Maja Malinowska 3.3
The dark, murky waters pulled me in, hypnotising me. One step, two steps. The freezing water wrapped itself around my knees, sending chills throughout my whole body. My shaky breath got steadily heavier the deeper I entered. The moon and the clouds were mirrored in the sea, as if there was another world waiting for me underneath. A world of peace, where everyone got along and where everyone was happy. The water now reached my waist. I flinched as the harsh cold came into contact with my stomach, but bit by bit, I persevered. I started to think back on my life, the short amount of time I had to experience it. Along with all the memories came the emotions. I thought of what would happen after all this, after they found my body, informed my family. Would they even care? Would they mourn? Would they be sad for a week and move on with life, having other things that needed their attention, needed taking care of? Would anyone miss me? Would my friends cry over their loss? Or would they simply brag to everyone that they knew me, that they were close to me, that they used to be my ‘friends’. Maybe they didn’t actually like me. Maybe, from the very beginning, they had been pretending. Maybe everything they had said and done up until now was all a lie. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. It would all be over soon. “What are you doing?” I panicked. I stopped edging forward and slowly turned my upper body around so that I could see behind me, see who said that. Their high-pitched voice had me guessing; once I turned around I knew I was right. A little girl, about 5 years old, was standing on the beach, her feet in the water, her long, tangled hair waving slowly in the gentle wind. An oversized dress hung loosely from her delicate and fragile body. Its white colour stood out against the darkness, making her seem like a ghost. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s already late, what are you still doing outside? You should be in bed by now.” The fact that I was triple her age gave me authority of some sort over her, a power to tell her off and tell her what to do. I’d shoo her away, and then I’d continue my...journey. “Why are you crying?” She had ignored my question, and instead pointed in my direction. I realised that I still had remnants of tears on my face. With the dry part of my sleeves I quickly wiped them away, hoping that that way she would magically forget that she had noticed me crying. But she just stood there, staring, waiting expectantly for an answer. I just wanted her to leave already; she was interrupting me, and I wanted to get this over and done with. I decided to play along a bit, hoping that the girl would leave me alone once she got an answer from me. “Because...I’m just a little sad, that’s all.” “Did someone say something mean to you?” Was this girl seriously trying to help me right now? ‘Pathetic’, I thought. Kids always saw themselves superior to everyone else, as if they were smarter than us. It frustrated me. “No, no one said anything mean, I’m just upset because nothing is going the way I would like it to go right now.” “Did you not get what you wanted?” “...Yeah, you could say that.” The girl picked up a stick lying nearby and crouched down. I cringed as I saw the lower back of her dress get wet in the waves which were crawling up the sand and then slowly retreating back into the sea. However the girl didn’t seem to care; she didn’t even seem to notice. She occupied herself with doodling on the sand; she’d wait for the waves to make her markings disappear before starting over. She continued doing this for a minute, thinking deeply. “You know, you don’t always get everything you hope for in life.” ‘No shit’, I thought. “Yeah, I know that. But you deserve to get something, right? Anything at all; my problem is that I have nothing. I’m not asking for everything I hope for in life; the bare minimum would be good enough.” Why the hell was I even discussing this with a 5 year old? The more I thought about it, the stupider I felt for taking part in this conversation. “I think you’re underestimating the things surrounding you. I mean, you have a family, right? You have friends. Isn’t that all you need to be able to live a happy life?” Where the heck did this kid learn to use such big words? “You see kid, I can’t talk to these people about this. If they heard about my problems, if they heard how sad I am, they’d just try to fix me; the thing is, I’m not broken. I don’t need fixing. I just need someone to listen to me and be there for me and hug me and help me get through life...” My eyes started welling up. My vision got blurry, and I could just barely see the outline of her white dress against the darkness surrounding us. I couldn’t breathe; the hiccups were getting the better of me; the tears just continued to flow. I couldn’t stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. It was as if I had been taking care of a balloon filled with water inside of me, and then this girl came along and punctured it with a needle. The balloon simply burst, spilling its contents everywhere. As I stood there, rubbing my swollen eyes, I glimpsed the girl getting up, and, with swift determination, entering the water. “Woah, hold on, what are you doing, stop, it’s too deep for you here!” I dragged my legs through the water to shallower ground. I was up to my knees again when I met up with the girl. It was then that I noticed the bruise; a purple mark stretching across her left cheekbone. The deep purple colour confirmed that it was a fresh bruise; it looked as though someone had recently punched her. As I was about to question the girl about it, she stuck out her tiny bony arms and tried wrapping them around my waist, but because of her petite figure ended up wrapping them around my legs, as tightly as she could. She whispered something barely audible, something that made my eyes fill up with tears again, tears which rolled down my cheeks with swiftness and landed on the top of her head. “It’s going to be ok....” I returned the hug, squeezing her delicate body as much as I dared. “Yeah..it’s going to be fine...” Bloody Alcohol
The strident sound of the school bell awoke me from my whiteboard hypnotising trance. It took me a moment to come back to reality. Then, I slowly got out of my seat, brushed my bronze coloured hair out of my face and sighed lightly. Not wanting to spend any more time in the classroom I headed in the direction of my locker. The feeling of being lost in a crowd is quite a nice one, actually. Seeing a blur of colour and people before your eyes, knowing that the term “stranger” is mutual to the both of you, is a comforting thought. The murmuring freely jumps around the hallway, only rarely disturbed by teenage shouting. Just a short walk in that foyer, surrounded by friends and peers, and I was already able to taste the diverse flavours of youth. Sweet, sour, salty, savoury... all mixed into one to form the complex dish known as adolescence. Finally, my train of thought came to its terminal; I opened my locker and carefully put in my books. “Hey Alex, you finished your piece for philosophy club yet?” I jump slightly. “Jesus, you scared me. Also, yes, I have.” “Alright, alright”, he answered playfully. I sensed a bit of defensiveness in his voice. “Are you still up for a movie night today? It’ll be a heck ton of fun. Do you prefer action, comedy or horror?” I felt my shoulders tense up, but luckily, I was able to conceal it from my friend. “Sorry, my dad won’t let me go”, I hurriedly replied, hoping he will move onto a different topic. “God, how come your dad never lets you out of the house?” Does he really think I know the answer to that question? Does he feed the illusion that my dad cares about me at all? Oh, that’s right. I never told anybody. “I don’t know”, I mumble. Just please leave me alone, I started begging in my mind. This is how it always is in school. Someone brings up something about my family and I’m forced to hide behind a mask of blissful ignorance. Unknowingly, I slammed the locker door shut. “Woah, chill there buddy. No need for such violence. Anyways, I’ll catch you later.” “See you later.” Relief washed over me like a wave brushes the sandy banks of its neighbour. Finally, after an unexpected distraction, I exited the school. Isn’t it curiously coincidental that “home” and “hell” both start with the same letter? The cold, dark entranceway quickly grasped me in its melancholic embrace. Letting only the minimal amount of light in, the small window in the sitting room ahead of me served as the only source of illumination. It gave a gentle, yet radiant outline to the worn-down furniture. The swamp- esque green and brown bottles that littered the floor reeked of beer, filling the house with the sour aroma of alcohol. Iris’ room is the second one on the left, located right behind my dad’s one. I knocked softly, careful not to startle her, and received a faint “Come in”. She was sitting slouched at her desk. Her long, chestnut hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, precious sapphire eyes carefully scanning the worksheet in front of her. Finally, Iris turned around to face me. “Hey. How was school?” I asked faintly. It’s a habit of ours at this point to keep our voices low. “Pretty well. Is he home?” ‘He’ — a pronoun used frequently between us to refer to a certain individual; our dad. “No”, I reassured her with a tepid smile. We decided to leave the conversation at that. I left to go to the kitchen, wanting to cobble together some dinner, which mainly consisted of noodles and hot tea ― staple foods in our household. A few hours passed before he returned home. And what a show he put on for us once again! Shakily, dad stumbled into the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. Incomprehensible slurs and curses left his vile mouth at a mind-blowing rate. Greasy hair, a disgusting unshaved face, dirt-covered shirt and trousers, bottle in hand; I’m appalled to call this creature my dad. Resembling a drunk bear, the male dragged his feet on the laminate flooring with awkward heaviness. He was heading for Iris’ room. Without warning, he barged in, like a medieval battering ram tearing down a castle portcullis. “It’s all your fault that I’m like this! Couldn’t you try to be a simpler god damn child to raise? Fucking hell, it’s all your fault I’m like this!” Abuse, vitriol, hatred, hitting, slapping. I’m sorry Iris. I feel pathetic not being able to help the only person close to me. I hate that I never heard her scream. The ear-splitting, chilling cry for help wasn’t present; the cliché was broken. At that moment, how used is she to his violence to not even make a sound? To completely block her vocal chords from doing their job? To endure it for god knows whose sake? I felt my blood boiling. This is wrong. “STOP!” Why did I shout? What is happening? I must stop, otherwise I’ll deeply regret my actions. “STOP, YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD!” Why am I walking to her room? What is happening? I have lost control over my body. My subconscious was evicted from its household, being replaced by blinding rage, a lust for revenge and irrational courage. I let these feelings take over me. “What did you say, brat? You want some too?” His voice was muffled and barely intelligible in my ears. Just then, I felt a sudden, swift movement of air centimetres from my head. The splitting sound of broken glass behind me confirmed it to be a beer bottle. Wasting no time, I lunged forward and directed my clenched right fist to his nose. He stumbled on his feet a bit but remained standing. My left hand was already aiming for his jaw, but dad reacted faster. He grabbed me by the collar, chucking me across the room. My head felt like it was split in half after the impact, but luckily there was no blood. Groaning, I tried pushing myself up on my elbows. At that moment, time froze in its eternal journey. My eyes absorbed my sister’s state. Iris hid herself in the corner of the room. I could tell she was crying even though her face was covered by her baggy, washed-out pink jumper. Her body was shaking, but still not a single sound escaped her. This sight brought me to action. Whether it was a courteous act of bravery or raw animal instinct, I did not know. Then, time abruptly sped up. I quickly saw the smashed bottle lying near the wall close to me. With a bit of effort, I sprung up and took it by the neck. Left leg forward, right leg forward, walking to jogging, jogging to running. I charged feverishly at dad and pushed the bottle right through his chest. The mercury liquid squirted from his heart, slowly coating the glass shards. Like petite rubies, small droplets plummeted to the ground. He collapsed, helplessly trying to stop the blood flow with his hand. Eventually, our tyrant stopped moving and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Death washed over his face, leaving its beautifully devastating mark behind. My breathing became deep and swift, sweat covered my forehead and trickled down my face slowly. I dropped the lethal weapon on the ground; my hands were shaking too much to continue holding it. What have I done? Iris whimpered from the corner of the room. I rushed to her side without a second thought. She put her head up and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my soles. The sapphires have shattered. They were bleeding transparently, colourlessly. These precious eyes were shedding uncontrollable tears. Tears that expressed confusion and relief, anxiety and hope. In short terms a whirlpool of emotions. “What’s going to become of us?” Iris asked in a weak voice. “I don’t know, but-” “Please tell me... it’s going to be fine, right? But how can it be fine? You’ve killed someone for God’s sake!” I didn’t think she had any energy left in her to faintly shout at me, yet it’s understandable. “Iris, please pull together!” I lightly, but firmly shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back to reality. “Look. There is always a tomorrow. No matter if you live in heaven or hell, this day ends and a new one begins...” I stopped shortly to look at her reaction. She was listening intently. I continued: “Our today was tainted with beating and hatred. Now our tomorrow suddenly became a beacon of light. We just have to adjust to its brightness.” The train of thought peacefully made it to its last stop. After a slight pause, Iris spoke up. “Well then. Let’s follow this light until it leads us out of this dark tunnel.” Bloody Alcohol The strident sound of the school bell awoke me from my whiteboard hypnotising trance. It took me a moment to come back to reality. Then, I slowly got out of my seat, brushed my bronze coloured hair out of my face and sighed lightly. Not wanting to spend any more time in the classroom I headed in the direction of my locker. The feeling of being lost in a crowd is quite a nice one, actually. Seeing a blur of colour and people before your eyes, knowing that the term “stranger” is mutual to the both of you, is a comforting thought. The murmuring freely jumps around the hallway, only rarely disturbed by teenage shouting. Just a short walk in that foyer, surrounded by friends and peers, and I was already able to taste the diverse flavours of youth. Sweet, sour, salty, savoury... all mixed into one to form the complex dish known as adolescence. Finally, my train of thought came to its terminal; I opened my locker and carefully put in my books. “Hey Alex, you finished your piece for philosophy club yet?” I jump slightly. “Jesus, you scared me. Also, yes, I have.” “Alright, alright”, he answered playfully. I sensed a bit of defensiveness in his voice. “Are you still up for a movie night today? It’ll be a heck ton of fun. Do you prefer action, comedy or horror?” I felt my shoulders tense up, but luckily, I was able to conceal it from my friend. “Sorry, my dad won’t let me go”, I hurriedly replied, hoping he will move onto a different topic. “God, how come your dad never lets you out of the house?” Does he really think I know the answer to that question? Does he feed the illusion that my dad cares about me at all? Oh, that’s right. I never told anybody. “I don’t know”, I mumble. Just please leave me alone, I started begging in my mind. This is how it always is in school. Someone brings up something about my family and I’m forced to hide behind a mask of blissful ignorance. Unknowingly, I slammed the locker door shut. “Woah, chill there buddy. No need for such violence. Anyways, I’ll catch you later.” “See you later.” Relief washed over me like a wave brushes the sandy banks of its neighbour. Finally, after an unexpected distraction, I exited the school. Isn’t it curiously coincidental that “home” and “hell” both start with the same letter? The cold, dark entranceway quickly grasped me in its melancholic embrace. Letting only the minimal amount of light in, the small window in the sitting room ahead of me served as the only source of illumination. It gave a gentle, yet radiant outline to the worn-down furniture. The swamp- esque green and brown bottles that littered the floor reeked of beer, filling the house with the sour aroma of alcohol. Iris’ room is the second one on the left, located right behind my dad’s one. I knocked softly, careful not to startle her, and received a faint “Come in”. She was sitting slouched at her desk. Her long, chestnut hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, precious sapphire eyes carefully scanning the worksheet in front of her. Finally, Iris turned around to face me. “Hey. How was school?” I asked faintly. It’s a habit of ours at this point to keep our voices low. “Pretty well. Is he home?” ‘He’ — a pronoun used frequently between us to refer to a certain individual; our dad. “No”, I reassured her with a tepid smile. We decided to leave the conversation at that. I left to go to the kitchen, wanting to cobble together some dinner, which mainly consisted of noodles and hot tea ― staple foods in our household. A few hours passed before he returned home. And what a show he put on for us once again! Shakily, dad stumbled into the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. Incomprehensible slurs and curses left his vile mouth at a mind-blowing rate. Greasy hair, a disgusting unshaved face, dirt-covered shirt and trousers, bottle in hand; I’m appalled to call this creature my dad. Resembling a drunk bear, the male dragged his feet on the laminate flooring with awkward heaviness. He was heading for Iris’ room. Without warning, he barged in, like a medieval battering ram tearing down a castle portcullis. “It’s all your fault that I’m like this! Couldn’t you try to be a simpler god damn child to raise? Fucking hell, it’s all your fault I’m like this!” Abuse, vitriol, hatred, hitting, slapping. I’m sorry Iris. I feel pathetic not being able to help the only person close to me. I hate that I never heard her scream. The ear-splitting, chilling cry for help wasn’t present; the cliché was broken. At that moment, how used is she to his violence to not even make a sound? To completely block her vocal chords from doing their job? To endure it for god knows whose sake? I felt my blood boiling. This is wrong. “STOP!” Why did I shout? What is happening? I must stop, otherwise I’ll deeply regret my actions. “STOP, YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD!” Why am I walking to her room? What is happening? I have lost control over my body. My subconscious was evicted from its household, being replaced by blinding rage, a lust for revenge and irrational courage. I let these feelings take over me. “What did you say, brat? You want some too?” His voice was muffled and barely intelligible in my ears. Just then, I felt a sudden, swift movement of air centimetres from my head. The splitting sound of broken glass behind me confirmed it to be a beer bottle. Wasting no time, I lunged forward and directed my clenched right fist to his nose. He stumbled on his feet a bit but remained standing. My left hand was already aiming for his jaw, but dad reacted faster. He grabbed me by the collar, chucking me across the room. My head felt like it was split in half after the impact, but luckily there was no blood. Groaning, I tried pushing myself up on my elbows. At that moment, time froze in its eternal journey. My eyes absorbed my sister’s state. Iris hid herself in the corner of the room. I could tell she was crying even though her face was covered by her baggy, washed-out pink jumper. Her body was shaking, but still not a single sound escaped her. This sight brought me to action. Whether it was a courteous act of bravery or raw animal instinct, I did not know. Then, time abruptly sped up. I quickly saw the smashed bottle lying near the wall close to me. With a bit of effort, I sprung up and took it by the neck. Left leg forward, right leg forward, walking to jogging, jogging to running. I charged feverishly at dad and pushed the bottle right through his chest. The mercury liquid squirted from his heart, slowly coating the glass shards. Like petite rubies, small droplets plummeted to the ground. He collapsed, helplessly trying to stop the blood flow with his hand. Eventually, our tyrant stopped moving and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Death washed over his face, leaving its beautifully devastating mark behind. My breathing became deep and swift, sweat covered my forehead and trickled down my face slowly. I dropped the lethal weapon on the ground; my hands were shaking too much to continue holding it. What have I done? Iris whimpered from the corner of the room. I rushed to her side without a second thought. She put her head up and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my soles. The sapphires have shattered. They were bleeding transparently, colourlessly. These precious eyes were shedding uncontrollable tears. Tears that expressed confusion and relief, anxiety and hope. In short terms a whirlpool of emotions. “What’s going to become of us?” Iris asked in a weak voice. “I don’t know, but-” “Please tell me... it’s going to be fine, right? But how can it be fine? You’ve killed someone for God’s sake!” I didn’t think she had any energy left in her to faintly shout at me, yet it’s understandable. “Iris, please pull together!” I lightly, but firmly shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back to reality. “Look. There is always a tomorrow. No matter if you live in heaven or hell, this day ends and a new one begins...” I stopped shortly to look at her reaction. She was listening intently. I continued: “Our today was tainted with beating and hatred. Now our tomorrow suddenly became a beacon of light. We just have to adjust to its brightness.” The train of thought peacefully made it to its last stop. After a slight pause, Iris spoke up. “Well then. Let’s follow this light until it leads us out of this dark tunnel.” Bloody Alcohol The strident sound of the school bell awoke me from my whiteboard hypnotising trance. It took me a moment to come back to reality. Then, I slowly got out of my seat, brushed my bronze coloured hair out of my face and sighed lightly. Not wanting to spend any more time in the classroom I headed in the direction of my locker. The feeling of being lost in a crowd is quite a nice one, actually. Seeing a blur of colour and people before your eyes, knowing that the term “stranger” is mutual to the both of you, is a comforting thought. The murmuring freely jumps around the hallway, only rarely disturbed by teenage shouting. Just a short walk in that foyer, surrounded by friends and peers, and I was already able to taste the diverse flavours of youth. Sweet, sour, salty, savoury... all mixed into one to form the complex dish known as adolescence. Finally, my train of thought came to its terminal; I opened my locker and carefully put in my books. “Hey Alex, you finished your piece for philosophy club yet?” I jump slightly. “Jesus, you scared me. Also, yes, I have.” “Alright, alright”, he answered playfully. I sensed a bit of defensiveness in his voice. “Are you still up for a movie night today? It’ll be a heck ton of fun. Do you prefer action, comedy or horror?” I felt my shoulders tense up, but luckily, I was able to conceal it from my friend. “Sorry, my dad won’t let me go”, I hurriedly replied, hoping he will move onto a different topic. “God, how come your dad never lets you out of the house?” Does he really think I know the answer to that question? Does he feed the illusion that my dad cares about me at all? Oh, that’s right. I never told anybody. “I don’t know”, I mumble. Just please leave me alone, I started begging in my mind. This is how it always is in school. Someone brings up something about my family and I’m forced to hide behind a mask of blissful ignorance. Unknowingly, I slammed the locker door shut. “Woah, chill there buddy. No need for such violence. Anyways, I’ll catch you later.” “See you later.” Relief washed over me like a wave brushes the sandy banks of its neighbour. Finally, after an unexpected distraction, I exited the school. Isn’t it curiously coincidental that “home” and “hell” both start with the same letter? The cold, dark entranceway quickly grasped me in its melancholic embrace. Letting only the minimal amount of light in, the small window in the sitting room ahead of me served as the only source of illumination. It gave a gentle, yet radiant outline to the worn-down furniture. The swamp- esque green and brown bottles that littered the floor reeked of beer, filling the house with the sour aroma of alcohol. Iris’ room is the second one on the left, located right behind my dad’s one. I knocked softly, careful not to startle her, and received a faint “Come in”. She was sitting slouched at her desk. Her long, chestnut hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, precious sapphire eyes carefully scanning the worksheet in front of her. Finally, Iris turned around to face me. “Hey. How was school?” I asked faintly. It’s a habit of ours at this point to keep our voices low. “Pretty well. Is he home?” ‘He’ — a pronoun used frequently between us to refer to a certain individual; our dad. “No”, I reassured her with a tepid smile. We decided to leave the conversation at that. I left to go to the kitchen, wanting to cobble together some dinner, which mainly consisted of noodles and hot tea ― staple foods in our household. A few hours passed before he returned home. And what a show he put on for us once again! Shakily, dad stumbled into the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. Incomprehensible slurs and curses left his vile mouth at a mind-blowing rate. Greasy hair, a disgusting unshaved face, dirt-covered shirt and trousers, bottle in hand; I’m appalled to call this creature my dad. Resembling a drunk bear, the male dragged his feet on the laminate flooring with awkward heaviness. He was heading for Iris’ room. Without warning, he barged in, like a medieval battering ram tearing down a castle portcullis. “It’s all your fault that I’m like this! Couldn’t you try to be a simpler god damn child to raise? Fucking hell, it’s all your fault I’m like this!” Abuse, vitriol, hatred, hitting, slapping. I’m sorry Iris. I feel pathetic not being able to help the only person close to me. I hate that I never heard her scream. The ear-splitting, chilling cry for help wasn’t present; the cliché was broken. At that moment, how used is she to his violence to not even make a sound? To completely block her vocal chords from doing their job? To endure it for god knows whose sake? I felt my blood boiling. This is wrong. “STOP!” Why did I shout? What is happening? I must stop, otherwise I’ll deeply regret my actions. “STOP, YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD!” Why am I walking to her room? What is happening? I have lost control over my body. My subconscious was evicted from its household, being replaced by blinding rage, a lust for revenge and irrational courage. I let these feelings take over me. “What did you say, brat? You want some too?” His voice was muffled and barely intelligible in my ears. Just then, I felt a sudden, swift movement of air centimetres from my head. The splitting sound of broken glass behind me confirmed it to be a beer bottle. Wasting no time, I lunged forward and directed my clenched right fist to his nose. He stumbled on his feet a bit but remained standing. My left hand was already aiming for his jaw, but dad reacted faster. He grabbed me by the collar, chucking me across the room. My head felt like it was split in half after the impact, but luckily there was no blood. Groaning, I tried pushing myself up on my elbows. At that moment, time froze in its eternal journey. My eyes absorbed my sister’s state. Iris hid herself in the corner of the room. I could tell she was crying even though her face was covered by her baggy, washed-out pink jumper. Her body was shaking, but still not a single sound escaped her. This sight brought me to action. Whether it was a courteous act of bravery or raw animal instinct, I did not know. Then, time abruptly sped up. I quickly saw the smashed bottle lying near the wall close to me. With a bit of effort, I sprung up and took it by the neck. Left leg forward, right leg forward, walking to jogging, jogging to running. I charged feverishly at dad and pushed the bottle right through his chest. The mercury liquid squirted from his heart, slowly coating the glass shards. Like petite rubies, small droplets plummeted to the ground. He collapsed, helplessly trying to stop the blood flow with his hand. Eventually, our tyrant stopped moving and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Death washed over his face, leaving its beautifully devastating mark behind. My breathing became deep and swift, sweat covered my forehead and trickled down my face slowly. I dropped the lethal weapon on the ground; my hands were shaking too much to continue holding it. What have I done? Iris whimpered from the corner of the room. I rushed to her side without a second thought. She put her head up and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my soles. The sapphires have shattered. They were bleeding transparently, colourlessly. These precious eyes were shedding uncontrollable tears. Tears that expressed confusion and relief, anxiety and hope. In short terms a whirlpool of emotions. “What’s going to become of us?” Iris asked in a weak voice. “I don’t know, but-” “Please tell me... it’s going to be fine, right? But how can it be fine? You’ve killed someone for God’s sake!” I didn’t think she had any energy left in her to faintly shout at me, yet it’s understandable. “Iris, please pull together!” I lightly, but firmly shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back to reality. “Look. There is always a tomorrow. No matter if you live in heaven or hell, this day ends and a new one begins...” I stopped shortly to look at her reaction. She was listening intently. I continued: “Our today was tainted with beating and hatred. Now our tomorrow suddenly became a beacon of light. We just have to adjust to its brightness.” The train of thought peacefully made it to its last stop. After a slight pause, Iris spoke up. “Well then. Let’s follow this light until it leads us out of this dark tunnel.” Bloody Alcohol The strident sound of the school bell awoke me from my whiteboard hypnotising trance. It took me a moment to come back to reality. Then, I slowly got out of my seat, brushed my bronze coloured hair out of my face and sighed lightly. Not wanting to spend any more time in the classroom I headed in the direction of my locker. The feeling of being lost in a crowd is quite a nice one, actually. Seeing a blur of colour and people before your eyes, knowing that the term “stranger” is mutual to the both of you, is a comforting thought. The murmuring freely jumps around the hallway, only rarely disturbed by teenage shouting. Just a short walk in that foyer, surrounded by friends and peers, and I was already able to taste the diverse flavours of youth. Sweet, sour, salty, savoury... all mixed into one to form the complex dish known as adolescence. Finally, my train of thought came to its terminal; I opened my locker and carefully put in my books. “Hey Alex, you finished your piece for philosophy club yet?” I jump slightly. “Jesus, you scared me. Also, yes, I have.” “Alright, alright”, he answered playfully. I sensed a bit of defensiveness in his voice. “Are you still up for a movie night today? It’ll be a heck ton of fun. Do you prefer action, comedy or horror?” I felt my shoulders tense up, but luckily, I was able to conceal it from my friend. “Sorry, my dad won’t let me go”, I hurriedly replied, hoping he will move onto a different topic. “God, how come your dad never lets you out of the house?” Does he really think I know the answer to that question? Does he feed the illusion that my dad cares about me at all? Oh, that’s right. I never told anybody. “I don’t know”, I mumble. Just please leave me alone, I started begging in my mind. This is how it always is in school. Someone brings up something about my family and I’m forced to hide behind a mask of blissful ignorance. Unknowingly, I slammed the locker door shut. “Woah, chill there buddy. No need for such violence. Anyways, I’ll catch you later.” “See you later.” Relief washed over me like a wave brushes the sandy banks of its neighbour. Finally, after an unexpected distraction, I exited the school. Isn’t it curiously coincidental that “home” and “hell” both start with the same letter? The cold, dark entranceway quickly grasped me in its melancholic embrace. Letting only the minimal amount of light in, the small window in the sitting room ahead of me served as the only source of illumination. It gave a gentle, yet radiant outline to the worn-down furniture. The swamp- esque green and brown bottles that littered the floor reeked of beer, filling the house with the sour aroma of alcohol. Iris’ room is the second one on the left, located right behind my dad’s one. I knocked softly, careful not to startle her, and received a faint “Come in”. She was sitting slouched at her desk. Her long, chestnut hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, precious sapphire eyes carefully scanning the worksheet in front of her. Finally, Iris turned around to face me. “Hey. How was school?” I asked faintly. It’s a habit of ours at this point to keep our voices low. “Pretty well. Is he home?” ‘He’ — a pronoun used frequently between us to refer to a certain individual; our dad. “No”, I reassured her with a tepid smile. We decided to leave the conversation at that. I left to go to the kitchen, wanting to cobble together some dinner, which mainly consisted of noodles and hot tea ― staple foods in our household. A few hours passed before he returned home. And what a show he put on for us once again! Shakily, dad stumbled into the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. Incomprehensible slurs and curses left his vile mouth at a mind-blowing rate. Greasy hair, a disgusting unshaved face, dirt-covered shirt and trousers, bottle in hand; I’m appalled to call this creature my dad. Resembling a drunk bear, the male dragged his feet on the laminate flooring with awkward heaviness. He was heading for Iris’ room. Without warning, he barged in, like a medieval battering ram tearing down a castle portcullis. “It’s all your fault that I’m like this! Couldn’t you try to be a simpler god damn child to raise? Fucking hell, it’s all your fault I’m like this!” Abuse, vitriol, hatred, hitting, slapping. I’m sorry Iris. I feel pathetic not being able to help the only person close to me. I hate that I never heard her scream. The ear-splitting, chilling cry for help wasn’t present; the cliché was broken. At that moment, how used is she to his violence to not even make a sound? To completely block her vocal chords from doing their job? To endure it for god knows whose sake? I felt my blood boiling. This is wrong. “STOP!” Why did I shout? What is happening? I must stop, otherwise I’ll deeply regret my actions. “STOP, YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD!” Why am I walking to her room? What is happening? I have lost control over my body. My subconscious was evicted from its household, being replaced by blinding rage, a lust for revenge and irrational courage. I let these feelings take over me. “What did you say, brat? You want some too?” His voice was muffled and barely intelligible in my ears. Just then, I felt a sudden, swift movement of air centimetres from my head. The splitting sound of broken glass behind me confirmed it to be a beer bottle. Wasting no time, I lunged forward and directed my clenched right fist to his nose. He stumbled on his feet a bit but remained standing. My left hand was already aiming for his jaw, but dad reacted faster. He grabbed me by the collar, chucking me across the room. My head felt like it was split in half after the impact, but luckily there was no blood. Groaning, I tried pushing myself up on my elbows. At that moment, time froze in its eternal journey. My eyes absorbed my sister’s state. Iris hid herself in the corner of the room. I could tell she was crying even though her face was covered by her baggy, washed-out pink jumper. Her body was shaking, but still not a single sound escaped her. This sight brought me to action. Whether it was a courteous act of bravery or raw animal instinct, I did not know. Then, time abruptly sped up. I quickly saw the smashed bottle lying near the wall close to me. With a bit of effort, I sprung up and took it by the neck. Left leg forward, right leg forward, walking to jogging, jogging to running. I charged feverishly at dad and pushed the bottle right through his chest. The mercury liquid squirted from his heart, slowly coating the glass shards. Like petite rubies, small droplets plummeted to the ground. He collapsed, helplessly trying to stop the blood flow with his hand. Eventually, our tyrant stopped moving and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Death washed over his face, leaving its beautifully devastating mark behind. My breathing became deep and swift, sweat covered my forehead and trickled down my face slowly. I dropped the lethal weapon on the ground; my hands were shaking too much to continue holding it. What have I done? Iris whimpered from the corner of the room. I rushed to her side without a second thought. She put her head up and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my soles. The sapphires have shattered. They were bleeding transparently, colourlessly. These precious eyes were shedding uncontrollable tears. Tears that expressed confusion and relief, anxiety and hope. In short terms a whirlpool of emotions. “What’s going to become of us?” Iris asked in a weak voice. “I don’t know, but-” “Please tell me... it’s going to be fine, right? But how can it be fine? You’ve killed someone for God’s sake!” I didn’t think she had any energy left in her to faintly shout at me, yet it’s understandable. “Iris, please pull together!” I lightly, but firmly shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back to reality. “Look. There is always a tomorrow. No matter if you live in heaven or hell, this day ends and a new one begins...” I stopped shortly to look at her reaction. She was listening intently. I continued: “Our today was tainted with beating and hatred. Now our tomorrow suddenly became a beacon of light. We just have to adjust to its brightness.” The train of thought peacefully made it to its last stop. After a slight pause, Iris spoke up. “Well then. Let’s follow this light until it leads us out of this dark tunnel.” Bloody Alcohol The strident sound of the school bell awoke me from my whiteboard hypnotising trance. It took me a moment to come back to reality. Then, I slowly got out of my seat, brushed my bronze coloured hair out of my face and sighed lightly. Not wanting to spend any more time in the classroom I headed in the direction of my locker. The feeling of being lost in a crowd is quite a nice one, actually. Seeing a blur of colour and people before your eyes, knowing that the term “stranger” is mutual to the both of you, is a comforting thought. The murmuring freely jumps around the hallway, only rarely disturbed by teenage shouting. Just a short walk in that foyer, surrounded by friends and peers, and I was already able to taste the diverse flavours of youth. Sweet, sour, salty, savoury... all mixed into one to form the complex dish known as adolescence. Finally, my train of thought came to its terminal; I opened my locker and carefully put in my books. “Hey Alex, you finished your piece for philosophy club yet?” I jump slightly. “Jesus, you scared me. Also, yes, I have.” “Alright, alright”, he answered playfully. I sensed a bit of defensiveness in his voice. “Are you still up for a movie night today? It’ll be a heck ton of fun. Do you prefer action, comedy or horror?” I felt my shoulders tense up, but luckily, I was able to conceal it from my friend. “Sorry, my dad won’t let me go”, I hurriedly replied, hoping he will move onto a different topic. “God, how come your dad never lets you out of the house?” Does he really think I know the answer to that question? Does he feed the illusion that my dad cares about me at all? Oh, that’s right. I never told anybody. “I don’t know”, I mumble. Just please leave me alone, I started begging in my mind. This is how it always is in school. Someone brings up something about my family and I’m forced to hide behind a mask of blissful ignorance. Unknowingly, I slammed the locker door shut. “Woah, chill there buddy. No need for such violence. Anyways, I’ll catch you later.” “See you later.” Relief washed over me like a wave brushes the sandy banks of its neighbour. Finally, after an unexpected distraction, I exited the school. Isn’t it curiously coincidental that “home” and “hell” both start with the same letter? The cold, dark entranceway quickly grasped me in its melancholic embrace. Letting only the minimal amount of light in, the small window in the sitting room ahead of me served as the only source of illumination. It gave a gentle, yet radiant outline to the worn-down furniture. The swamp- esque green and brown bottles that littered the floor reeked of beer, filling the house with the sour aroma of alcohol. Iris’ room is the second one on the left, located right behind my dad’s one. I knocked softly, careful not to startle her, and received a faint “Come in”. She was sitting slouched at her desk. Her long, chestnut hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, precious sapphire eyes carefully scanning the worksheet in front of her. Finally, Iris turned around to face me. “Hey. How was school?” I asked faintly. It’s a habit of ours at this point to keep our voices low. “Pretty well. Is he home?” ‘He’ — a pronoun used frequently between us to refer to a certain individual; our dad. “No”, I reassured her with a tepid smile. We decided to leave the conversation at that. I left to go to the kitchen, wanting to cobble together some dinner, which mainly consisted of noodles and hot tea ― staple foods in our household. A few hours passed before he returned home. And what a show he put on for us once again! Shakily, dad stumbled into the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. Incomprehensible slurs and curses left his vile mouth at a mind-blowing rate. Greasy hair, a disgusting unshaved face, dirt-covered shirt and trousers, bottle in hand; I’m appalled to call this creature my dad. Resembling a drunk bear, the male dragged his feet on the laminate flooring with awkward heaviness. He was heading for Iris’ room. Without warning, he barged in, like a medieval battering ram tearing down a castle portcullis. “It’s all your fault that I’m like this! Couldn’t you try to be a simpler god damn child to raise? Fucking hell, it’s all your fault I’m like this!” Abuse, vitriol, hatred, hitting, slapping. I’m sorry Iris. I feel pathetic not being able to help the only person close to me. I hate that I never heard her scream. The ear-splitting, chilling cry for help wasn’t present; the cliché was broken. At that moment, how used is she to his violence to not even make a sound? To completely block her vocal chords from doing their job? To endure it for god knows whose sake? I felt my blood boiling. This is wrong. “STOP!” Why did I shout? What is happening? I must stop, otherwise I’ll deeply regret my actions. “STOP, YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD!” Why am I walking to her room? What is happening? I have lost control over my body. My subconscious was evicted from its household, being replaced by blinding rage, a lust for revenge and irrational courage. I let these feelings take over me. “What did you say, brat? You want some too?” His voice was muffled and barely intelligible in my ears. Just then, I felt a sudden, swift movement of air centimetres from my head. The splitting sound of broken glass behind me confirmed it to be a beer bottle. Wasting no time, I lunged forward and directed my clenched right fist to his nose. He stumbled on his feet a bit but remained standing. My left hand was already aiming for his jaw, but dad reacted faster. He grabbed me by the collar, chucking me across the room. My head felt like it was split in half after the impact, but luckily there was no blood. Groaning, I tried pushing myself up on my elbows. At that moment, time froze in its eternal journey. My eyes absorbed my sister’s state. Iris hid herself in the corner of the room. I could tell she was crying even though her face was covered by her baggy, washed-out pink jumper. Her body was shaking, but still not a single sound escaped her. This sight brought me to action. Whether it was a courteous act of bravery or raw animal instinct, I did not know. Then, time abruptly sped up. I quickly saw the smashed bottle lying near the wall close to me. With a bit of effort, I sprung up and took it by the neck. Left leg forward, right leg forward, walking to jogging, jogging to running. I charged feverishly at dad and pushed the bottle right through his chest. The mercury liquid squirted from his heart, slowly coating the glass shards. Like petite rubies, small droplets plummeted to the ground. He collapsed, helplessly trying to stop the blood flow with his hand. Eventually, our tyrant stopped moving and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Death washed over his face, leaving its beautifully devastating mark behind. My breathing became deep and swift, sweat covered my forehead and trickled down my face slowly. I dropped the lethal weapon on the ground; my hands were shaking too much to continue holding it. What have I done? Iris whimpered from the corner of the room. I rushed to her side without a second thought. She put her head up and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my soles. The sapphires have shattered. They were bleeding transparently, colourlessly. These precious eyes were shedding uncontrollable tears. Tears that expressed confusion and relief, anxiety and hope. In short terms a whirlpool of emotions. “What’s going to become of us?” Iris asked in a weak voice. “I don’t know, but-” “Please tell me... it’s going to be fine, right? But how can it be fine? You’ve killed someone for God’s sake!” I didn’t think she had any energy left in her to faintly shout at me, yet it’s understandable. “Iris, please pull together!” I lightly, but firmly shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back to reality. “Look. There is always a tomorrow. No matter if you live in heaven or hell, this day ends and a new one begins...” I stopped shortly to look at her reaction. She was listening intently. I continued: “Our today was tainted with beating and hatred. Now our tomorrow suddenly became a beacon of light. We just have to adjust to its brightness.” The train of thought peacefully made it to its last stop. After a slight pause, Iris spoke up. “Well then. Let’s follow this light until it leads us out of this dark tunnel.” |
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