my footing and fall face down. I hear his ragged breathing as he marches in my direction.

My reactions are slow as my brain attempts to catch up with current events, but its attempts are futile. My hand gently clasps my burning cheek when I'm suddenly gasping for air. Then, my body automatically moves into fetal position as one hand clutches my stomach and the other protects my head from further attacks. It's only when I'm being dragged to my feet and halfway down the stairs that realization strikes. I've been kicked several times in the torso.

"Stop," I beg. "Please... stop."

My pleading falls onto deaf ears. Instead, his grip tightens around my arm and his pace increases. When we get into the kitchen, he pushes me in the direction of the bar stools by the kitchen island, and silently orders me to take a seat. I obey immediately, and watch as he makes his way to the refrigerator. His emotions are hard to read. I sense anger, but I cannot seem to measure its depth.

Is this the day I die? I'm not sure. I don't know what angered him in the first place. I usually have an inkling of an idea, but in this very moment, I'm lost. He grabs a packet of frozen peas from the freezer and tosses them onto the island. Then, he starts pacing back and forth agitatedly, hands clenched into fists.

"When were you planning on leaving?" he asks through clenched teeth.

"W – what?"

Within a flash, he turns and marches in my direction, stopping a few inches away. His hands suddenly slam hard onto the counter, a murderous glare piercing through me.

"Don't take me for a fool," he snarls and realization sets in. It feels like someone has just poured a bucket of ice water down my back, and I blink at him in surprise. How did he find out?