My Damn Salvation

Lea’s point of view:

I held onto yet another letter which I had written today. My hands were trembling in fear. Should I post it tomorrow on the same address with no hope for any answers from my mom? Why is my life so different? Why can’t I have a simple and normal life with my parents? Why did my mom leave me? When will she come back? I squeezed my swollen eyes tightly to hold in the tears which were fighting their way to flow down my wet cheeks. No more crying. I have to be strong.

I jumped out of fright when I heard the doorbell ring. Could it be my father? I sat up in bed hyperventilating and looking everywhere. I felt everything moving around in my room. I glanced at my little red clock and focused on it to see clearly. It was past midnight.

I slowly got up and made my way towards the living room to open the door. I was trembling with fear. I was breathing heavily but I knew that I had to open the door. Even if it was my cruel father, I had to open the door to let him in; otherwise he wouldn’t let me alone without giving me any more pains.

What if it isn’t my father? What if it is some stalker or a creep? I went completely still. What if it is a sadist? What if it is a killer? My dad wouldn’t have rang up the doorbell. He has the house keys.

Suddenly, the doorbell stopped ringing. I huffed a sigh of relief. There was complete silence. I went to check if the door was well closed. I gulped down and perched down to check through the key hole.

I yelped and fell down on the ground when someone began tapping the door furiously and repeatedly. I wiped at the tears flowing down my cheeks. I did not realize when I began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Lea Annabelle McCartney, open the goddamn door right away or I swear you are gonna get your shitty ass beaten from me.'' I gasped when I heard my dad yelling furiously. He punched the wooden door with such a force that it caused a dent on the door from outside.

I gasped loudly and scrambled to my feet. I grabbed the keys with my trembling hands and tried to open the door with my quivering fingers. Soon I found the right key and swung the door open, ready to explain to my father that I thought that it was someone else at the door but I did not get time to react to block the punch thrown at my face. I screamed and fell on my back.

“Please dad, I’m so - " I whimpered when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and began dragging me in towards the living room. I kept thrashing around, in hope that I might escape from him.

“Please dad - '' I screamed in pain when he threw me on the sofa violently that I bounced up and fell down on my face, knocking my head with one of the legs of the little squared table in the middle of the arranged sofas.

I felt my head spinning and felt like vomiting after being man-handled like that. I felt something hot streaming down across my face. I touched my forehead and drew back to see blood has covered my fingers. My father grabbed my chin tightly and shook my face. He then slapped me hard on my left cheek. He was so heartless.

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. You are not my daughter and I am not your fucking dad, you fucking whore.” My father screamed and slapped me again. I kept telling him to stop but he turned out to be a savage animal set out to kill.

My hysterical screams soon turned out into wailing sobs. My father continued his assault on me and then I felt too weak to fight back. I just laid there letting my father take out his anger on me.

“Go to hell!'' my father punched and kicked me in my stomach for one last time and left me alone to suffer. I heard his steps padded away and then heard the bang of his closed bedroom door.

I struggled to get up. I cried out in pain as my breath gurgled wetly in my throat. My eyes were widely opened and felt blank. Tears kept flowing down my cheeks and I was breathing in shallow, panting gasps. I got up slowly but fell down again. I sucked on my own breath as a spasm of pain shot through me. I closed my eyes to ride out the waves of agony. My forehead was pressed to the cold floor as I pushed myself up. 

I tried getting up again. I grabbed the legs of the table and hoisted myself up. With a terrible cry, I managed to get up. I ached with stiffening bruises on my entire body.

I stumbled all my way to my room. When I finally reached my bedroom door, after hundreds times of moaning and groaning in pain, I closed my door lightly, afraid to disturb my father, and locked it. My head was spinning and I found it hard to walk the remaining steps to my bed. Without wiping off the blood clotted on my forehead, I got in bed and pretty soon, I felt myself slipping in a dreamless sleep.

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I woke up with sunlight streaming through my curtains the next morning. I groaned with pain and tried to get up but I kept on whimpering in pain. I felt the dried blood on my forehead and grimaced in pain.

Where are you mom? Why haven’t you come back yet? You told me you will be back. I miss you a lot mom. I grabbed the chain around my neck, clutched it tightly with my right fisted hand and kept it on my chest, near my heart. I was crying again. This is what I have been doing since my mom left me alone with my father. I became vulnerable and felt weak. I couldn’t do anything to escape my father’s wrath. He is such a cruel man. No matter how much I try to think of him as my own biological father, I still cannot believe that this man is really my father. There should not be any father beating his own child like my own father is doing but even if there are other fathers physically assaulting their children like this, they do not deserve to be called a man. 

This chain is the last memory I have of my mother. She gave it to me when she went away that night. I still remember that night clear as day as if it happened yesterday. That night is so raw and engraved in my mind that forgetting that bitter memory will take years, more so than it already took and yet, I have not forgotten one bit of it.