Shadow

I was five when I first saw it happen. Before that day, it was only muffled sounds and screams. I would stand by the door and listen to her sobs, long after he was gone. She would shake her head when I ask about the bruises. Her beautiful face, the first thing I loved about her. Her hair, long and soft with curly bangs cut above her right eyebrow. Her eyes, deep green as mine, glinting with humour and protected by long lashes. Her full lips, tilting upwards on both sides whenever she smiled. I watched that smile fade but I never understood until that night. It was my birthday. I had sneaked into her room and into her bed. She had held me while I snuggled and buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent. That was when I heard the footsteps. I left her sleeping and hid under the bed. Recognising his temper, I knew he wouldn’t be happy to see me there, and that meant leaving the back of his big hands across my face. Then I watched him pin her down. “You’re mine to do as I please,” he said as he tore her clothes and punched her. I closed my eyes, trying to block the screams and failing. That was the day I began to hate him. I never knew the word rape but I understood everything. That was also the day I stopped calling him father. Fifteen years later and nothing had changed. There were no more screams and bruises, only a woman sitting and staring into space. Sometimes, she would smile when I talked to her. Unlike what most people believed, I knew it wasn’t my mother I saved but the remnants of her shadow. Maybe I waited too long.

My entry for @vermillionfox's one paragraph flash fiction contest. View here

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