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Nothing to fill the void in my chest.
My throat is on fire, and the memories surround me.
His heavy frame hovered over her fragile body while her eyes struggled to stay open.
“You were perfect once, but now you’re a whore.” He continued to mumble, most of his words incoherent, his own body exhausted, heaving from the punishment he’d served.
Mama moaned as she tried to pull herself up, the air leaving her lungs sounded painful. He held her carefully, like those same hands didn’t just leave her bloody and bruised.
It’s over now. He’s had his fill. He’ll calm down. They’ll be better tomorrow.
Mama propped herself up on her elbows, her head bobbing back and forth. A loud inhale echoed around the room, wheezing in her chest, and her golden orbs set into a hard, determined gaze.
“Don’t say it, Mama,” I whispered, but they didn’t hear me from where I was standing at the end of the stairs, my body almost curling into the wallpaper.
Her lips came close to his, so close I’m sure he could taste the copper from the blood running freely from her lips.
“If I’m anyone’s whore, I’m his. Amy already despises you. I’m taking Claire with me. Away from you. You’re a pathetic excuse for a man.”
My heart dropped into the lowest part of my stomach; a lump so thick in my throat I thought I’d choke on it.
I couldn’t see his face because his back was to me, but I could imagine his raging glare, his shaking hands, his inability to swallow his anger.
I wished Amy was there.
She’d know what to do.
He raised his fist in the air, the tension along his arm making the veins protrude.
He’s going to kill you, Mama.
I couldn’t lose her. Not more of her.
So, I did the only thing I could think of. I swallowed the lump away, resolve settling in my blood. I closed my eyes, I opened my mouth, and I screamed.
I screamed until my throat burned. Until my eyes stung. Until the air in my lungs ran out.
I screamed until an iron hold wrapped around my neck, squeezing the scream out of my mouth until it was nothing more than a whimper.
My head crashed against the wall. Something thick and warm flowing down the back of my neck.
My eyes shot open, bloodshot and heavy from tears that wouldn’t fall.
“Papa,” I tried to say, but I only made a silent motion with my lips.
“You need to stop screaming, baby girl. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you. Me and Mama are going to sort it out.”
But Mama was sleeping on the floor.
“Papa,” I tried to beg, my weak hands beating and scraping his arms, desperate for him to let go. “Please, Papa.”
I couldn’t feel the floor.
I needed air.
I couldn’t breathe.
But Mama was safe.
