Broken Sky

01| The Hell I Live in

Age 17

A hard slap lands on my cheek, making my skin stings as I collapse onto the floor. My glasses fall due to the blow.

I touch my cheek, wincing in pain. A tear forms at the corner of my eye, and I know that it's only there because of the physical pain.

I can't shed another tear if it's because of the pain in my heart -- I can no longer feel it. My heart has been numb for a few months now.

"You foolish girl," barks my stepfather, Tuck. His nostrils flare as he stares at me. "Is this all that you could get for me?" He gestures the money in his hand, the cash I just gave him.

Anger builds up inside me. How could he say that to me?

It's my money and not his. I've been working hard to earn it by juggling my studies and my part-time job.

Just like tonight, I've worked overtime at the local bookstore. The owner is kind enough to reward me daily with cash.

But that's all for nothing now as this loser in front of me immediately snatched it out of my hand. Well, at least not all, since I'm keeping the other half in my jeans pocket.

I can't let him steal my money again after he forcefully robbed my wallet last time. I don't even know how he uses my money. What for?

All I know is that he's jobless and is trapped in the world of gambling now. I've seen those debt collectors in front of this house a few times.

I know that I'm tottering on dangerous ground by hiding my money from him, but I have no other choice.

I have to keep it so that I won't starve myself to death, right?

"Come on, Lais," he hisses. "You're lucky that I gave you a shelter to live in, that you can still stay under my fucking roof. And this is how you repay me?" His voice is low and dangerous.

But if Mom hadn't married him three years ago, we wouldn't have moved here in New York. She wouldn't have sold our house back then, and we wouldn't have lived in hell with him.

My hatred toward him becomes even stronger.

Back then before they married, Tuck tricked Mom with sweet words and promises.

He'd put on a mask, saying that he loved her. That he would protect us and take care of us. And when he finally revealed his true self -- egotistical, abusive, violent -- it was too late for us.

He didn't love Mom. He only loved her body, and he used her to help him solve his problems instead, including his debts.

"Don't look at me like that, you useless brat," he spats. "Don't look at me like that with those ugly eyes. Geez, you're so ugly, don't you know that?"

My hand is shaking when I try to reach for my thick glasses on the floor.

I know that he hates me -- I remind him of Mom. My eyes are exactly hers, and every time he looks at them, they remind him of all those anger, regrets and disappointment in Mom's eyes every time they fought.

Before I can even put my glasses on, he kicks my knee harshly, and I groan in pain. Furious, he stomps out of the foyer toward his room, leaving me alone, lying helplessly on the ground.

My jaw tightens as I stand back up on my feet. Feeling my blood boiling, I storm into my room, lock the door and throw myself on the bed.

I bury my face in my pillow and cry. I hate this. I've promised myself not to cry anymore because of him, but I just can't help it.

I miss Mom. I miss her so bad.

I wish she were still here with me, but she's not.

She's gone. Died in a car crash.

She left me three months ago, leaving me heart shattered. I should have warned her that she shouldn't be driving that morning when she had barely enough sleep from working overtime and dealing with Tuck's anger the whole night.

I used to send her off every morning, watching her get into her car every time she went for work. But that day, I didn't. That day, I overslept.

And that day, I lost her. I couldn't see her anymore. For the rest of my life.

My pillow is now soaking wet with my tears. I can't bear living with Tuck anymore.

I can't even count how many bruises he has created on my body.

But what am I going to do out there? Where will I live?

How am I going to afford a living? I'm just a teenager who is still finishing high school.

How will such a little money I gain from my part-time job be able to help me own a shelter?

I grip my pillow, my chest tightening as I remember that Mom had been working hard her entire life to save money for my future, including my college.

If only I knew where she kept it.

Tuck has been trying to find it too. He has used violence against me to make me speak, but how can I tell him when I don't even know about it either?

I've made a vow to myself that when that day finally comes, when I find it, I will disappear from his sight. I'll be gone from here.

The morning sun comes through my bedroom window as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Just like any other day, I'm getting ready for school.

Most of my friends hate Monday, but I can't wait for it. School is the place where I can escape from Tuck and this house.

I glance at my wristwatch. The class won't start until two and a half hours later, but I can't wait that long. The earlier, the better.

A sigh leaves my lips as I put the final touch for my look. My glasses. The initial reason why I'm wearing it is to avoid Tuck's rage, to make the effect of these sky blue eyes less dramatic for him, but then it becomes a habit.

I don't know when it started, but my glasses and I have become inseparable.

With my bangs hanging low above my eyebrows, my unstylish brown hair falling on my shoulder, and these thick glasses, I look nothing less like a bookworm. I actually am, and that's why I chose to work part-time in a book store.

Please, Monday. Be good to me today.

I can't help but utter that pray silently in my heart, hoping to encounter something good today. I'm already fed up with my messed-up life.