Blurred Souls (Editing)

Chapter 7

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." – Khalil Gibran

**

Do you know those moments where the only solution that sounds perfect to your mind is laugh? They're called awkward moments.

It felt like I was in a nightmare, one words was echoing through my mind and I wanted to hold on something —anything to help me regulate my breaths and comprehend what was going on. No. No. No. He can't ruin her life like he did to mine. He can't ravage and rip her apart delibaretely until she's damaged and defined.

She would end up a mess and wish upon a star that tomorrow would be her last day to live. No more pain would be her everyday wish to survive.

Somehow, I managed to successfully control my emotions and put on a fake smile that I learned how to build throughout the years of living with him. It was a couple of days after my mother's death. I still remember every moment as if it was yesterday. He got home drunk after staying out the whole night, I remember being absolutely terrified of being alone. When he came back, I had already set a small dinner for him and went to hug him.

One. Two. Three. He had stared at me with nothing but rage and disgust in his eyes. And it happened, his first first colliding with my cheek. It was the only time I ever cried when he abused me. After that, I learned how to smile or laugh everyone his fist approached.

My mind may begin to race to several worst-case scenarios in seconds. Was she aware of his actions? Did she accept him despite his abusive behaviour? Or was she using him for his money? If it was the latter then I had to take off my hat to her and mutter a 'chapeo'. Please be smart.

If she wasn't, I needed to use another method. Make her hate me — even if it meant bruises later on. She shouldn't face what I was going through. No one should. No one. I wouldn't wish this life upon anyone—not even my worst enemy.

"The Old Man and His Young Mistress," I said, impressed, "sorry excuse my French, soon-to-be fiancée."

" Try to keep your jokes to yourself, sweetheart." I was impressed by his acting skills and if I weren't the main character in story and his favourite target, I would've totally believed him. "Let's go inside, come on baby." He placed his hand around her waist protectively like he always did with mum before. Everything has changed. I felt a shudder of disgust of the scene in front of me.

Is there any auditions calls for a man with bad breath and wrathful smile ? Because this man in front of me deserves an Oscar for his acting skills. I think I might shed a tear at his tremendously romatic behaviour.

"Daddy, last time I checked you were making out with another mistress-excuse my french I mean lady."

He glared at me,"My heart belongs to a specific angel."

"I've heard this line. Where did I hear it from?" I pretended to think for a second. "Oh wait, this line was exactly what you said to mum. " I was glad David wasn't his abusive self when he was married to my mum. I was glad she was happy before she... left. My hatred for my step-father was pretty intense. In my hatred, I was lost. And evil took my hatred and used to spark the fires of my own undoing.

"She was such a great woman, but unfortunately she passed away," he said as he began to walk,"she'll always be in our heart."

"I'm sure she was." The lady agreed. It was the first time she spoke and I realised her voice was nothing like how I expected. It was penetrating and her emotions were masked behind heavy make-up look. I hope she isn't sarcastic or I would end up killing her with my bare hands.