The Evil That Came

Part 5: Victoria

Victoria's days were a relentless cycle of confinement. Locked inside her room, she became an unwilling witness to the symphony of cruelty that echoed through the walls. The air carried curses—sharp and venomous—trading places between man and boy, boy and man: each slap, each whip's cruel kiss against the flesh.

Her sanctuary was a prison, her bedroom, but safer than the world beyond. Outside her door, the world was ablaze with torment. Victoria's mother left for work, unknowingly leaving the children with hate incarnate. The house absorbed her absence, leaving Victoria alone with the ghosts of pain.

After her father left for the local bar late, the door pad to her room trembled. Victoria's breath hitched, and fear clung to her like a second skin. "Open the door," the voice commanded. It was not angry, not joyful—just a chilling calm that sent shivers down her spine.

The door swung open, revealing a face etched in malevolence. It was him—the boy who wore cruelty like a crown—her brother. The very sight of him twisted her insides. She longed to say she didn't know him, that he was a stranger. But truth gnawed at her—the boy who tormented her even in his absence was family.

His eyes bore into hers, devoid of remorse. He stepped over the threshold, bringing with him the same viciousness that haunted her nightmares. Victoria's room, once a refuge, now embodied her nightmare in the flesh. She wondered if her dreams were merely reflections of her waking reality—a relentless loop of pain and fear.

Victoria's heart clenched. She had no escape from this living nightmare. The door stood open, but freedom remained elusive. Her brother's presence was a curse she couldn't shake—a relentless reminder that some demons wore familiar faces. And so, she braced herself for another onslaught, her solitude shattered by the boy who exemplified her darkest fears. 

Victoria felt as if her world had crashed.

"How did you open the door?" asked Victoria, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Viktor smiled with malice glossed across his lips.

"I broke it," he said calmly and flexed his fingers.

Then Viktor proceeded toward Victoria with an eerie look in his eyes.

He picked up Victoria and looked her straight in her green eyes.

"Don't you ever lock me out, you hear me!?" Viktor spat in her face and dropped her onto the floor.

Victoria's dreams of safety shattered like glass when Viktor's rage collided with the door pad. The room, once her refuge, now felt like a coffin. Alone and unheard, she yearned for escape, but the walls pressed in, unyielding.

The cold floor cradled her, its unforgiving surface a mirror of her pain. Tears soaked the computerized metallic floor. She whispered secrets to the shadows in the darkness, hoping they'd carry her anguish away.

In the Morning, Victoria stirred, her reddish-brown hair tangled. The door creaked open, and her father stepped inside. "My sweet girl," he murmured, fingers gentle on her scalp. "You shouldn't sleep on the cold floor; you'll get sick."

Victoria blinked, disoriented. "What are you doing here?"

His smile held secrets—amusement, perhaps love. "I wanted to see if you're okay." A kiss on her cheek, a fleeting warmth. "Now that I see you're okay, I'll leave for work." Victoria knew he was lying.

He vanished, leaving behind a fragile cocoon of care. But Viktor watched from the shadows, his anger a storm. Victoria's well-being mocked him. She knew no pain, no torment. He craved her suffering—the twisted currency of his existence. Her cries would be his symphony, her tears his elixir.

And so, he entered her room, closing the door on their shared nightmare. Her father's footsteps faded, and her mother remained absent. Beyond the closed room, agony danced—a duet of hurting souls. Physical pain and emotional wounds—they merged, a cacophony of despair. Each night, when the world slept, they bled together, silent screams lost in the void.

Victoria's bruises hid beneath long sleeves, welts etched into her skin. She was a ghost haunting her own life. No one saw her—the girl who cried out into emptiness. Vulnerable, naked, afraid. The community whispered of mundane troubles—weather, gossip, etc. But Victoria's pain was taboo, locked away like a shameful secret.

Abuse? Unspoken. Drunkenness? Ignored. Her family's quiet aloofness? A chasm she navigated alone. And as the sun climbed higher, Victoria clung to her solitude, wondering if pain were the only truth she'd ever know.

Every night, Victoria cries softly to herself. I wish I had a different family. Why was I in this family? No one talks! No one cares! We coexist and walk amongst each other, just passing each other by. Viktor, for some reason, hates me. I don't even understand what I have done. I can't fight back he's too strong. And her father—the very one who should protect her—had twisted love into a threat. "Speak, and I'll hurt you," he'd whispered, his breath a venomous promise. I can't take this anymore. I should run away. Yes, I should run. I'll live off the land and eat wild berries. I'll be free. Yes, I will be free! Victoria shook off the idea, knowing that it was nearly impossible to run away.

The R.O.B.O. community is nestled near Death Valley, California—the closest semblance to their home planet. These beings, once speculated upon as extraterrestrial visitors, now inhabited a city gifted to them after the Humans vs. R.O.B.O. War. Fortified like a military outpost, the community was a testament to humanity's fear. They governed themselves, adhering to earthly laws while remaining confined within their city—a delicate balance—peaceful coexistence, yet always watched by the U.S. government.

Victoria's heart ached. She was a captive, counted, and cataloged. The older R.O.B.Os bore the scars of ignorance—their alien origins a burden they carried silently. Escape was a fantasy; the community's boundaries were her prison walls. She yearned for a new family, but even that hope was a fragile thread.

For Victoria, this was a devastating situation. Therefore, Victoria clung to her solitude, her tears a secret language spoken only to the void. The stars above witnessed her silent plea: "Free me." But the universe remained indifferent.

There's Just no way out, she thought.

Yet, within her, a spark flickered—a rebellion against fate. Victoria vowed to have the courage to escape. She studied the community's edges, memorizing the contours of their confinement. She imagined herself as a desert flower, resilient and fierce. The night sky became her confidante. She traced the stars, mapping constellations onto her skin. Each celestial point whispered courage. She wouldn't let her brother and her parents' silence break her. She would find a way out to a life where fear wasn't her constant companion. Maybe one day. She pondered.