Angel Of Dawn

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Blaire 》

Running down the staircase in front of my bedroom, I grab a framed picture of my father and mother before I was born with my mother's bare pregnant belly showing with a dark vertical line resting in the middle with an outie. I quickly throw it at my father, internally saying a hundred sorrys to my mother for my bad actions.

He dodges it, only for it to go crashing down on the wooden tiles with the glass scattering everywhere. I let out a cry when I notice my father had started chasing after me much faster now with only more and more anger. "I'm gonna kill you, you little shit!" One of the huge thin yet big pieces of glass had fell right on the next step I was taking, but before I could skip it, I step right on it and the glass penitrates my skin.

I seriously need to stop using these stupid stairs. Defenestrating myself sounds a heck of a lot safer to me now than using these doomed stairs of hell.

I scream -cry as I find myself falling to the floor. I land on my side, my hip bone taking all the hardness of the floor whilst I'm trying to make a run for it before he gets to me. His loud, obnoxious footsteps get increasingly louder and louder. His scent intoxicates my lungs as he crouches down to my level. He reekes of alcohol. He smells like the vodka he always drink. I take a sniff of his smell to decipher the brand and I let out a shaky sigh between my sobs when I realize it's pinnacle. The lemon one to be precise. I'm getting too good at this game, it's almost sad.

Ok, not almost. It's just sad.

I hate it. I hate his smell so much. It's pathetic how much envy I carry towards a scent. But every time I smell it, I just know something bad it is going to happen to me in two point zero seconds. So I guess it's just came to me subconsciously. I can barely see anything from the haze in my vision and the hair blocking my view, not to mention it's stuck to my cheeks, damp from my flowing tears.

I'd rather him be yelling at me right now. Him being quiet is slowly killing me more than his beatings and harsh words. I flinch back as I feel his hand brush my cheeks, then tucking the hair that was in front of my peripherals behind my left ear. "Please," I sob, my lip guiffering, so I bite down on my bottom lip to prevent it a bit. I shut my eyes and aim my face down so I won't have to face him, I don't want to see the disappointment in them anymore, I want this to be over with. "I'm sorry." I apologize quietly. Then I realize, at some point during our lovely interaction, I had laid on my back. Leaving me the only one option which is to shut my eyes and pray this doesn't go too painfully.

"Open your eyes, Blaire." His voice is collected and calm. Making me feel closer to my demise than I already was.

Wha- Oh heck no, I ain't doing that.

I whimper as i feel his hand brush some more hair off my face. "Open. Your eyes." He says with more force in his voice, his words come out somewhat seething. I only shut my eyes stronger. I feel him moving away, his scent not forced upon my nostrils anymore, which makes me feel more tense than before, weirdly.

"Open your goddamn eyes!" He shouts, making my eyes crack open so I won't anger him any longer. My eyes widen like the eyes of an owl when I see his foot backing away as if going to kick a soccer ball. I quickly shield my face with my arms, but even bracing with my arms couldn't reduce the force from his kick.

I gasp as my vision clears. My eyebrows furrow as I look around in my room. My room? But I was just downstairs getting beat like lamb on a stick. How did I get here? I blink rapidly, trying to make my eyes adjust to the darkness of my room. Once I do, I completely tense when I see someone sitting on the chair in the corner of my room. Letting out a yelp and running from my place next to the window to open the light in the bathroom with fright. Usually, I'd freeze whenever it gets too dark for me to see, but I have no idea where this newfound bravery came from. I hate the dark, so running like that when I cannot see a stable ground is a big risk for me.