CHAPTER TWO: Stranger's kindness
1232 Words
Grandma Ruth had only recently moved into the neighborhood.
Her small cottage stood just a block away from the Marcus family home. Although she had lived in Edelheim for only a short time, there was one thing she had noticed almost immediately.
Every night...
The same house echoed with screams.
At first, she tried to convince herself that it wasn't her place to interfere. But as the nights passed, the cries became harder to ignore.
That evening was no different.
Unable to bear the sounds any longer, Grandma Ruth wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and slowly made her way to Marcus' house.
She knocked once.
No answer.
Twice.
Silence.
Three times.
Still nothing.
On the fourth knock, Marcus finally pulled the door open.
Inside the house, Evelyn immediately shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She wanted nothing to do with whatever was about to happen.
Amara, however, saw the interruption as her only chance to escape. Without making a sound, she hurried into her tiny bedroom and locked the door behind her.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
Marcus frowned the moment he saw the elderly woman standing on his porch.
For a brief second, he wanted to slam the door in her face.
But Marcus valued his reputation more than his anger.
To the people of Edelheim, he was a respected public official. Polite. Responsible. Dependable.
No one knew the monster who lived behind closed doors.
Forcing a pleasant smile onto his face, he spoke gently.
"Good evening, Grandma Ruth. Is there a problem? How can I help you?"
The old woman looked up at him with trembling eyes.
"I... I can't open my front door," she said nervously. "I think the doorknob is broken."
Before Marcus could reply, she gently took hold of his arm.
"Would you mind helping me?"
Marcus fought the urge to pull away.
The touch of her wrinkled hand disgusted him.
Still, he forced himself to remain calm. He had worked too hard to build a respectable image in town. Losing his temper with an elderly woman was a risk he couldn't afford.
Without another word, he followed her.
Grandma Ruth was in her late sixties.The soft wrinkles on her face told stories of both love and heartbreak. She lived alone in a cozy cottage surrounded by a beautiful herb garden filled with lavender, rosemary, mint, and colorful flowers.
Years ago, people admired her beauty.Now they admired her kindness.
Ever since she moved into the neighborhood, she couldn't stop thinking about the little girl who walked with her head lowered every single day.
Amara never smiled.
Never laughed.Never played with other children.
She always looked exhausted, as though life had stolen her childhood.
Grandma Ruth wasn't blind.
She recognized the bruises.
She recognized the fear hidden behind Amara's quiet eyes.
She knew the child was being abused.
But Marcus was one of the most respected men in Edelheim. Without proof, no one would believe her accusations.
Worse still, if Marcus discovered she had reported him, she feared he would become even more dangerous.
So she watched.
She waited.
And whenever she heard the beatings become unbearable...
She found a reason to interrupt them.
Tonight, a "broken doorknob" had saved Amara.
Back inside the house, Amara slowly slid down against her bedroom door until she was sitting on the floor.
Every part of her body hurt.
Her cheek burned where Marcus had struck her.
Her ribs ached.
Her arms throbbed.
She hugged her knees tightly against her chest.
Too exhausted to cry...
She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Outside, Marcus reached for Grandma Ruth's doorknob.
The door opened effortlessly.
He slowly turned toward her.
"Grandma Ruth..."
"The door works perfectly."
The old woman blinked in surprise before letting out a nervous laugh.
"Oh dear..."
"It wouldn't open no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps it decided to cooperate now."
Marcus narrowed his eyes.
For a brief moment, he wondered if she had tricked him.
But without proof, there was nothing he could do.
He forced another smile before turning and walking back toward his house.
Morning arrived far too quickly.
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains and landed softly across Amara's face.
She slowly opened her eyes.
She was still lying on the cold wooden floor. Her neck was stiff, her body ached.
For a brief moment, she considered skipping school.
But staying home wasn't an option.
School was the only place where she could escape her parents, even if it was only for a few hours.
There had once been a time when Evelyn loved her daughter.
She used to brush Amara's hair, kiss her forehead, and tuck her into bed every night.
But Marcus changed everything.
Unable to give him the son he desperately wanted, Evelyn became the target of his cruelty.
Every insult.
Every slap.
Every humiliation. She carried the pain until she could no longer bear it.
Then she poured all of it onto Amara.
She beat her.
Insulted her.
Blamed her for destroying her marriage.
And when the guilt became too heavy...
She drank until she forgot everything.
Leaving Amara to carry the pain alone.
Slowly, Amara got to her feet.
Fresh bruises covered her arms.
Dark marks stretched across her face.
She searched for the small box of bandages she usually used to hide the injuries before going to school.
It was empty.
She let out a quiet sigh.
There was nothing left.
She pulled on an oversized dark hoodie that almost swallowed her small frame.
Hopefully...
No one would notice.
Grabbing her backpack, she quietly slipped out of the house before either of her parents woke up.
Outside, Grandma Ruth was already waiting.
She held a small blue lunch bag in her hands.
She had prepared breakfast before sunrise.
Not for herself,for Amara.
Every morning she watched the little girl leave home hungry. Every morning she looked thinner than the day before.
Grandma Ruth's heart couldn't bear it any longer.
Soon she spotted Amara walking slowly down the street, dry leaves crunching beneath her feet.
The little girl winced as she gently rubbed her bruised arm.
"Ouch..."
The word barely escaped her lips.
Then she stopped.
A shadow fell across her path.
She looked up.
"G-Good morning... Grandma."
Grandma Ruth smiled warmly.
"Good morning, my child."
"How was your night?" The question almost broke her heart.
She could see the bruises, she could see the exhaustion., S
she could see the fear.
"My night was fine." The lie came so naturally that Grandma Ruth's eyes filled with tears.
Amara tried to walk past her, Grandma Ruth quietly held out the blue lunch bag, Amara stopped.
Her stomach growled loudly.
She lowered her eyes in embarrassment.
She couldn't remember the last time someone had prepared a meal just for her.
She wanted to accept it. More than anything.But years of neglect had taught her never to trust kindness so easily. Grandma Ruth seemed to understand.
Without saying another word, she gently placed the lunch bag into Amara's trembling hands.
"It's for you," she whispered.
"You don't have to say thank you."
Then she turned and walked away. Amara remained standing in the middle of the quiet street staring down at the warm lunch bag in her hands.For the first time in years...
Someone had cared whether she had eaten.
- Writer
