PSSSSHH...
The sound of heavy rain is just another noise in the background as I sprint through it, shoes slamming against soaked pavement, water splashing up my legs like the sky itself is trying to drag me down.
KRAKOOM!!
Even the thunder can't stop me—nothing can. Not my burning lungs, not the ache in my ribs, nor that man.
Tonight was a special occasion that we had promise to be together and celebrated it the most we could get—before that man comes home and ruin everything that is.
The rain pours harder, blurring my vision, but I don't slow down. My lungs scream for air, sharp and desperate, each breath slicing my throat like broken glass. My legs tremble beneath me, muscles begging for mercy.
My lung was desperate for air but I ignore it. My leg was tired. But I also ignore it. I can't afford to waste a single second—not when this moment is so close to me.
Closer.
Just a little more.
Then I saw it.
A single storey rundown building that I called home. Its faded paint peeled like old scars, windows dim and lifeless beneath the storm. I skidded to a stop, nearly slipping on mud, and hastily open the door.
The quiet was almost relieving as that's mean that man is not here.
Chuckle.
'Thank god.'
I almost laugh out loud as this is the best gift that man could ever give me. Smiling widely, I immediately shout, "I'm home!!"
But the quiet remain still like an undisturbed lake—except that lake either hold a silent predator or just unbothered to give a reaction.
Gulp.
I try to remain calm but the unnatural silence were slowly creeping up from my tired leg up to my neck and giving birth to dark whisper in my mind.
'Careful,' the voice said.
I slowly navigate the small living room straight to the kitchen as quiet as possible as if my life depend on it—well, to be fair, maybe it did.
CREAK...
The old wooden door sound as if welcoming—or announcing—my presence in the kitchen. Gritting my teeth, I look around before I caught a shadow move at the edge of my vision.
Turning sharply, I saw nothing.
Then the light suddenly goes out.
"Wha—!!"
Surprise by the sudden darkness, I was shicked to see a candle was lit up, glowing faintly to chase away the invading darkness around the corner.
The flame flickers weakly, fragile against the storm's roar outside.
I try to go towards the source of light before I feel a faint tug on my sleeve and a small smiling silhouette on my right.
In a voice smaller than a whisper the silhouette said, "Surprise!!"
And followed by a different hoarse female voice,"Happy Twelve Birthday, Caelan..."
For a second, the storm vanishes.
I can't help but be pleasantly surprised by their effort in their attempt to surprised me. Smiling brightly, I said, "Thank you, mom, Mia!"
The light from the ceiling switch back on revealing both of them with black hair and matching eyes. Though, their sunken cheeks clearly implicate their malnourished state, this doesn't bother in the slightest as everyone here is in same state -both from hunger and toxic working environment in the industry. Yes,they use childrens and adults as laborers.
Yet to me, they look radiant.
Because they are smiling.
"Come on!! Don't you want to say anything Caelan?" Mia said in her small whisper, rocking slightly on her heels, eyes shining brighter than the candle ever could.
"She's right. Make a wish or something. I heard they always do that in their birthday," my mom joined her, urging me to do that. In her hand, she hold what seems to be like something they call a cake with soft texture and cream on top.
The cake is uneven. The cream poorly spread. One side slightly collapsing.
But it is beautiful.
"Really? I never knew that."
This is the first time we ever celebrated something like this as we never had enough money nor mood to do that because of that man always stole money that mom work so hard for to get to buy his cheap liquor.
Now that man isn't home, we make sure to enjoy this temporary peace and be as happy as we could at this small moment.
Grinning, I said, "I wish we can be happy as we can and hope for this moment to be hold for as long as we exists in this world..."
Even in my ear, I can't help but realized it is nothing more than a wishful thinking of a naive child.
However, seeing the slight smile on both my mother and sister, I didn't regret what I said and blow the weak flame as if to enforce my will upon the world even if it were to be shattered the next second.
For a heartbeat—
The world listens.
Or maybe it laughs.
Because the next second—
The barely holding on wooden door shattered to reveal a demon in the form of a man that we called as father.
The wood explodes inward with a deafening crack. Rainwater from his boots sprays across the floor. Cold wind floods the room, snuffing out the warmth that barely existed.
Holding a bottle of alcohol in each hand, he gaze at the cake and barked,
"Woman!! Where the fuck did you get the courage to use my money on that shit!?"
His eyes are bloodshot, veins crawling across the whites like parasites. His breath reeks even from where I stand.
To quell his rage from I guess losing in a gamble like he always did, he continue to howl,
"You fucking dare to use my money!! Hiccup, you bitch!! hiccup—"
His gaze falls on the cake.
On the candle
On me.
Something ugly twists his face.
Slowly, deliberately, he drops one bottle.
It doesn't break.
But the message does.
Mom steps slightly in front of us. Not fully. Just enough.
"It's just a small—"
The back of his hand swings before she finishes.
The sound echoes louder than thunder.
Mia gasps.
I don't.
I can't.
Because something inside me freezes.
The room feels smaller.
The air heavier.
The candle smoke still lingers in the air, thin and fading, like the wish I made seconds ago.
He staggers forward, kicking the small table. The cake falls.
Cream smears across the dirty floor.
"Celebrating?!" he laughs harshly. "With what money?! Mine?!"
His boots step over the fallen cake.
Crushing it.
Something in my chest tightens like a thin branch on the edge of snapping.
Not fear.
Not sadness.
Something else.
Mom quickly kneels, shielding Mia behind her. "It was my savings," she says softly, voice trembling but steady. "Not yours."
He snarls.
He hates when she speaks back.
The rain outside grows louder, as if trying to drown the scene inside.
I feel my hands shaking. I look at the crushed cake. At Mia's small fists clenched tightly. At Mom's swollen cheek already turning red.
Something is wrong.
Not just with him.
With the world.
Why does someone like him get to decide whether we are allowed to smile?
Why does strength belong to monsters?
He raises his hand again.
And in that instant my small frame were suddenly in his hand and before I knew it, I was crumpled on the floor whriting in pain.
Both my cheeks were burning with hot pain and air knocked out from a strong blow on my stomach.
Gulp gulp gulp... Barp.... Ahhh
That man drink the whole bottle in one shot making him more drunken than he already did. Swaying as he walk, he staggers towards Mia, towering her small body before delivering a sharp kick towards her jaw.
The thud echoes sickeningly against the walls.
"KYAHH!!" Short scream erupt from her as the blow connected again and again.Each strike duller than the last.
"Stop.. please. Please stop" I crawl towards him as my broken ribs doesn't allow me stand. But of course, the storm don't stop just because you tell them to. But for the sake of her, I did it anyway.
Mia's scream had long since died leaving small whimper from her.
Those small broken sounds stab deeper than any punch.
Unable to stay silent any longer, my mom launch her petite body towards my father towering form before crashing on kitchen counter.
"MOTHERFUKER! STOP BOTHERING ME!!" He screamed before getting atop of her to deliver punches on her face.
Dum
Dum Dum
Dum Dum Dum
The rhythm becomes mechanical.
Emotionless.
Like he is hammering meat, not a person.
SNAP
Seeing the scene, something inside me finally cracked and snap allowing something that I had surpass for years to break free from the prison inside my heart and mind.
I slowly felt my grip on my own body losing to give space for 'him' to take control.
The pain fades.
Not because it disappears—But because something else replaces it.
Cold.
On my last grip, I whispered, " Do what you must... "