Behind Her Mask

6 | Never-Ending Nightmare

Trigger Warning: Violence.

Farrah's POV

"I'm rich too! I'm rich! I can buy your store! --- What's wrong with you? Let me go, you stinky beggars! I've been tolerating your disgusting liquor, and you won't even let me buy it?! Ungrateful!"

From a distance, I heard my dad's loud shout as he was being restrained by the people outside the store.

"D-dad!" I shouted loudly as I approached them.

He stopped moving and looked at me. My chest tightened with fear as his face scrunched up in anger when he saw me.

When he looked me from head to and toe, my face lost its color. 'I'M SO DOOMED.'

Since I was in such a hurry to get here, I forgot to remove my makeup and formal attire from my job interview!

"What the f*** are you doing here?! Who told you to show up looking like that, you wh*re!"

People gasped as my dad broke free from the men holding him and rushed towards me. He grabbed my collar tightly. I held his hand desperately trying to remove his grip.

"D-dad... it hurts----"

"Don't call me dad!" he shouted and slapped me hard.

I heard people shouting again, but I just sat on the floor, dazed from the slap. I tried to blink a few times to clear my blurry vision because of the dizziness.

I was almost knocked to the ground when Dad suddenly pulled me and dragged me away. I heard him yelling again and people trying to restrain him. Others tried to pull me away from Dad, but he had a tight grip on my arm, almost breaking it.

Everything became blurry. The next thing I knew, we were already at home, and I was kneeling on the floor while he kicked my arm repeatedly.

My whole body was numb when he finally got tired of beating me. He shouted some more, but it just sounded like noise to me.

After he went upstairs, my hearing and vision returned. I couldn't help but smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace as I felt the pain.

It's been over a decade of suffering from my father's abuse, and I've learned to deal with it. What's a little bruise? A few slaps, kicks, and punches? I'm not going to cry about it. Ha!

I've been through so much pain that this is nothing. And even if I wanted to cry, my eyes wouldn't cooperate. That's just how it is.

Despite the pain from my bruises, I walked quickly across the street. There weren't many cars, so I made it safely.

It would've been better if there were faster cars or trucks passing by. I sat on the waiting shed bench, ignoring the stinging pain from my wounds.

This is where I usually go to calm down after my dad beats me. Unfortunately, there's no nearby garden, sea, or lake to hang out, and I don't have the budget to travel far.

I removed my slippers and placed my feet on the bench, resting my arms on my knees. I grimaced as I felt the pain in my arm, but I ignored it.

I put my head down and watched the people walking on the sidewalk. Everyone has problems, but why do they seem so carefree? They're great at hiding their struggles. Meanwhile, I'm like a drama queen, ready to shout my problems to the world.

I don't know when I got used to doing this – getting hurt, then coming here to watch people. But I find comfort in it. Seeing people who seem to have no problems in the world makes me feel a little better.

I felt ashamed of myself because I'm inspired by how they can act like everything is fine, and that gives me the courage to do the same. I can do it too. I'm strong like them.

Even though the sky was getting dark, people were still passing by. Some stopped to wait for a ride, and a few glanced at me, but I didn't pay attention.

Why? Now they've seen a girl drama-queening because she got beaten up by her dad? Some asked if I was okay and offered to take me to the hospital, but I ignored them.

After a few hours, I felt a stinging sensation in my neck and back, as well as my knees. I felt the chill of the night, so I stood up, stretched, and headed home.

When I reached our house, fear took over my body. I felt my knees trembling and my lips quivering as I stared at the front door.

I couldn't find the strength to enter that door. I'm sure my dad would just continue beating me.

I slowly walked towards the back of the house, careful not to make any noise, like I was in a horror movie where making a sound would get me killed.

I'm like a character in A Quiet Place, where one wrong move would get me killed by the monster.

As I walked, the silence was deafening. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, trying not to make any sound that would alert my dad to my presence.

I climbed the fence of our neighbor's house, which is just adjacent to our house, and then climbed the tree near my bedroom window. I've done this many times before, but it's still difficult. I had to force myself to climb up and reach the window.

After managing to climb up, I slowly opened the window and entered my room. I closed the window behind me and locked it, then barricaded the door with a chair.

I lay down on my bed, trying to calm down and process what had just happened. My stomach was growling with hunger, but I was too tired to eat. I just wanted to sleep and forget everything.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but think about how my life had become. I'm just a punching bag for my dad, and I don't know how much more I can take. I feel like I'm living in a nightmare, and I don't know how to wake up.

Despite the exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing with thoughts of my dad, my life, and my future. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but I knew I had to be strong.

As the night wore on, I finally drifted off to sleep, haunted by the memories of the day's events.