I blessed my reflexes as I felt myself duck even before my eyes had time to

register the ink-blue table lamp flying at my head.

? ?You useless girl! I let you stay in my house and this is how you repay me? We ?ll see about that! ? ? Unable to keep myself from flinching at the

fulmination in his tone, I commenced a slow retreat.

? ?I ?m sorry. I didn ?t mean it, honestly. I had to do it, the school forced us to at

least send them, ? ? I tried to postpone the inevitable with my pleading. I ?d

spent the last month in nerve-wrecking anticipation of the arrival of my

college applications; my ticket to freedom. I'd check the mail several times

every day, praying that this wouldn't happen. Reassuring myself that he

never bothered with the mail. Be that as it may, I should've expected this;

luck hadn't been on my side for a long while now.

A vase, decorated with my mother ?s famous gold ornaments, whizzed

centimetrs from my ear. She ?d always been incredible at anything to do with

art. Especially painting. Even now, I can picture the glow in her chocolate

eyes and her bright, unguarded smile when she applauded at my poetry

reading. It had been so unlike the vacant looks with which she stared at the

pristine hospital walls during those last weeks.

? ?You think you can just leave? Eh? You think you ?re better than this? ? ? He

gestured with a swing of his thick arms. Somet instinct told me that this

wasn't like usual. It was something to do with the steel in his eyes, far from

any expression that he'd worn in the last seven years or the calculated

determination.

? ?N-no, ? ? my voice cracked with fear, my brain using up all its control on

trying to regulate my heartbeat.

No matter how much I tried, I could detect no humanity in his eyes, not a

single trace of the person that taught me how to ride a bike, the man who ?d

sing along to the radio as he drove me to school and wouldn ?t let me go to

bed without a goodnight kiss. No, a completely different man charged

forward and lunged for me. I jumped out of the way by the skin of my teeth

and shot off for the stairs at a sprint.

Only a few more months and I ?d be free of his caprice and cruelty. I had to

make it. After all those years of suffering, I was just a breath away from

finally living.

Just as I grabbed the banister, I was thrust right back by my ponytail. He

swayed from impact when I collided with his chest. Vomit started rising up

my throat at the familiar pang of cigarettes and alcohol.

Unfortunately, as tipsy as he was, his grip on my hair didn ?t loosen.

? ?Don ?t worry girl, you ?ll get what you ?ve got coming. ? ? His stale breath

fanned across my face as he slurred into my ear. Then, with one last yank,

he let go. Instantly, I grabbed the banister to regain some balance.

Simultaneously, I tried my best to ignore my burning scalp.

I started scrambling up the stairs. THUD! Hot, searing pain spread from my

temple. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledged the fact that I

was lying on the floor. It was so cool. Just what I needed. It helped with my

headache. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard him ask if I still wanted to

go to some fancy college. Why had I wanted that? It seemed way too tiring to

want. Anyway, he said that I was too stupid to get in to a college. Why had I

applied if they wouldn ?t want me? Silly me! My eyelids seemed to weigh

more and more with every passing minute.

I reached my arm up to prop my head only to discover that there was a

puddle beneath me. Had I spilt some of that water earlier? I ran a hand

through my hair. Why was my hand red? I couldn ?t hear myself think through

the pulsating in my head. In that moment, the pain seemed like a living thing,

an angry child having a tantrum.

I'd just decided that sleep sounded like a wonderful idea when the mention of

my mother triggered an alarm inside me. An image of her flashed inside my

head. Not of the woman she'd been when chemotherapy and drugs had

made her into a zombie, no, the woman who'd fought everyone who had

ever told her that she would never make a living out of art and swore that

she'd prove them wrong, the woman that refused to get an abortion when

she became pregnant with me at seventeen and, most of all, the woman that

refused to give up when the doctors told her that she had breast cancer. She

hadn't even told us until it was inevitable. I recalled how I had fumed when

she'd finally been forced to tell us after fainting during a family dinner out; our

last one ever.

The doctors had later informed us that the cancer was probably caused by

her early pregnancy. She'd never blamed me, told me that I was the best

thing that had ever happened to her. My father, on the other hand, didn't

seem to agree.

She ?d made use of every last second of her life. There was no way I would

go down without a fight. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to gather

any remaining strength. However, my legs were failing me and my arms had

blatantly decided to go on strike. Resilient not to let Eve Aaren ?s existence

end on a creaky old stair, I propped myself onto an elbow, slowly dragging

the dead weights that had once been my feet under me. I gathered all of my

energy for this one last attempt, when suddenly I saw him lift his boot.

I shoot up, trying to gulp air down into my famished lungs. Shots of tremors

make their way down my body as sweat pours down my back. Weak, I fall

back onto the bed. The satin covers stuck to my body strangle me, cage me

in. Terror shoots through me as a small hand tugs at the sleeve of my

nightgown.

? ?Mummy, I can ?t sleep. It ?s scary out. ? ? As if to confirm his statement, a

lightning bolt slices through the sky, followed by ear-piercing thunder. I take

his chubby four-year-old hand in mine. The gesture meant not only to

reassure him, but also to remind me that I ?m no longer seventeen, no longer

in that room with my father. I curse the persistent grip he has on my life

even after a decade.

? ?Will hot chocolate help? ? ?I pray that he doesn't discern the tremble in my

voice.

? ?With marshmallows? ? ?

? ?And cinnamon, 'My smile becomes slightly less strained at his eager nod. With one last glance at the form of his sleeping father, my college

sweetheart, I slip out of bed and go to soothe my son ?s fears, wishing my

sleepless nights could be solved with a warm drink.