Saved By Mr. L

AURORA'S POINT OF VIEW

It happened again. He did it again. He hit her. He was on to me next. I had to make a run for it. I was tired of it all. I needed to find solace or else I knew the bruises would be deeper this time. He came back drunk again for the hundredth time. Banging the door, shouting "Let me in!"

How could I when I know that he is going to beat the hell out of us if I did. The whole neighborhood was as silent as a graveyard. As it should be at 1:30 a.m. in the morning. It was a time of sleep for every being that crawled the earth. Mere mortals had taken to heed and unearthly beings roamed the night. How could I know if he hasn't been possessed by one of them?

He has always been so vulgar. No! He wasn't like this. The incident made him so. There was a time when we were so happy. I still remember those summer days when dad would take us to the beach or those Christmas mornings when we'd build a snowman.

Dad used to braid our hair and pancake Sunday was the best day of the week. But... all that changed when the incident happened.

I do sympathize with my father because of it, but truth be told, we all suffered from it so he wasn't any less different from us. He took his grief way too far. We got over ours quickly but that didn't mean we didn't love her. It was only because we wanted her to move on too. We knew that if we didn't move on, she wouldn't. We were her stuck point.

"Don't mother! Don't do something that you would come to regret!" I said to my mother as I watched her about to open the door for my father. She was about to let him!

"Not again! Not this night too! It's too sacred to be ruined with scars and bruises. Just let him stay outside, mother!" I warned her again.

She couldn't let him in and let him ruin the night for the both of us. It was his shouting that woke us up from our sleep. We proceeded down the stairs, our hearts filled with jitters and fear.

It was evident to us that today's drinking was different from the normal routine. His voice carried a hint of sadness in them and as he crouched down on his knees crying, we knew that it came from a place of hurt.

Which is probably why my mother thought it was best to let him in, to console him but I knew this beast better than anyone else. He wasn't deserving of a second chance or any chance for that matter.

As my mother twisted the door knob, I kept on waving my head in disagreement with her actions.

"No! No! No! Mother, please don't!" I muttered countless times, begging her to rethink her actions but she gave me no heed.

"He will hit us and you know it! Just let him stay out there, mother! Don't do it, mom!" I persuaded her but she seemed to not budge.

"He is hurting. He is your father and remember that today is the day we lost her. Why don't we all grieve together? Why don't we console each other, together, as a family?" She said to me with a warm voice, her eyes moist and face filled with concern and love for that deadbeat of a man outside.

Why doesn't she ever listen to me?!

We are not a family anymore!

We cannot console him!

I knew I had to stop my mother. As the door gave way to streaks of lights from the outside, I rushed forward.

"No, no, no, wait, wait, please listen to me!" I yelled breathlessly as I stood in front of her, taking the door knob from her grasp.

My eyes welled up with tears as I struggled to clear my mind and find the right words to say.

Once I finally found my voice, I took a deep breath and began. "Mom... we can't keep living like this. I'm tired, aren't you?" I asked, my voice trembling.

My mother didn't respond but her hazel eyes mirrored her answers.

"Let's... let's call the police. Let's run away. I don't want to get beaten... please." I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks.

My mother's silence was heavy in the air. She cradled my face and wiped away my tears. She nodded in reply and as she opened her mouth to speak, the unimaginable happened.

My father bolted the door open with all his strength, sending me flying across the room and my mother tumbling back.

As soon as the door flung open, I quickly rose to my feet and took a step back, bracing myself up for what was about to happen next. And with the speed of light, he struck! Creating menace and chaos in the air!

He went after her, my mother, holding her hair tightly, causing her so much pain. Grabbing the weapon he could find close to him, he released strikes on her body with it, damaging her beautiful olive skin. I watched in horror as it took place. As she screamed in pain, begging profusely, as he repeatedly hit her, dropping the weapon and using his fists while he cursed out.

"Stupid woman! You are such a fool! Why didn't you open the door earlier?! You left me out there in the dark, waiting! What if I was attacked and killed by an unknown person?! You will pay for it!" He said in his drunken state.

I would find it very much satisfying if he was killed.

I watched on, unable to say or do anything. Unable to help my mother from the hands of my father, unable to move. I watched on as she kept screaming my name for help, begging me to save her.

"Aurora! Aurora, please do something! Aurora, please save me! Please do something, Aurora! Please!" She begged profusely as I saw her body fill up with bruises, blood slowly dripping out from some parts of the openings.

I watched as my father's fists tore into her, reopening bruises and splitting her lips. Her swollen eyes pleaded for mercy as he yanked her by the hair, strands tangled in his bloodied hands. She sobbed, clutching her stomach, shielding herself as he slammed her head against the floor again and again.

Fear gripped me as I watched, knowing this wasn't the end. Frozen in place, I saw my dad unleash his fury on my mom, his curses echoing: "You killed her! You deserve to die, you worthless trash!"

The scene before me was all too familiar-a cycle of pain that never seemed to end. My mother's screams, my father's curses, the sound of flesh meeting fists-it played out like a nightmare on repeat. My bruised body ached, the marks a permanent reminder of my reality.

Then, everything went silent. The chaos faded, leaving me in an eerie void. It was like floating in darkness, disconnected, watching the violence unfold in muted horror. My mind retreated, pulling me into a memory-the night it all began.

That dinner. My father, drunk. My mother's smile, so bright before it all turned sour. The news. The tears. The first strike. The shift from love to terror. That night rewrote our lives, binding us to this endless cycle of suffering.

Could things have been different? If she were still alive, would we be whole? Would my father have been a better man? Or was this who he always was, waiting for the right moment to unravel?

These questions haunted me, their answers lost in the chaos. All the love and happiness I had known in my family now feels like a distant memory, faded and blurred by the years of pain and suffering that followed. What was once joyful and loving now seems like a fantasy, a dream I can barely recall.

I didn't recognize myself anymore-a girl hidden behind shame and fear.

Then, like a crashing wave, the present surged back. The silence broke, replaced by screams and curses that echoed in my head. I was no longer lost in the past. I was here, trapped in this unending torment.

Before my eyes, I saw as my mother began to lose consciousness, her eyes almost closing.

No! Not again! This can't happen again! I can't lose her too-not like this.

Without thinking, I lunged at my father. "Stop it! Leave her alone! You're hurting her! That's enough!" I shoved him, desperate to end his madness.

My father barely flinched. With a single swing of his arm, he sent me crashing into the corner. "Get lost!" he roared.

I stumbled to my feet, tears streaming down my face. "You're going to kill her! Stop it!" I screamed, rushing at him again.

This time, he didn't just shove me-he flung me across the room. My back slammed against the door, and my head struck something hard, the weapon he had used on my mother, lying on the floor. Pain shot through my skull. I placed a hand on the right side of my head and the wet liquid I felt was a confirmation that I was bleeding on the head.

I tried to get up, but my legs gave out beneath me. The room spun, my vision blurred, and my head throbbed. Still, I could see him, his fists raining down on my unconscious mother.

I tried to fight the darkness creeping over me, but my strength was fading fast. Through the haze, I saw him stop, his chest heaving as he turned toward me. A look of satisfaction on his face. He picked up the weapon near my head, his bloodied hands gripping it tightly. His eyes burned with rage.

"It's your turn now," he growled, stepping closer.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was his shadow looming over me. I knew deep down, even as I faded into blackness, that it wasn't a hindrance to him. It would not stop him from hitting me!