Stella Romilly's pov,PastI watched as the police rushed up to me. A policewoman moved the quickest. I watched her tag dangle in front of her left breast as she had me in focus. The policewoman bent down in front of me-the contact of her knees to the floor sounded like crushing rocks, and asked politely. The cold wind blew her hair to her side and blushed her plump cheeks. I stared at the plump woman. They had received a cue that my father had abused me. Just by one look, I was sure people would have thought I was severely dehydrated and starved. My lips lacked moisture and my hair moved in thin waves, barely upholding the impact of the chill wind. The policewoman steadied herself, considering her words carefully. “Darling,” she caught my attention.Very carefully.“Do you happen to know where your father is?” she asked. As if talking to a child who might run away at the slightest provocation of sound.My head shook. Not in denial. But in fear. “What are you going to do to him?
Stella Romilly's pov,PastI looked around me. We stood in the compound where a lot of cars were laid. There were at least three other policemen behind the woman, all waiting for confirmation before taking action. “She needs privacy,” Hannah interjected. The policewoman looked around before directing her attention to me again. Her gaze then moved from my face to my teacher's. “Can you please find a spot for us?” she asked. My teacher nodded repeatedly as she guided all of us through the exit of the compound into the corridors of the school. We walked for a while then paused. I noted this route as it was quite familiar now. We entered the room we previously did. The wooden slab lay exactly where I saw it. Its rough edge never ceasing to urge me. We walked further into the room and Hannah whispered to me. “I will be right here when you need me.”She pointed to one corner of the room, indicating her need to be as invisible and uninterruptive as possible during my interrogation. I h
Stella Romilly's pov,Past“And this..” I continued, pointing at one diagonal scar that filled the holes in my back. Almost crossing to my stomach. It was shaped like a sword cut. One so deep. “My father told me I was being naughty. He was smelling nasty and he was drinking alcohol and smoking. I told him that I learned that drinking and smoking wasn't a good thing to do.” I explained. “But he got angry and threw a knife at me. I couldn't escape it. It sliced through my shirt and cut my skin,”I shook my head, trying to push the memory back. “Those are the scars I've gotten recently,” I finalized, making to pick up the bits of dresses that were left on the floor.I turned to them. Tears in my teacher's eyes. Anger in the other woman's eyes. “Are you crying for me?” I asked completely terrified. “Don't cry,” I said, attempting to wipe her tears.“That's maltreatment.” I heard Hannah mutter. She looked like she was staring at the scars over again and this time she saw clearly. H
Antonio Dante's pov,FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,I had been in the cell of a room. I watched the distant sunlight peek through my window indicating the presence of a window. At least my father was decent enough to put a window in my room even though it was barely a window. It stood scrunched up from the side with its sill a rusted mixture of red and yellow, hints of black and brown hoarded hinting its once bright color. There was a rubber attached to it that blew with the breeze of the daylight. And through the light that glistened through the tattered windows, I saw shattered pieces of glasses. My head raised a little just to peek. I didn't dare get up from where I stood. I had been in the same position all night afraid I would nudge a supposed dead body. Speaking of a dead body, I searched the vast room with my eyes. The light from the sun was doing nothing to aid me. It shone on one place only leaving the rest for the imagination. The space on my right ahead of me was totally pitch black. T
Stella Romilly's pov,Past.On my first day of school. My father. Captured. Thrown into the police car. And I watched. When he threw me a murderous look. I got goosebumps. I was starting to regret my decision.Maybe I should have kept quiet and never showed my scars. I stared at Hannah. Hannah was hurting my hand. She was holding it so hard I was sure I would get bruises. But I didn't care. As long as I was in contact with someone who seemed trustworthy.“Tell them you got yourself hurt Stella,” his forced whisper had scared me. My mind was filled with his afflictions. There was a full picture and not one was a fragment. Blood wasn't flowing through my veins. It was frozen. My heart had stopped. I stood still, looking at him. I could feel a green vein pop out of my neck. At least I wasn't scared he was going to touch me. He was handcuffed. “Tell them you were being naughty,” he pleaded. His eyes were frantic and red from drugs and he reeked of alcohol. He thought he looked
Stella Romilly's pov,Past. “Stella!”I was already turned to her, squinting my eyes in an invisible sun. She was panting and stopped right in front of me with her hands on her knees. “Stella,” she managed as she tried to control her breathing as quickly as possible, the information too urgent on her lips. “Stella, you..” she halted, running her hands through her hair. “You called the police,” she muttered as a sign of an almost finished breath and she thought I hadn't heard her so she repeated herself. “You called the police. You called the police.”“I-”“I did,” a mature female voice spoke from my side. “I called the police.“ she emphasized. My mother's pale eyes worked her way up to the woman in question. “You did?” she asked. As if she wanted to know who did. A look of horror crossed her sharp features and she turned to me.“Why did you call the police?” His mouth hung low as she stared at me as if I was the one. My teacher placed a protective hand in front of me and pushe
Antonio Dante's pov. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,There was a knock that interrupted my thoughts. From atop the staircases, there was shuffling of chains. Clinking of metals. A loud noise that could be heard even from the basement I thought was soundproof. A pair of blue eyes peeked, her dark brown hair falling behind. My mother. “Antonio?”No answer. I just sat there, stunned by how long she took to see me. “Antonio, are you there?”The window had cast a shadow on me camouflaging me completely.“Ant-”“I'm here.”She jumped, startled. I saw her clear her throat as a way of composing herself before gently making her way inside. “Took you long enough huh?” I muttered. She closed the door and opened it immediately. Her face scrunched up as she shakily descended scanning around. “I'm sorry Antonio. Your father won't let me see yo- goodness what's that smell?”She looked into the darkness as she placed her hands over her nose tightly, contemplating whether she should breathe. I couldn't
Stella Romilly's pov,Past.I stood there while I listened to my mom’s scolding. Telling me I messed everything up.“I'm sorry to intervene but she was abused.”My teacher stretched the last part ‘abused’ to hint to my mother that it was a problem. But my mother was far from listening to her. “Go.”She grabbed my hand.“Go tell them you were lying.”“That you hurt yourself.”“Go tell them,” She was about to lead me to what I would presume was the police station when my teacher fully intervened. “No. She isn't going anywhere,” she said sternly grabbing my other hand and pulling it back. “Your child has been abused and the offender has been put behind bars. I don't know why you keep telling her to lie but I won't tolerate you traumatizing her any further.”Flower blossomed in my heart and I felt full. I had never experienced this kind of love from my teacher. Was this what they called motherly love?It was nice. My mother turned towards my teacher and stared at her deep into her s