Will it be an ending or a beginning?

Ksshhkk! A glass shattered somewhere. With a sound of a woman shierking. That's how the day started. I laid motionless in my bed. Looking at the clock. Tik Tik Tik. My brain hadn't started to work quite well. But it hurt. My head was throbbing. I could feel the bruises on my face. Was it 13th or 14th? 15th maybe. I couldn't remember. I was pretty sure last day started like this and tomorrow would start like this too. I forced myself out of my bed and headed to the living room already quite sure of what had happened.

"C'mon, mom. Let me clean it up."

"It's fine Stacy. I'm fine"

I let out a laugh.

"Please mom, it's anything but fine. But since you are so interested in pretending, let me help you with that!"

Mom got up and let me do the dressing in silence. There wasn't much to say anyway! My mom was the person I loved the most and hated the most in the world. Scratch that. Obviously there was one more person I hated more than anything. But I didn't think he was a human, so it didn't count.

"What do you want for birthday, sweetheart?" Mom gave a poor attempt at smiling.

"Is it my birthday?" I honestly didn't remember. Oh right, it was the 14th.

"Tell me, what do I get you?"

"Nothing, mom. It's nothing to celebrate. I hate that I was ever born. I wish I didn't exist!"

I went to my room and slammed the door in frustration. Why did I even bother to wake up? Hell. Why do I ever bother to do that? But it wasn't much of a relief either. I got nightmares all the time. I felt so angry. Just so so angry. I wanted to hurt someone. Something. Someone should pay for it. Just as I was about to take the knife out of my drawer. I heard the door open and shoved it inside quickly.

Ella came in rubbing her eyes. My 7 years old younger sister. Step sister actually. Poor thing lost her mother at the age of three.

"Can I play with that?"

"No!"

"Please, Stacy!" She pouted.

I rolled my eyes!

"Okay. But don't tell mom!"

I brought out her doll from my secret box. We couldn't afford toys or dolls. So I stole the money from dad's moneybag and bought it for her. It was almost a matter of life risk to be honest but seeing the happiness in her eyes, I think it was worth it.

"There is glass pieces on the living room again" she said quietly.

"Yeah. I broke another glass. Sorry"

She didn't reply or nodded this time. I thought she had started to understand too. Poor thing. Sometimes I thought none of our family members should have ever born!

I started to witness and experience abuse from as long as I could remember. And it got worse and worse as I grew up. I freaking loathed him. Of course I did. But I hated my mother too. I hated her for not leaving him. For not protesting. For keeping silent. I couldn't believe she could be so coward, so weak. Sometimes I blamed her for everything. If only she would stood up, we didn't have to suffer all these. Sometimes I just wished that we all were dead. That really did sound better than enduring these. And to be honest, I did try a few times to do myself that favor. But just as like my life those were a failure too.

I was about to start studying when it started again. The situation didn't used to be so bad as he wasn't home 90% of the time. But since this pandemic, he started to stay at home all the time and the only things he did while at home was to break things, curse, abuse and drink. The yelling got louder and louder. I tried to focus on my books and ignore it for a few seconds but it was downright impossible. I couldn't do it. I couldn't take his yells anymore, I couldn't bear mom's screams anymore. I wanted to help but couldn't do anything but sit in my chair shaking. I took out the knife and started to drag rigorous scratches on my wooden table. One after one. Tuning in to the horrible sounds. Flashbacks kept coming in. Scenarios from the hell floated in front of my eyes. Moments became a blur of nightmares. But then I heard the scream that made me go still like the dead! Ella. No! Not her. Never her!! I rushed to the living room holding the knife with death grip. Ella was standing there crying in fear, screaming. The next second he pulled her hair hair hard and jammed her head into the wall. I saw red everywhere. I still can't process what happened in the few seconds after that but as far as I remember, I bolted to where he was standing and stabbed the knife right into him. His ugly face contorted in pain and looked at me for the last time. A few seconds passed. I stood still with his dead body lying at my feet. Blood flowing everywhere. I stood there still as a statue. Unable to move, unable to cry, unable to scream, unable to think! I felt my mother reach behind me.

"Stacy, look at me"

I shook my head.

"Look at me Stacy!"

I just kept shaking my head.

"Stacy!"

I looked into her eyes.

"You are fine. Everything's fine. I got you," she spoke in her usual calm voice.

1 year later...

It's my birthday. I smile looking at the sunshine creeping through the windows of my bedroom. Ella's still fast asleep. I smell the bacon and head towards the kitchen.

"Good morning, honey. Happy birthday!" Mom smiles at me.

"Good morning, mum," I hug her. "Love you." She kisses my cheek and goes back to cooking.

I know because of this pandemic a lot of bad things happened to a lot of people last year. For many it was the worst year of their life. But for me it was the best one.

One year back from today, I became free. I freed my family.

One year back from today I murdered my father. But I don't feel like a murderer. I just feel free.