Halo
Preface
I sat in my car breathing deeply.
It was inky black outside; I was unable to see the happy perfect homes that lined the perfect street, strips of golden light streaming from gaps in the curtains could only be visible.
It was going on to midnight; I had worked late like I do every Wednesday at the local book shop. It had been a huge relief when I got this job as for a few hours a week I could pretended I was normal, that my life was normal.
The house was still, meaning he had done his bad deed for the night and should be hopefully passed out on the couch. I turned the ignition of leaving an eerie silence, before queitly slipping out, walking quickly towards the door. I slid the key in to the lock edging it round until I heard a faint click before I slipped in silently pushing the door closed.
The house was lost in darkness the faint clracks and groans of the old house the only thing to be heard.
The house reeked of alcohol as I proceed silently down the hall.
I peered into the kitchen; the moon light bathed the shattered plates which littered the floor. My stomach clenched and my heart rate quickened at the thought of what could have happened.
That was the one thing which I hated about not being here, I couldn't protect my mother, beg her to leave as she wept in my arms.
Sometimes after Phil would hit and abused her and she lay sobbing on the bed with only me to comfort her, I would hate her.
I would hate her because she was letting this happen.
Once when I was 10 I had broken the lampshade, completely by accident Phil had grabbed a chunk full of my hair, and dragged me to the cupboard and locked me inside, he kept screaming at me it was for my own good, that his father had done this to him to teach him a lesson.
I screamed and begged my mother to tell him to stop, punish me any other way, but all she did was stand there and stare, no emotion, it was as if she was cutting herself of from the world only never to return.
The cupboard become one of Phil's favourite punishing techniques. It was only 1 meter and a half wide and had a width of 60 centimetres.
Once the door was locked no light could break through. The first time I was shut in I screamed and shouted, my breathing become tighter and deeper I blacked out only to wake up slumped in an uncomfortable position in the same darkness.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself from that traumatising memory. I placed my bag by the stairs stoping my self from gagging form the stale smell of beer.
Phil was passed out on the sofa. His heavy breathing lost in the empty room.
I stood there watching his chest rise and fall, pure hatred was the only thing I could muster up for him.
He was supposed to be a father to me, a husband for my mum, but all he was, was a pitiful drunk. I turned my back to him and ascended the stairs.
Mums and phil's door was the first thing I passed.
I lingered out side debating on whether I should go and see if she was alright. I pressed my ear to the door and stopped breathing for a second. Her faint sobs could be heard as she cried herself to sleep, probably nursing a black eye and a new scar.
I Heisted deciding against going in, I didn't have the energy anymore. Seeing her, half the women I knew broke my heart, she was my mother and I loved her but she deserved better then this, we both did.
However this thought was beginning to seem strained and wrong.
Maybe we did disserve this, Phil had drummed in to us countless of times how worthless we were, maybe he was right.
I hung my head in defeat as I shuffled to my room, closing the door securely behind before I collapsed on the bed. Falling in to a disturbed dream full of hatred