The Orphan

I open my eyes to the darkened surroundings.

The sun has already set. The silence announced his absence.

I wonder how peaceful live would have been had he not existed.

I get up from the bed, the rough sheets scratch at my skin as I drag myself to awareness. I walk into the bathroom and wash my face. As I do so, I admire the reflection in the mirror as it is a face I have learned to adore since childhood. Dark doe eyes, a fair cherubic face and long, black hair, soft as silk.

I am often told that I am a bid narcissistic and just a bit too mature for my age, but who wouldn't be, when living with someone like him?

I walk back to my room, the floor chilling my bare feet as I go. I towel my face dry and comb my hair, just enough to be presentable.

Finally, I walk into the living room where I am greeted with the sight of my beautiful, gracious mother reading a book while humming a merry tune and that confirms my doubt. He didn't come home last night.

"Did you sleep well, dear?"

I am pulled out of my thoughts at her words.

"Yes, ma. I did."

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No ma, I'm not hungry yet. You look very beautiful today."

"Oh really, I made a new style of bun today. I was thinking of buying a Gajra as well."

"That would really suit you, ma."

As soon as I had said it, we heard the front door bang open. I saw in real time as all the colour faded from my mother's face at the mere notion of his presence.

We heard him stomping through the hallway and I felt my mother pushing me behind herself, as if to shield me from him. I could understand her, for I too wanted to become a barrier between the two of them, keep her safe always.

One moment all was still and then he came into our view.

Rags as clothes, unshaven, hair a mess and reeking of booze. He stood tall, as if he had anything to be proud of, and began the game of cat and mouse all over again.

"How dare you say that, woman?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. You're drunk. You should rest."

"You don't know what I'm talking about. Oh , you don't know what I'm talking about? I'm talking about that stupid locket that you gave to your useless daughter, you bitch!"

"I'm sorry. It was her birthday and I just wanted to give her a present."

I was horrified. The fight was escalating. I had always been in my room during the previous ones so I never had to experience this raw fear of each movement, no matter how slow.

"It was a present, huh? I'll give you a present."

Time slowed down, as I watched him pick up the flower vase. I could not believe my eyes but my ears had registered the sound of shattering glass, or was it the sound of my heart breaking into two? I do not know.

Now I know nothing except the fact that my mother, my world, my ma was unconscious, bleeding out on the floor and he stood over her still body, shouting something that I could not hear, there was a ringing in my ears.

I could feel the room shrinking into one little box with just my mother and me. I vaguely felt the burn in my lungs as I struggled to breathe.

I touched her hand, it was cold. Suddenly I could feel something hot on my knees, I had sat down in the middle of the pool of blood. Her blood. I couldn't control it. I heaved and coughed as all the content of my stomach was emptied beside her.

I was crying, I knew but I could not feel the tears. All I could feel was how cold she was and how the blood stuck to my skin.

I watched as her once bright eyes, drained of life, right in front of me and I could do nothing but sit there with my head on her lap, humming her favourite tune.

I opened my eyes, the sun was shining brightly. The birds were chirping and the weather was great.I got up, groggy from sleep. I could feel something sticky clinging to my skin and I looked down. The sight of the blood brought back everything. I was still trembling beside the dead body of my mother covered in blood.

I could feel nothing. I got up and went to the washroom. I turned on the shower and watched the water turn red and then disappear down the drain.

The water was cold, like her hand had been.

The dam broke and I could not longer stifle my cries, as I sobbed to the memory of my ma and the grief of losing my world.

I wept to the thought that now I would have to live with him, that monster, that criminal.

I knew deep down somewhere that he would not go to jail and I would have to live with him.

It's not like I had any other choice, what was a motherless eight year old supposed to do?

At that I had a curious thought, I now had no mother and that killer will never be my father.

I was an orphan now.

And then I laughed as the tears continued streaming down my face.