Entangled In Storm

Chapter 2: Trauma

Without saying a single word, I handed him the envelope. I stood as he opened it in front of me and read the content. I looked at him for a while but with each time that passed as he read what was in the letter, he became angrier.

“Damn it! Did your mother bring you here?” He demanded.

I nodded my head. It was as though I wanted to talk but I couldn’t get the words out. The man in front of me was so angry and that terrified me. Everything about him terrified me, from his deep scary voice to the scar across his eyebrows, to his rough beard. He looked in danger. As I stood there, I kept wishing my mom would come back and take me away from him. How much longer would she be gone?

“Get in here, kid.” He ordered as he moved away from the door and gave me room to come in.

Instead, I stood. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. I didn’t know who this man was. What if he wanted to kill me? I wanted my mom to come back, I needed her to come back. Why did she leave me here?

“Just my luck, I fathered a dumb child. I said, "Get in here.” He grunted and dragged me into the house aggressively.

I learnt two things that night; the first thing was that the scary man was my father and the second thing was he hated me.

***

The beatings started the night I first came. He hadn’t even waited a day before he started to pounce on me. He seemed to enjoy taking out all his frustration on me. He let me know how much of a disruption I was to his life and how he had never wanted me.

When I went to bed that night, all I could think about was why my mother would leave me with such a man. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother as I wondered where she could be. I prayed very hard for her to come back. I did what I did every night. I kept staring at my watch, waiting for her to come back for me. I didn’t sleep the entire night. I cried all through while I waited and hoped for my mother to return.

I did that every night for a whole month before it suddenly occurred to me that my mom was never coming back. The realisation that my mother had abandoned me, not just abandoned me but my abusive father who hated me hurt so much.

My mother was the one person I trusted the most. I became numb after that. I stopped feeling. I got used to the beatings. The only time I got a break from my father’s beatings was when I was at school and when he was at work or the bar. He never hit me when he was drunk, always when he was sober. That was how I knew that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed seeing me hurt and he needed to be alert to have his fun.

I became numb after that, I stopped feeling. I even stopped feeling the pain of the beatings and I kept to myself when I was at school. I didn’t have friends and I didn’t want them and those who tried, I only pushed them away. Eventually, nobody tried anymore. They all just allowed me to be.

HAZEL’S POV

I had grown up in a very loving and peaceful family. My Dad was a handyman and my mom worked at a bakery. We didn’t have much but we were always happy. My parents made sure that me and my twin sister never lacked. We understood that there were things that my parents couldn’t give us but it was always things that we could live without.

My twin sister Hannah was my best friend. That is how it feels to have a twin sister, it is like being born with your own best friend. We did everything together and we were identical. The only people that could tell us apart were our parents.

Me and Hannah loved to play pranks on people. We loved to confuse them, especially our teachers at school. They could never tell us apart and we used that to our advantage.

We often got into serious trouble because of our antics. My father always found it funny but my mom always scolded us.

I remember all our family moments. The memories are the only things that keep me sane amid this terrible life I live.

Everything was perfect until that day, a day that would scar me for life, the day that our bubble of happiness was blown up into a thousand pieces to the point where it could not be saved. It was a day I couldn’t forget. Not because it was our birthday, but because it was the day tragedy struck my life.

***

It was a beautiful July morning and it was a Saturday. My parents woke me and my sister up from sleep with a beautiful breakfast tray of fried eggs, bacon, sausages, toasted bread, bananas and as a special treat for us, ice-cream sundaes.

They did this for us every year for our birthday but it was always very special. They handed us our birthday gifts, which we opened immediately. I got a new pair of sneakers and Hannah got a new pair of soccer boots since she loved to play soccer.

Hannah had always been the athletic one between the two of us. I was always more on the lazy side. I preferred to be curled up reading a book on the couch in the library. We were total opposites but we got along great.

“Okay, kids. Get ready, we are going to have a fun day today to celebrate my beautiful princesses.” My father said, placing kisses on both of our foreheads.

Hannah and I raced to the bathroom to take our baths and get ready.