The Salvador Legacy

01 | It's me, hi!

Ever found yourself sprawled on your bed, staring at your four walls like they just spilled your deepest secrets to the ceiling?

Meanwhile, your brain's in overdrive, hosting the Cringe Olympics - where your life's most embarrassing moments compete for the gold in awkwardness.

Who knew your brain had a VIP section for mortifying memories?

I jolt upright, determined to give my brain's cringe marathon a well-deserved timeout. But wait, what's that? A symphony of chaos is tuning up downstairs as my parents unleash their inner drama llamas.

I contemplate descending into the battleground, but let's be real - I've had more success teaching my pet rock to do calculus than dodging airborne vases in that corridor.

And don't get me started on my tearful solos -

It's as if my life's a dress rehearsal for a tragic opera, complete with dramatic monologues that Shakespeare would envy.

So, I'll just hang out here, contemplating the mysteries of existence while the drama unfolds downstairs.

Who needs Netflix when you've got a real-life show that's a mix of action, tears, and the occasional shattered vase percussion?

But hey, shifting gears from family sitcom to personal drama, it appears the author missed out on introducing you to a spectacular character - Selena!

Now, before you jump to conclusions, no, I am not Selena Gomez, despite the undeniable allure of her fabulousness. Go #teamselena.

Alright, let's dodge political debates for now, shall we?

Despite the mountain of assignments and a syllabus that stretched longer than a giraffe's neck, I found myself in bed, lost in a staring contest with the most interesting wall I've ever met.

I hauled myself up, sat as straight as a pencil, and reached for my glasses on the nearby light stand, wanting to give a break to my never ending thoughts.

I extended my arm to the nearby lightstand - not for my textbooks, mind you, but to fetch the third book of 'The Inheritance Games' by Jennifer Lynn Barnes.

Lately, I've been in a torrid love affair with reading, and I've transformed into a certified professional bookworm. It's a habit I can't shake off, even during exams.

There's just something about reading that keeps me going, even if it means flirting with academic disaster!

"Selena, get down here" echoed from my dad.

Well, you would've thought a meteor was heading straight for my room the way I flung my covers aside and sprinted down the stairs, my feet channeling their inner jellies as they threatened to give up on life.

My heart? should I book a cardiologist now or later? Stay focused, Selena! Don't let your heart run a marathon without you.

"I told you, this is unacceptable! How many times do I have to say it for it to sink in?" yelled my father, Red faced and furious with his back towards me.

For the 17 long years I've known my father, not a single day has passed without the oppressive cloud of his drunkenness.

Nor has there been a day, a solitary one, where his voice hasn't mercilessly torn through the fragile fabric of our home, leaving my mother with a heavy heart.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." quivered my mom, with a bruised jaw.

He did not

From the haunting image of bleeding noses to the painful memory of red marks on her neck, and now the fresh bruise on her jaw, my mother has endured it all.

Yet, the question that lingers like a silent scream is, Why is she so unwilling to break free from this never-ending nightmare?

I tighten my grip on the doorknob, anger and fear churning within me "What's, uh- going on here?"

"Who gave you the permission to utter a word." he turned managing to make eye contact with me.

Looking down, I replied softly, "I just wanted to express how I feel, Dad. What's happening isn't right, and it's tearing our family apart"

In a sudden eruption of anger, he seized a delicate porcelain vase from a nearby table. The vase, trembled in his grasp.

I was frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights. With an explosive release of tension, he hurled the vase with a savage force.

My instinct for self-preservation surged forth, and I threw myself sideways and hit my elbow in the wall pretty hard.

The vase missed me by a hair's breadth, The crash that followed echoed through the room like a symphony of an already shattered trust.

It was always Mom he targeted. But he had this strange way of listening to me, almost every time.

I'd enter the room, and he'd calm down, he'd listen, and I felt like I could make a difference. He'd make sure to show he valued my presence.

But now, I find myself tangled in this mess too, and slowly, he's beginning to treat me the exact same way he treats her. The weight of that realization is absolutely crushing.

I found myself frozen in place, my teary eyes locked onto a scene that shattered the illusion I had held onto for so long.

My legs, as if possessed by an urgent instinct, quivered with the need to escape this nightmare.

Trembling hands reached out, fingers wrapping around the cold, unforgiving doorknob and tears streamed down my face.

With a mixture of fear, anger, and determination, I stepped out of the house and slammed the door shut with a resounding bang which made the monster in disguise go, "You little piece of shi-"

Alright folks, that'll be it for today

[A/N]

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