Bubbles

8

Break Of Dawn

Violence, alcohol usage and abuse warning. Your discretion is advised.

The second image that materialized was two nights after the first incident. That day, when the champagne bottle just exploded open. It represented the beginning of a series of terrible, worth-crying events.

My father wasn't home; he must've been out for work or an important business affair. Or so my mother told me. Again, though, I had a hard time believing that. My family's image was being held by lies and little explanations. I'd surprised dad in the kitchen the night before, a bottle in his hand and an emotionless look. He leaned onto the kitchen counter. He anchored his hands through his dust-brown hair and sighed heavily. He brought the bottle to his lips once more.

Meanwhile, my mom sat in the living room with a thick wool blanket lying between her fingers. She knitted silently as she used to when she searched for peace and calm within herself. She always did so in times of distress. It was her way of organizing her own thoughts.

At their young age and in their early marriage, only lusty young love defined the base of their relationship; fights became significant and reoccurring. Mom didn't hesitate to tell me stories of their early relationships, why she loved dad so profoundly and how their love was imperishable. She was so convinced of her tales that it convinced me. I believed with all my heart that my family would form a never-ending unbreakable bond and that every odd would stand in our favour. The stars would align, and our family would create a perfect wall that nothing could break down.

I omitted every possible detail leading to this night. I couldn't face it, I couldn't understand, and I knew I certainly didn't want to relive it. It would make me cry, break my heart, and all the reality that I'd been hiding from myself would find its outburst. I was terrified by my own past. And only I could help me out of this, so I had to figure out a way to get out of this. Any possible way that didn't imply reliving the events of my troublesome past. Anything. I searched and raked every corner of my brain for a solution, but there laid only one solution, and it lay in front of my eyes.

Then I let go. I let go of everything keeping me from looking back, from accepting what represented me and who I was. And what defines the me of today. My past is what created the person I am today. A grown, mature young 16-year-old boy. I let my eyes see, I let my heart understand, and finally, I let myself accept. I was completely bare, without the faintest barrier, no shield to mask away regrets and emotions.

This was my reality.

The memories all swirled up a savage tide as if testing my limits as I let go. Yet, my eyes kept open.

Drunk to the tip of the head, Dad slammed his beer bottle on the kitchen counter in a swift movement. He rotated on his feet unstably and faced my mother, sitting far ahead. Then, in uneven steps, he stumbled his way to her. She stayed calm on the soft sofa and looked up at her husband. Her features fell to the ground. She brought her hand to her mouth and uttered barely audible words. Words that would stay incrusted in my mind forever.

"What have you done to yourself?"

She spoke to herself because my dad didn't seem to be listening to anything she said. Then, without warning, he pulled her by the hair. His expression turned even darker than they were before.

"You will transcribe these texts back to life so I can get back all the files I lost," He declared. "Years, years and years of work just for this to happen? No."

My mother bellowed in pain as he dragged her by the hair and paced to the study. He ignored how she hit her side against the frame and stubbed her toes by the kitchen table. She pleaded in pain, yet he dragged her away, disregarding her cries. As a result, she cried as he pulled onto her hair with such carelessness it terrified me.

My insides were screaming to get out of here. I wanted all this to stop and believe this reality did not belong to me but to someone else. Maybe even be a tragedy on the screens of a movie theatre. At every one of mom's pleads, I pleaded too. I wouldn't give up yet. I couldn't give up. I had to remain strong and carry all the pain behind my back. I could do it. And so, I continued, and the raffles of disturbance took back their places in the tides.

He forced her to take place at his desk, but she refused.

"Fix it." He commanded, pointing a fickle finger at her. She looked up to him, trying to object and tell him to come back to his senses, but then, an event I wanted to forget and refuse happened. He brought a heavy and merciless hand to her jaw.

"I said, fucking fix it!" He shouted now as she wailed. "Or I'll break those little fingers of yours." His breath stunk of beer and liquor, and he uttered those words to my petrified mother. She didn't move for a while as if sculpted into thick ice.

"Go on." He commanded her.

My mother slowly turned to the immobile computer and brought her hands to the computer. She cried silently, and all I could see were the tears that flowed down her cheeks. The pain she felt was not measurable.

The memory slowly faded away, like the end of a presentation. Then, as the curtain withdrew, darkness and calm took back seat. The tides regained their peace. The ringing that was once there, constantly buzzing in the background of my life, ceased.

From the ocean's depths, light rays broke through in a sparkling motion; just like the emotion of one's person clearing up, the rays of sunlight invaded the ocean like a gentle sway on the tip of the nose. The loud pain that twisted my insides had calmed down and seemingly disappeared. That light was just within the stretch of my arm. My way out of here, my direction to the end of my terrors. My freedom.

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Thanks for reading you guys!! ✿ Lots of support for all people going through tough times, dealing with family problem or simply going through some tough times. You can get through this, seek for help and talk to people. There are people around you who love you ♥︎

• I had lots of fun writing this chapter, even though it addressed quite negative terms and harsh realities. It came from the heart, and literally flowed onto paper(or keyboard). I hope you enjoyed, dear reader! 😄

AAAH! We just hit 300 reads and 110 votes! You guys, I can't thank you enough >-< (Yes, it's a big deal)

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