Serene Of The Sea

1. Born

AUTHORS NOTE: This book is my property and copying will not be tolerated.
This is a free book, written as a hobby. I'm not interested in rude comments, keep them to yourself.
Now that's out of the way. Peace and love.
Enjoy.

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I opened my eyes to the damp stained ceiling. Grey light found its way through the thread bare curtains. Rolling onto my side I watched the blinking light on the clock. 4:30 glowed in red. My breath misted into the air, dissipated by the draft.
The boiler must have broken again.
The pipes clanged in the walls, old and temperamental.

Shifting to sit up from the lumpy mattress. I winced as the bruises on my side made themselves known. Slowly remembering how I had gotten them, I took stock of my condition. Dad had come home drunk again and I had paid for his addiction. This was becoming an unwelcome routine.

My name is Serena. So named by my Dad. I have never met my mother. Dad has always said he had spent the night with the devil and I had been the heavy price for his weakness. He wasn't always this way.

There was a time when I was small when he was sober, a fisherman. He used to take me for ice cream on the pier and we would watch the sun set over the ocean, he would always say I was the spitting image of her. But then he lost his job. They say he's crazy now. Though I know better, yet I cannot help him. One day I found him at the edge of the beach, crying and cursing into the wind. I could only watch as he crumbled, piece by piece.

He changed after that, turning to drink to drown his pain. The older I got the more I looked like my mother, the more he couldn't bear to look at me. We never speak about that day.
Though, people often whisper about him around town. Just out of ear shot. Small towns tend to enjoy gossip.
They whisper about me too. I try not to hear what they say. They think I'm weird. I don't disagree.

My bare feet touch down onto the splintered floorboards of my bedroom. A shiver tingling my spine as I absently take in the bare furnishings.
We had been forced to move out of our old home. We couldn't afford it anymore.
I worked part time at the local library alongside my studies to make ends meet, though we'll probably be evicted out of here soon enough. I would have moved out long ago. But dad would end up on the street and despite his actions, I just didn't have the heart to cut him off.

I heaved myself to standing and struggled to open the stiff chest of drawers. Inside sat the few items I owned. Pulling out a pair of frayed jeans and a discoloured green t-shirt I dressed quickly as the cold assaulted my bones, pulling on my sturdy, if not fashionable boots and worn jacket. Meeting my reflection in the rusted mirror, I noted my face was pale and slightly yellowed from older bruises. Tiredness showed in that face.
I could hardly find sleep anymore.
My green eyes stood out on an otherwise sharp and unimpressive face. I didn't bother to brush out my long dark hair, the wind would only undo that work.
A deep dread slid up my spine as I gently opened my bedroom door, straining my ears for any signs of life in the house. I had memorised long ago which floorboards squeaked and carefully picked my way around them.
As I reached the constrained space of the living room a foul stench invaded my nostrils. Dad lay sprawled across the couch, snoring in deep sleep. Empty and smashed bottles lay strewn across the floor. He would be sorry when he woke up. An unwelcome routine.

I decided not to clean up before I snuck out, so he would see his destruction. He would know he hurt me, and he would wallow and beg for my forgiveness when I returned. Then we would repeat it all over again in a vicious cycle. I slipped out of the door and into the crisp morning air.

It hugged my face with an icy kiss. I didn't mind it, it made me feel alive. The wind whipped through my hair, whistling in my ears. I paced down the concrete pathway in a daze.
The tiny bungalows lined the street, their sad existence hanging on the air. Their stories seemed to scream through the walls, piercing me through the wind. Cries of helplessness and lost dreams. The gutter rats of society, swept into a corner and left to rot.
The sound was unbearable.