Chapter 2

It’s late at night, everyone has gone to bed, but dad isn’t back yet. My mom was still awake, waiting for him to come so she could prepare him dinner.

I fling on my bed. I was trying to meditate. I don’t know when I doze off.

Now I’m waken by dad’s uproarious noise I could hear someone hitting something. "What’s happening? I hope this man is not hitting Mom." I muster to myself as the sound continues to disrupt me.

I stood up to know what it was I was hearing as I got to my door. I quietly opened it because I was afraid to see that my dad was hitting my mom. I couldn’t bear to see him beating my mom.

"Stupid woman, what do you how to do you and that your daughter is good for nothing," he yelled at her and hit her wooden chair on her head. She fell down unconsciously. I opened the door with so many tears in my eyes. I cast him a furious gaze. He is totally drunk.

I approached my unconscious mother, watching her as she lay helplessly on the floor, blood streaming from her mouth, bruises on her head. I couldn't help but cry. I gently placed my hand on her forehead, tightened her head back, and checked for her breathing.

I yelled for her to wake up, and she hiccuped and stood up, Mom, are you okay?" I asked her

she winced in pain as I hugged her.

"Where is it hurting you?" I asked her as her tears couldn’t stop dripping. I feel like killing my father for causing her so much pain.

"I’m alright, sweetie," she feigned a smile to lighten up my mood.

I helped her to elevate and allowed her to rest as I went inside the kitchen to get ice packs. I snapped the kitchen light on. My eyes were shaken up by the sight of my father. He stood and cowered in one spot.

"Why are you still awake?" His voice was so adenoidal it was so annoying I cast him a fury gaze as I hid the ice pack I had at my back.

"I couldn’t sleep." I sound so brittle that my hand was shaking and I couldn’t concentrate. I just reminded myself of his punch, and fear crept over me.

"You couldn’t sleep" means what? "You and your stupid mother are pissing me off in this house," he said, raising his arm in anger. Instantly, his arm swung swiftly like steel and imparted itself on me. My feet dangled in the air as I fell down with the ice pack. It broke into pieces. Fear bulged from my eyes. Seeing how furious he was looking, he gripped my hair and taunted, "Oh, are you trying to tell me that I’m hurting your mother?" He dragged me behind. He grabbed me.

"I told you to stop meddling with my business; is it hard to do?" He hit me like a sack and fled from the kitchen.

After he had left, I mustered some strength and left the kitchen to my mother, who is battling with strong pain.

"Dear, did he hurt you?" She asked me as she adjusted her laying position and pressed her hand on my cheek. It’s really hurting so badly to pass another day in this house.

"Mom, I don’t want to stay here again." I want to go somewhere very far from here. I feel like leaving this house, and my mother put her hand in my mouth to shut it and stop me from talking.

"Say no more, dear," she said to me. I can’t imagine how much pain she has endured at the hands of my father.

Looking into her eyes, I can see pain coiling in them.

"He is a good man; don’t worry, he will change." It feels like someone is pinching me each time she reminds me how good her wicked husband is.

She doesn’t want to leave him, hoping that someday he will change. I don’t know why she wants to stay here until she dies.

"I pray you will be alright," I said to her, noticing her eyes were hurting.

I have a little ice. I picked it up and pressed it into her bruises. She winced in pain as I pressed it into her wound. She is really suffering. I hope I can do something to take this burden away from here and from Daddy‘s torture.

She has not taken anything since morning; she has been away since morning to get me some food.

"Dear, open my bag; I got you something to eat," she said to me. I have been hungry since morning, and my stomach has been growling and making a funny sound. My mother is my world.

I went straight to her bag and pulled out a pack full of rice inside. I smiled as I opened it and tried to feed her. She refused to eat,

"I can’t have it; you need to eat," I said to her, making her take some. She looks so fragile; she has lost her strength.

She agreed and joined me to eat. I wish I could change everything so I could take her and make her feel better because my father‘s beating is destroying her beauty. I wonder if he will ever change.

My mother's beauty has waned; she used to be as stunning as a dove, but now she appears so frail, and I pitied her in the hope that she will come out of this horrible situation.

She smiled, and her face lit up as I tightened my grip on her, telling her that I understood her suffering and that I would do anything to make her happy. I wish those smiles would never fade.

the universe made a mistake by creating me and as well with this kind of useless father I mustered to myself.

everything about my father is making me wacky.