THE BROKEN MAN: Asher The smell of smoke and sweat clung to my skin like a blanket. I was ten years old, but at that moment, I felt like I'd been born a thousand years ago. My eyes, once bright and full of wonder, had witnessed the unthinkable. I huddled in the corner of our cramped, dingy apartment, my ears ringing from the sound of my mother's screams. My father's face, twisted in a snarl, loomed over me like a ghost. I trembled, my small body wracked with sobs, as I watched him deliver blow after blow to my mother's fragile form. My sister, Emily, just six years old, clung to me, her eyes wide with terror. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to shield her from the horror unfolding before us. But I couldn't shield her from the truth: our parents were monsters, and we were their prey. In that moment, something inside me shattered. The innocence of childhood, the trust in those who were supposed to protect me – all of it was reduced to rubble. I knew, in that instant, that I w
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-01-08 Read More