this is a fiction containing domestic abuse and sexual violence. I created this category to encourage myself to write more stories/
I want to keep writing something other and see where it takes me.
Also, hopefully, become better at descriptions and dialogues as they are a little foreign to me.
The beginning of the story can be found here.
As I am writing this post am listening to Dir en grey – Phalaris, an amazing album, truly.
the Girl That Dissolved Into the Air
the Confrontation – a Fiction
The hair on the nape of my neck stands as I hear his voice. It cuts the air like a blade and I can once again feel my soul leave me behind. I truly think that I dissolve into the air. Maybe it is a way for me to save myself from a foul situation. “Amber Berkley!!! I asked you a fucking question!!!” My dearest father was furrowing his brows as he smashed against the wooden table with his fist. I felt as if I was pulled back to reality as the unwashed dishes clanged on the table. Clearing my throat I tried to form words, “I-I… Don’t know.” and felt them get stuck in my throat.
“It is as if a bird has gotten your brain… You little useless brat… I wish I never had you! You know nothing! You even stand here in this mess as if you are not supposed to clean this shit up. Good for nothing… You really are,” once again he is going at me as if I am a maid of this freaking place. “I am not your slave! Besides this house has never been tidy!” and with a tremble of his lower lip, I knew exactly what I had done.
I resorted to slowly creating distance between us. Leaving my back to the front door as I carefully tipped through our home. With him, not far behind. “Don’t you think that you are being a little cruel?” he yells as I try to open the door behind my back and get out. I fumble with the lock for a little too long. The door to my safety creaks and opens as my eye socket meets his fist and I fall through.
As I try to get up he just stands there, in the doorway, looking at me as if I was a mongrel. I still don’t know how can a man carry so much anger for their offspring. But he wasn’t always like that, there had been nice times. But I guess that the alcohol did bring the beast in him out or the disturbed soul that he was.
As if I Was a Mongrel
“Amber. You should run away, you can not stay here, he will find you and drag you back,” Kristen rolled another blunt and removed the bag of ice from my hands… “You know you are supposed to hold it on your face not let it melt in your lap?” She always came up with crazy schemes. Ever since we were kids I would spend nights at her place when her parents were gone. Her 32-year-old uncle Ron always bought us cigarettes and alcohol and even got us weed if we asked nicely. I think I was around 11 years old when I first grabbed a cigarette from his pack and coughed my lungs out.
“Amber, the earth is calling!” I found myself weak and void of words as she stood up and skimmed through her closet looking for the dress that I wanted but couldn’t afford. Ron bought it for me last week and I kept it here, in fear that my parents would find it and take it from me. She pulled the dress out from under her clothes, as if the dresser was a magician’s hat, “Here, take a shower and change.”
The dress looked comic on my 14-year-old body – olive green, satin, bare shoulders, a show of my bony cleavage, and unkempt and wet hair. “AMBER!!! I called Ron, he will come and pick you up and take you to the city.” I didn’t have any energy to fight Kristen back this time. Ron has told me for years that if I ever needed a place to stay he could vouch for me, and that I should run away and write poetry for a living. He believed in me, it was funny as I thought that he was supposed to be old and wise. He had even offered to pay for my living, I thought it was kind of him.
I didn’t notice when Ron had arrived but the moment he looked at my face he slammed the door with his fist. His voice was low and filled with rage “God damn Amber, what has he done to you again? You are definitely not going back!” He grabbed my arm, it hurt, dragging me out of the house into the car. It was a 1980 ugly brown Opel Kadett in an absolutely horrendous state – the running boards almost rusted off, hood covered in tiny dents, windshield having a few dents and it smelt of cigarettes.
It never occurred to me how he was even allowed to drive a vehicle in such a state as it was in fact, a moving hazard. “Don’t worry Amber, I will take care of you, they will never find you with me.” He muttered as lighting his cigarette and offering me one. “Mhh-Mhhm.” That was all that I could answer. I light up the cigarette and doze off into my thoughts as I watch the rain dancing on the car window.