Ch 1 - A sight to behold

I don't know how to begin this wonderful story, but I'm sure many people will relate to it because, most of the time, we don't know how to begin most things.

But maybe I'll start with the most significant event that changed everything.

Here goes nothing.

It was a beautiful Wednesday evening. I was on my iPad, going through some sketches I had made. Our high school mock exams were beginning in a week or so, and I hadn't even glanced at my school notes. But I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on them if I didn't finish my sketches.

I tend to get like that when I'm overwhelmed with a particular emotion. I focus on the easiest thing I can do best. There's a name for that disorder somewhere on the internet.

"Shut up, you whore," a man's voice could be heard just behind my door.

At first, I tried to pretend I couldn't hear it.

As always.

Luckily, the noise stopped for a couple of minutes, and I resumed my sketching.

But then the huge bang downstairs said otherwise. I quietly opened the door, scooped up my twin siblings, and carried the baby into my room, locked us in, and started playing music from my iPad.

My twin siblings, James and Jane, were still awake, but the baby was in a deep sleep, probably from all the crying in the afternoon since we ran out of formula the day before. We've been feeding her water and any little liquid we could find.

My mother couldn't breastfeed. She just couldn't—or maybe she can't.

The banging or hitting downstairs was getting quite intense, and I knew if any of us went down there, we would be in trouble.

I noticed my mom never made any noise during these times. No matter how much that man laid his hands on her, you would never hear a whimper from her.

Not even a gasp or anything. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I think it fueled his anger more because she seemed "immune," so these episodes were becoming more frequent as she stopped showing any signs of mistreatment.

Usually, we would hold out and wait until whatever happened had passed. But then I heard it—for the first time in a couple of months, I heard it.

A very painful cry.

One that makes your throat run dry.

One that gives you chills under your skin.

The twins heard it too, of course. It was quite deafening, overpowering the music I was playing from my iPad.

I had to do something, right now.

I rushed to the door to unlock it and paused to instruct my siblings, "Don't come out until I tell you to. Take my phone and call 911 immediately. You know the address."

They nodded, and James grabbed the phone almost immediately. I had taught them several times the address and any emergency contact they should know because I feared something bad would happen—not that it wasn't already happening.

I grabbed whatever I could find—a heel that belonged to my mother, worn out but capable of doing enough damage.

Slowly, I climbed down the creaking stairs, scared of what I would find, and there it was, the sight that changed my life forever.