House of Horrors

The sounds of shouting within her household never scared her; it was the silence. The only time it consoled her was when the darkness embraced her with it. At thirteen, she held onto hope despite living in nightmares, but her life—and her younger brother Ridge’s—ended before it began. She would replay the same scene over and over again, covered in someone’s blood, someone she could barely recognise– a face so tormented and brutally beaten, she was sure she was weeping in a stranger’s pool of blood. The silence was deafening, even if she was wailing her sorrows for the whole neighborhood to listen in peace with the monster standing behind her.

“WHAT DID YOU- YOU DO?!” She sobbed, her hands trembling viciously between her brother’s fingers. She could feel the warmth she once loved and held onto her whole life disappear with each shaky breath he took, slowly embarking on his journey to death. Each breath her brother took was a step closer to a life without his sister. And she was one step closer to dying as well. Her head snapped towards the monster still behind her, hand gripping a broken beer bottle so tight that his knuckles were white. Her father, Derek, had eyes filled with fury and contentment, mixed with fulfillment like he’d reached his life’s purpose. And Lila knew they were always powerless against him, even with her mother close enough to strangle Derek, but she never did. Whether it was out of fear or trauma, her mother never fought back against anyone. She vowed after giving birth to Ridge, she’d never fight back against her husband ever again to protect her children and herself. Although she realized too late, she was only harming them more.

Even through Lila’s blurred vision and liquid spreading around her body, her mind horrifically screamed at her to grab a phone and dial emergency services before it was too late. So she did, with no one but her dad to stop her. Like usual, her mother stood frozen in a corner staring at her brother’s body in shock. Derek lunged toward Lila in the same violent manner he did to Ridge thirty minutes ago, with the same intentions in mind– to kill or to punish. But Lila wasn’t scared; she was tired of feeling scared and worthless. She was exhausted from being belittled by Derek and filled with fury for not doing anything sooner to prevent this situation from happening, but in Derek’s mind, it was inevitable. She snatched the landline phone with her trembling hands, fearing that the phone would slip from her grip at any time. Derek screamed and began throwing a tantrum around her, punching air and trying to yank her hair as he would do daily, but Lila was running off pure adrenaline and rage she felt so high off of, she wasn’t afraid of the monster in her house anymore.

The tone dialed as Derek grinned, chuckling, knowing he was defeated, but fulfilled his purpose.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My–my–Derek-he– he…” the words became jumbled in her mouth, her mind speeding so fast, her mouth couldn’t compute what to say first, “He murdered my brother.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Li–Lila Brookes, address at 95 Cedar Drive in Knoll.” Derek was still maniacally laughing at the sight of Lila weeping, eyes red and swollen with bruises beneath the layers of long sleeves she wore to conceal it, the eight-year-old son he killed out of spite, and his best work– his wife. The wife who surrendered her life and dignity to him so he could accomplish everything in front of him, the beer in his hand signifying a trophy.

“I’m sending three police cars out. They’ll be there in two minutes. Stay on the line. Can you check your brother’s pulse? Tell me how it feels.”

“He’s– he’s,” the words couldn’t come out of her mouth. It was physically impossible for her to spew out the reality because it was something– out of all the day-nightmares she came up with– she’d never imagined happening before, “dead.”

Something within her snapped, a part of herself lost alongside her brother, while Derek clung to the last fleeting moments of his dream. The other side was as silent as it was in her household, which only made Lila more uneasy than she’d ever felt before.

The door shot open, three policemen accompanying the silence which disappeared with their appearance. It happened all too fast for Lila. The paramedics confiscated her brother’s body, Derek still laughing, willing to give himself up to the police like it was his duty. And her mom, still in that corner she loved, maybe because it was a safe space, staring at the blood staining itself on the dirty carpet. Lila jolted at the touch of a paramedic, who took her outside to the ambulance. Eyes drove holes into her back, her neighbors all looking in horror and awe at the scene until it was taped off as a crime scene and evidence.

Her fingers twitched when the ghost of someone’s touch swept past her. Her gaze looked up to see her mom with watering eyes. For the first time, Lila let herself do something she’d only seen in TV shows– hold hands with her mom. She held her hand to steady herself, grounded her mom in reality, and to console each other as they saw the monster of their household being taken away by the police. It’d only taken them thirteen years to do so. Her soaked-through shorts haunted her, swaying against her skin when the wind blew them closer to her, reminding her of the horrors she’d witnessed.

“Mrs. and Ms. Wicker, would you come with us to the police station? We need to get your statements about what happened. You’re witnesses on this case now.” Both Lila and her mom nodded before being escorted into the back of a police car. Still intertwining their fingers, her mother exhaled a shaky breath she’s held ever since her wedding day. Lila, on the other hand, purposefully held her breath, wanting to feel whatever pain Ridge felt when he was lying on the floor before dying a painful death with no help around them. The helplessness still clawed at Lila, who was holding her breath. She wanted the pain; she wanted to suffer the way Ridge did because she did not help. She didn’t succeed in saving her little brother she swore she’d protect; if she had succeeded, she believed she could have the privilege of breathing again.

Then darkness overtook her consciousness.

When she woke, she was on a stretcher at an unfamiliar place, the police station. She was told it was safe, that police were trustworthy people, but fathers were also perceived that way.

“Ms. Wicker? You’re needed in the room,” a lady with wrinkle creases between her eyebrows instructed. Lila observed she was a late-50s, early-60s lady, ushering her inside the room despite her state she was in. She didn’t mind, though, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, energizing her to do anything despite the trauma she’d endured.

“Could you tell me what happened in chronological order?” The lady scooched a glass of water towards Lila as if it were to offer her any consolation after the events she witnessed.

“I-” the words were stuck again, angry that now was the time that speaking up mattered, and she couldn’t.

“Take your time, it’s okay.”

But it didn’t feel okay. That statement– even delivered sweetly– felt hostile to her.

“It was…it was…I was napping,” she paused, forcing her thoughts to relive her worst nightmare, “It was silent, dark. It was comforting because Derek would never dare to disrupt our sleep. Until I heard silent muffles of…of– my brother– he was..was screaming.” Her eyes involuntarily filled with tears, pouring down her face when she didn’t feel an ounce of emotion in her. “It’s usual, um, in our household. I just– I just rolled over. I…” she began sobbing, bile daring to come through her mouth when she spoke the words, “I ignored the screams. The terrified screams of my brother because I thought it was just another round of Derek being…Derek.”

“And…” the kind lady took time to ask questions with delicacy as if Lila were to break at any time. What she didn’t understand was that she was already broken, “Derek is your father?”

“No–” she cut her off quickly, “he’s not my father. I will never consider him my father. He’s a stranger, someone who abuses us every– every day.”

“...I’m sorry for that.”

“I-I’m sorry– I’ll continue–”

Soft, warm hands that reminded Lila of her brother engulfed her hands gently, but she still flinched, memories flooding back.

“Maybe we should take a break, I’ll come back–”

“No, please. Please,” she whispered again, “I just want to get this over with…”

“Alright, if you’re really okay, continue on.”

“When Ridge, my brother, fell silent, the whole house was silent at ten in the morning. Something that never happened. When the silence comes, it’s never a good sign. I got up…up from my bed, and when I saw Derek, he was… drinking the bottle and cracked it on the side of his head. My brother–oh my god, Ridge’s eyes were so swollen, and I stood in the hallway just staring.” Lila began to weep, sniffling away the wave of pain and shame that washed over her. “But I actually fought my dad, I–I– for the first time I fought. I fought, I fought,” her words turned into whimpers as the elderly lady looked at her remorsefully, sadness visible in her eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna throw up,” Lila retched over the seat onto the floor, her whole body still trembling from adrenaline she had and her mind reeling through every moment she’s ever felt terrified, comparing it to when she actually fought against him, for her brother, who will now be buried six feet underground.

The elderly woman forced her gently to take a break from the trauma she had to relive for the authorities to understand the order of events from each perspective. It took ten minutes for Lila to regroup herself and her stomach for her to continue.

“Derek shoved me to the wall, and I felt the air get knocked out of my lungs. It typically takes me thirty seconds to regain, but this time, he was so angry. I couldn’t breathe for a minute. And my mom just stood in her corner and stared.” She took a quivering breath before continuing, “I couldn’t help… so then when I regained air, my brother was lying on the floor… dying.”

“And your mother… “When you lived through Derek’s abuse, did she help him?”

“No,” Lila answered simply, “She stared and watched. She never moved. Barely talked. I forgot what her voice sounded like.”

“Lila…” The elderly woman was pained to say such things to such a young child like Lila, who had endured so much trauma in little time. It was the safest option, she kept reiterating to herself like a mantra before spitting out the news that she thought would break Lila, “You’ll be moved into the foster care system. If you consent, the lawyers would like to have you testify as a witness against your— Derek.”

“I’d like that,” she simply replied. Secretly, she’d dreamt of the moment she could escape her household. “When will I join?”

“A week. Your mom will be sent to a women’s shelter with psychological help; she won’t be in a healthy mental state for a while and won’t be able to support you financially.”

“Okay,” Lila simply said, staring at the faded purple bruise blossomed on her wrist with the remaining specs of blood she was unable to wash off.

********

Two years later, Lila was accustomed to the ritual of foster homes. The first foster home she’d been sent to when she was thirteen was a Swedish family who had seven children of mixed races, but ultimately concluded that they wouldn’t be able to support her needs well enough, considering her history. The next rejected her when seeing her last name, Wicker. The daughter of a killer. The daughter of a monster. She understood her reasoning. If she were in their position, she would reject herself, too. The third family was one she lasted with the longest. They had no children, and the mother was incapable of birthing a child; the father was infertile, so they resorted to adoption agencies.

The mother was a child psychologist, while the father worked as an elementary school teacher at their local elementary school. Lila turned fifteen a month ago after spending almost a year with two adults whom she wanted to consider her parents, but knew nothing lasts forever.

The abuse didn’t last forever. Her brother didn’t last forever. Her pain didn’t last forever. Her mother was never a mother.

So what made her think she deserved a loving family?

That Christmas, her family gifted her the present of legal adoption papers, taking her as their own, along with a last name change to Babich, her new parents’ names. She confessed to her mother one day that she felt unsafe and still haunted by Derek’s last name. It was the first time she revealed that, and she didn’t regret it. Her home was safe.