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 knew that he was 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 1:30a.m in the morning. It was a time of sleep for every being that crawled on the earth. Mere mortals had taken 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 that. The incident made him so. I do sympathize with him, 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 couldn't. We were her stuck point.

"Don't, mother! Don't do something that you will 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 in!

"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 quite 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 not to 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, 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!

As soon as the door flung open, I 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, 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 satisfying if he was killed!

I watched on, unable to say or do anything. Unable to save 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 her face got punched, as her lips bled out, as her eyes swelled up, as her hair got dragged around, strands of it filled my father's hand. I watched as my father rained blows on her body, his hands covered in blood, as my mother guarded her stomach with both of her hands, sobbing profusely in pain. I watched as he dragged her around forcefully, hitting her head on the floor countless times.

I watched on with fear in my heart, knowing that this wasn't the end. This isn't over!

I stood frozen in place as my dad beat the hell out of my mother, as he cursed.

"You killed her! You deserve to die too! You worthless piece of trash!" He went on.

The scene displayed in front of me was not new. It has been ongoing for a long time. As I looked down at my body, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The bruises that covered my skin seemed to have become permanent fixtures, a constant reminder of the abuse I had endured. It felt like this moment was a never-ending cycle, with no way out.

But then, everything suddenly went silent. The sounds of my mother's pleas and my father's punches faded away, leaving me in a strange, eerily quiet place. I felt as though I were floating, weightless and untethered like a ghost.

It was as if my mind went blank, shutting out the sounds of their voices. All I could see was the scene in front of me, playing out in muted silence. It was as if my thoughts had been frozen, unable to process the chaos all around me.

Suddenly, I found myself transported to another place, a place I recognized all too well. It was the day my father first started hitting us. But it was as if my body had been transported there, while my mind was still caught in the present moment. Maybe it was just my brain playing mind games with me in this dire moment. Everything around me was happening in silence, like a movie playing on mute. I felt numb, unable to process what was happening.

I stood frozen, reliving the events of that fateful night. The anniversary of her death. The dinner. My drunk father. The smile on my mother's face. The joyful atmosphere that turned sour so quickly. The news, the tears, and then... the violence. I watched it unfold before me like a silent movie, unable to look away from the tragedy that played out in front of me.

That's when it began, never stopping, and it seemed never ending, an endless cycle of pain and suffering.

Would we have been different if we had chosen a different path?

If we had made different choices, would we have turned out to be different people?

Would our personalities have been shaped differently by the experiences we have had?

Do our personalities get shaped differently by the experiences we have had?

If things had turned out differently, could we still have been happy? Would we have avoided the tragedies that befell us?

Would our story have been a happy ending if we were all still together? If she was still alive?

Would my father have turned out differently if circumstances had been different?

Or was he always like this and would have shown his true colors along the line even if the tragedy hadn't befallen us?

How did it come to this? How did I end up hiding my face from the world, ashamed of the scars that had marred my once-beautiful features? I felt like a monster, hidden behind a mask, unable to show my true self to anyone.

These questions and more swirl endlessly in my mind, but no matter how much I ponder them, I can't seem to find any answers. 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.

In an instant, I was transported back to the times of the abuse, reliving each moment as if it were happening again. It was as if my mind had processed everything that had happened, and now I was ready to face the memories head-on. I was no longer running from them, but rather taking the time to process and make sense of it all. I guess now was a good time to go down memory lane for my mind.

And just like that, I was suddenly brought back to the present moment. And like magic, the muted scene happening right in front of me suddenly had volume and I could hear the voices speaking. It all came at once, like a wave of water, washing over my ears.

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

No! Not again! This can't happen again! The last time it did, we almost lost her! I can't let it happen again. I can't lose another significant person in my life! Not after her!

With newfound courage coursing through my veins, I headed straight for my father to put an end to his brutal treatment.

"Get off her! Stop hurting her! That's enough!" I said as I tried to push my father away from her, but his masculine figure was a hindrance to my act as he flung me into a corner with his hands.

I felt my resolve slipping away, but I had to try one more time. "Get away from her! You are going to kill her! Stop it!" I cried at him, tears streaming down my cheeks.

My father took a pause from my mother only to push me forcefully, flinging my body to the closed entrance door, hitting my back hard.

"Get lost!" He said as I flew through the air.

I fell flat to the ground, my head hitting the weapon he used on my mother lying around on the floor. I placed a hand on the right side of my head and the wet liquid I felt was confirmation that I was bleeding on the head.

I tried to stand back up, but I couldn't. I fell back down. The push was forceful, causing me severe weakness.

My visions started to become blurry and I felt a pang of pain in my head. My eyes began to close slowly, I was about to lose consciousness, but I could still see as my father beat the hell out of my passed out mother.

I struggled to keep my eyes open, fighting to stand up, when I saw my father pause his assault on my mother. A look of satisfaction crossed his face as he heaved a sigh. He turned towards me, and with his bloody hands, he began to approach me, picking up the weapon that lay in front of me, his face filled with pleasure at what he was about to do.

"It's your turn now," he said as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.

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!