Freedom
Everything fell apart this fateful day. A day forever imprinted in my memories.. a day I would never forget.. a memory that was and will be in my mind even if I didn’t want it to be..
Life really can change at any second..
. . .
“You think I don’t know about her?” Mom said, She was talking loudly, almost screaming at him.
Dad stood there, his face pale, trying to calm her down. “It’s not what you think honey. Please, let me explain!”
“Explain?! What about the blonde girl?! The curly one? The one with green eyes? Tall women in red dresses?! Can you explain those too?!” She interrupted him. Her voice rang through the house, sharp and filled with a fury that made the walls seem to tremble.
“You fucking cheated on me with all those whores thinking i would not find out..” my mother whispered her voice lowering into a deep dangerous tone
“I am so fucking done with you David..” My mother whispered, her voice lowering into a deep, dangerous tone.. It was clear she could not take it anymore. She was filled with rage and frustration. Anger in her eyes clearly seen.
Mom’s eyes widened and shit turned wild when she scanned the room before landing on the knife block in the kitchen. In a flash, she grabbed a knife, her hands shook with rage
“No! Mom, stop!” I wanted to scream, but my voice was locked in my throat. I could only watch from the staircase which was perfectly hiding my body, paralyzed with fear, as mom lunged forward and plunged the knife into my dad's chest.
His eyes widened in shock, a gurgling sound escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor, lifeless.
This was the day everything changed.. my life, my personality, my fears, my expectations and most importantly.. people around my life..
Time seemed to slow down for me.. my own mother stood over the body, her chest heaved with each breath. Blood pooled around my dad, staining the carpet.
My mind reeled, trying to process the horror I had just witnessed. I felt a scream rising in my chest, but it never came out. My limbs were numb, my voice stolen by the shock.
No..I have to get out. I have to find help!
Without making a single sound, I turned and fled, my feet barely touching the stairs as I bolted out the back door.
I sprinted to the neighbor’s house, my hands trembling as I pounded on the door.
When it finally opened, I thrust a piece of paper into the neighbor’s hand, my hands trembling and shaking.. no, my whole body was!
my hastily scrawled message was barely legible: “please Help! My mother killed my father.”
The hours that followed were a blur. Police lights flashed, casting eerie blue and red shadows across the walls.
I sat on the steps of my home, my body trembling, watching as my mother was led away in handcuffs. My own mother’s face was a mask of rage and despair, but I could only feel a hollow emptiness inside me..
I could hear the hushed voices of the adults around me, discussing what would happen next. Words like ‘traumatized,’ ‘orphaned,’ and ‘custody’ floated through the air, but they felt distant and unreal.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to make myself smaller, trying to disappear.
A kind-faced police officer knelt beside me. “We need to take you somewhere safe, Venneca,” he said gently.
I nodded numbly, my mind still reeling from the horrors I had witnessed. My eyes, wide and vacant, stared at the spot where my father had fallen for the last time.
That time the only thing I learned in this life was to “enjoy it while you can, because you never know when it’ll disappear..”
. . .
The journey to my aunt’s house felt like a bad dream. The car ride was silent, the officer’s attempts at comforting conversation falling on deaf ears.
I stared out the window, watching the world pass by in a blur of colors and lights, my thoughts consumed by the image of my mother’s face twisted in fury, my father’s lifeless body, and the knife that had ended it all.
My aunt stood in the doorway, her expression a mixture of irritation and disdain. “Come in,” she said curtly, not bothering to hide her displeasure.
I stepped inside, feeling the weight of my aunt’s disapproval settle over me like a heavy blanket.
There were no warm lights, no familiar smells, no comforting corners to hide in.
That night, I lay in a bed that wasn’t mine, staring up at the ceiling. The room was silent, save for the occasional creak of the house settling.
I clutched my pillow, tears streaming down my face as I replayed the night’s events over and over in my mind.
The love and safety I had once known was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness and a fear that gnawed at my soul.
I thought about my parents—my mother’s smile before everything had gone wrong, my father’s gentle laugh.
Those memories felt like they belonged to someone else, a different girl in a different life. Now, all I had were the images of blood and death, the sounds of screams and sirens, and the crushing weight of my own silence.
In the darkness, I vowed to myself that I would survive this, somehow. I truly understood for the first time what it meant to be truly alone.
I had witnessed the unimaginable, and now I had to find a way to live with it..
. . .
My aunt was a woman devoid of warmth, her disdain for children apparent in every harsh word and cruel command.
I would wake up before dawn, climbing out of bed. My aunt’s voice was the first sound I heard each morning, issuing orders and insults in equal measure.
She would often say “Get up, you lazy girl! The floor won’t clean itself!” Every step I took was weighed down by my aunt’s constant criticism.
Each task was a reminder of my place in the household—a servant, nothing more.
My aunt’s cruelty knew no bounds. As I grew older, the tasks became more strict, and the punishments for any perceived failures more severe.
My hands were often raw and blistered from scrubbing floors and washing dishes. The physical pain was constant, but it was the emotional abuse that truly broke me. My aunt’s words cut deep
“You’re useless,” my aunt would sneer. “No one could ever love a worthless girl like you.”
As if the daily torment wasn’t enough, my aunt’s cruelty escalated to unimaginable levels. She began inviting strange men into the house, men who paid for the privilege of rapeing me.
They treated me as an object, something to be used and discarded. Their touches were rough, their words degrading, and their presence a constant reminder of my powerlessness.
The fear of men became an all-consuming phobia, making me hyper-vigilant and anxious.
I avoided eye contact, kept my head down, and flinched at the slightest touch, always expecting the worst.
Despite the torment, I continued to attend school. It was my only escape, a place where I could briefly pretend to be normal.
But even there, I was a ghost, moving through the days in silence. My trauma and fear made it hard to connect with others, creating a barrier.
I would often sit at the back of the classroom, my eyes downcast, hoping to go unnoticed. My classmates whispered about me often, speculating on the reasons for my quiet demeanor and distant gaze.
I had few friends but they sensed my pain but didn’t understand it, and I couldn't bring myself to explain it to them.
At night, when the house was quiet, I would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a whirlwind of memories and fears.
I relived the horrors of my mother’s crime, the coldness of her aunt’s house, and the violation by the men my aunt brought home. I cried silently, the tears a bitter reminder of my pain.
But I had survived this long, and I would continue to survive.
One day, I was invited to a birthday party. The thought of angering my aunt by refusing was too much to bear, so I went, my heart heavy with dread.
The party was a cacophony of noise and laughter, a stark contrast to the silence I had grown accustomed to. I tried to avoid drawing attention. But fate had other plans.
“Come on, Venneca, join us!” one of the girls called, holding up a Ouija board with a grin. Reluctantly, I joined the circle, my fingers trembling as they touched the planchette.
The atmosphere grew tense as they began to play, the laughter dying down as the board spelled out weird messages.
Suddenly, the room grew cold. The candles flickered, and a chilling wind swept through the space.
“What’s happening?” someone whispered, their voice tinged with fear. Before anyone could react, a dark figure materialized in the center of the circle.
The air crackled with energy, and the figure’s eyes glowed with an otherworldly light.
“Who dares to summon me?” the creature growled, its voice deep and menacing.
The room erupted in chaos. Screams filled the air as the figure advanced, its presence overwhelming.
I could only stare, frozen in place, as the werewolf-demon hybrid loomed over me, its eyes locking onto me with an intensity that pierced my very soul.
The creature stood tall, its form shifting between a monstrous werewolf and a dark, demonic entity.
I remained rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on the creature’s. Something in its gaze held my captive, a strange connection that I couldn't understand.
“What are you?” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible.
The creature’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “What do you think, mortal? ” it replied, its voice echoing with a supernatural resonance. “You summoned me, but what for?”
My mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening. I had never believed in the supernatural, but here it was, standing before me.
“Why me? I wasn't the only one who summoned you-” I asked, my voice trembling but i got interrupted
The creature stepped closer, its eyes never leaving mine “Because you have darkness within you, Venneca. You have seen the worst this world has to offer. And now, you will see even more.”
My heart pounded in my chest, but I could not move, could not look away. How did it even know my name?!
The creature reached out, its clawed hand hovering just inches from my face. “You will come with me,” it said, its voice a sinister promise.
“And you will see things you never imagined.”
Before I could react, the world around me dissolved into darkness. The last thing I saw was the creature’s glowing eyes, and then everything went black.
. . .
When I awoke, I was no longer in the house. I found myself in a place that defied description, a landscape of shifting shadows and eerie light.
The creature stood beside me, its form now fully demonic. It looked down at me with a mixture of amusement and cruelty.
“Welcome to your new home,” it said. “The underworld.”
My heart sank as I realized the full extent of my predicament. I was alone in a place of nightmares, with no way to escape.
“Follow me” it said, it’s voice dark and deep full of generosity
The creature turned and began to walk, and I had no choice but to follow. The path ahead was uncertain, and I knew the horrors I would face would be unimaginable.
But deep within me, a spark of defiance still burned.
The journey had only just begun, but I was still ready to face whatever came next..
. . .
