Five Favours

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The end is near

-I wanted to die.

Although It was a feeling that I had previously had this time it was different, looking at my bruised body it was all I could fathom. I picked up a razor, my whole body was trembling. Was I about to do this? Was I going to die like this?

Blood clung unto my body as if it was my second skin, my mum died and he had killed her.

THE PRESENT (Five months later)

My dad’s beating in the house had become more and more frequent. Soon I couldn’t make it seem like it was my fault. How was it my fault his team lost a game? Or that my mum was dead? Or that the chicken he made burnt?

I was outside the door, but I couldn’t open it, I was late. My dad didn’t like late, but the more I stood there contemplating more time passed. So I took hold of the door as hard as my weak body could fathom. I was disgusting everything he did I deserved, but at the same time, I knew I didn’t deserve everything he did to me. This contradiction stayed in my head a lot. Did I deserve it? Was he right?

My hands were clammy, my whole face was pale and stone cold. When I finally opened the door, the stench of alcohol blocked all my airways.

The house, as usual, was a mess and I would have to clean it again. Food in the fridge was scarce which was easy to detect as the fridge was wide open. When my dad was drunk his hits, although sloppy, were extremely deadly. So anxiety, instead of blood pumped through my veins. I quietly made my way upstairs, my bruised body almost clung to the railings for its dear life.

I did it.

He had not seen, heard, or even smelt me. I was safe, I felt great like I could conquer the world. Maybe this is what happiness felt like, even though one might think I was overly dramatic. Getting hits from my dad day in day out caused exhaustion. Every single week he would find something to be mad about, it was so bad I had almost no time to mourn my mum.

Ponderous footsteps took me out of my train of thought, it was funny really, that I assured myself that I wasn’t going to get caught. I flung myself unto the door with all the strength I could muster. Tears slowly trickled down my eyes, before it was replaced by sheer panic. The house shook as a loud bang was emitted from the other side of the door.

Although my hands were shaking, I had time to lock the door. Yet I was not suicidal enough to try to escape. After his body slammed the door the fifth time, the door was ajar. The heavy stench of alcohol that was radiating off him was very hard to miss. His once clean-shaven face was replaced with a grubby beard.

" Why are you late?”

“I’m sorry I had things after...”

“Do you wish that I died?” I was perplexed by the question.

“What? No!”

“Then why do you never listen to me,”

“I’m sorry, please don’t get mad, don’t hit me.”

“I do this because I love you, your mum died you’re all I have, you are very important so I need to... I need to train you.”

“What? Train me for what?”

“Shut up!”

His legs jammed me in my gut, leaving me gasping for air, my stomach

My father struck me again and again, his fist a merciless hammer. Agony wracked my body, which was already riddled with black and purple bruises. Anguish racked my soul, cry after cry tearing its way from his lungs.

When would it end?

When would the abuse stop?

When would he continue being my father again?

“Dad please, stop. I’m so, so sorry.” I whimpered through tears

“I said shut up, kozyol!” my father barked.

His hand struck me, once, twice, five times across the face, leaving a tender pink mark across my cheek. I brought a hand up to touch it delicately. I watched tears prick his eyes as he turned and quietly shuffled away.

When he left, soft sobs escaped my mouth and, my little world came caving in on me. I quietly stayed there for a few minutes, my legs up and my knees to my chest. I was stationary as if moving a finger would bring him back.

Tears streamed down my now rosy cheeks, and my incompetent body was not able to make a noise or even wipe the tears away. It was then I noticed I hadn’t eaten in a day or so. I was so famished that now my stomach was slowly eating itself.

“I’m sorry,” My dad stood at the doorway, his big frame struggling to even fit his white shirt.

“Dad why? Why did you hit me?” This was a risky question and I quivered hoping that he wouldn’t hit me for it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“You look so much like her-” he paused presumably to think of what to say next. ” It-Its hard, knowing she’s gone forever, living without her. I’m sorry but you have to understand how hard it is.” Although my dad has lived out of Russia for more than ten years, his Russian accent, although almost faded was still quite prominent.

I slowly stood up, my legs having to adjust to the new sudden action. A new wave of hunger took over me, and in my state of complete euphoria, I forgave him.

“It’s fine,” I murmured not daring to look up at him. “can we order something?” I quickly uttered wanting to change the subject.

“I’ll order your favorite stirfry from the Chinese place.”

“Wait? what! really?” I was beyond shocked at his offer.

“Yeah anything for you, you’re all I have left.” He took a deep sigh “and I’m not going to let you go.”

Bipolar much, you were beating me two seconds ago.

The bell rang, waking me up from my haze.

“I’ll get it!” I roared, racing down the stairs. Thinking about the stir-fry awaiting me downstairs.

The wooden door was opened revealing Cole and Theo.

“Guys this isn’t the right time.”

It was already too late both of them had already barged in.

“Since you couldn’t attend the meeting after class, and missed detention you wouldn’t know...” Theo announced

“We’re in a group project,” Cole interrupted shooting daggers at Theo. Wonder what’s going on there, I thought they were quite close.

“Ok, we’ll start tomorrow, but you guys have to go right now.”

“No, They should stay” My dad stated calmly throwing a glance my way which translated to, yes you guessed right, I was up for another round later today.

“Why do you have bruises on your arm?” Theo asked confused, his eyes laying on my purple bruising on my arm, then going to the mark on my cheek.

For goodness sake. Why couldn’t he just be quiet?

Sorry for pulling the ‘before’ for a long while only a few chapters then all of you will be utterly surprised about what the future holds

What do you think of this chapter?

What would you do if you were in her dire situation at the end?

(If there any grammatical errors I missed, please let me know)

Thank you for reading, next update in 5 days ish.

*kozyol- it literally means goat but translates to something like "asshole" (I'm not Russian so if it was used in the wrong context let me know)

words- 1,300 (08/03/2021)

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