She screams in pain and I cover my ears. I wonder how she can even scream at all. I know it's wrong to think what I think but I hope he lets out all of his anger on her. Then he won't come for me. I remember when this first started. Right after daddy's fucking angel was born it seemed no one else mattered.
….6 years ago….
He was out late again which was normal now. I was only 10 but I wasn't stupid, I knew the staggering in my father's step and slur of his words meant he was drunk. It also meant you better stay the hell out of his way. To bad mom was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was sitting on the stairs hidden in the dark, away from the drunken eyes of my father. He walked over to her, his body reeking of his personal demon; tonight's choice in dark company had been Wild Turkey. Not good.
"Kilirai, tell me what the fuck is in the sink!?" He growled at her savagely.
Mom, always a warrior, forced a thin smile on her lips in attempts to calm her husband's alcohol induced rage. "Dishes that I haven't gotten around to, but I'll do them right now. Maybe you should go lay down." She said in her soft motherly voice.
"Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm not a moron I know you'll just go back to sittin' on your l-lazy ass as soon as I turn my back!!" He roared at her, almost managing not to slur his words. Then he did something none of us expected; raising his hand high in the air he brought his palm across the side of my mother's face with enough force to knock her to the floor. Amazingly she didn't scream. Instead she got up and with trembling hands she did the dishes; not shedding a single tear.
…6 years later…
There's a silence that draws me out of that horrible memory. A sudden surge of horror hits me; I'm terrified that she's wound up dead in his hands. I get up to race to the phone and dial 9-1-1 when my door opens. Everything inside of me turns cold as my father's image fills the door. He comes in and without reason strikes me down against the bed.
No, my mind screams, not here, he wouldn't in here. My room is conveniently located right next to the neighbor's house where my screams would be heard. His hand clamps over my mouth while the other tears away at my pants. Tears burn my eyes but I hold them back, tears only mean more pain.
A cold rush of air on my lower regions told me he had successfully removed my shorts. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to lose myself in my mind where this never happened but before I could retreat into my subconscious he slammed into me, igniting my tailbone with a familiarly painful burn of intuition. I choke on a scream as he thrusts violently into me. This isn't like him; sure he hurts all the time but never so carelessly, never without torture first. Whatever drink he's been consuming tonight wasn't working in anyone's favor.
I feel my inside start to bleed and I can no longer hold the tears of agony at bay. They drip down my cheeks and stain the pillows as my blood stains the sheets red. I realize a moment after my father backhands me that I've been screaming but now I hold the pained sounds at bay. After he didn't let up I came to the sickening realization that my father was going to kill me. In my own bed. All because I was to dumb to stand up for myself. Because I was too scared to stand up for my mother who was also more likely than not, dead. Black dots smudge the corners of my vision and I silently beg for the black out to come.
I'm close to losing myself to darkness when I hear my door fly open and slam against the wall. "Tselm!!" A voice screams. Thunder claps. A child cries and darkness takes me into it's sweet embrace.
