Chapter six: Echoes of the Past
1357 Words
I stand before the mirror in my small bathroom, trying to steady my trembling hands. Last night’s almost-kiss with Alex in his office keeps replaying in my mind. The way he leaned in, the scent of his cologne making my head spin, the way I wanted to…
No. I can’t.
Mom’s sobbing filters through the thin walls of our apartment, and suddenly, I’m a scared little girl again. My heart races as I hear Dad’s heavy footsteps. The floor creaks under his weight, and I know what’s coming. He must have come home late. Again.
“Where were you all night?” Mom’s voice cracks with desperation. “Do you even care about this family anymore?”
I turn the faucet on full blast, hoping to drown out the argument, but it doesn’t work.
“I was working! Someone has to pay the bills in this house!” Dad’s booming response sends a chill down my spine.
“You’re lying!” Mom’s shriek makes me flinch. “I saw you with her outside that restaurant!”
A door slams, followed by the sound of glass shattering. I jump, my stomach churning as memories flood back—endless nights of destruction, of watching their love twist into violence.
“Eliana, you’re crazy!” Dad’s voice thunders, shaking the walls. Something heavy crashes against them. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there!”
I press my back against the cold bathroom tiles, sliding down to the floor. My chest tightens as another crash echoes through the apartment.
Twenty years of this violence play through my mind like a horror movie I can’t turn off:
Age five: Crouching in my closet, hands over my ears, singing nursery rhymes to drown out Mom’s screams. Age ten: Watching Dad throw Mom’s favorite vase across the room, missing her head by inches. Age fifteen: Jumping between them during a particularly bad fight, earning a bruised shoulder.
Age seventeen: Finding Mom unconscious on the kitchen floor after a fight.
“Please,” I whisper to my reflection. “Please don’t let me become her.”
At work, my hands won’t stop trembling. I spill Alex’s coffee twice before making it to his office. He notices immediately—of course, he does. He notices everything.
“Sonia?” He touches my elbow gently as I set his coffee down. His warmth sends electricity through my skin.
“Are you okay?”
I meet his concerned gaze, seeing everything I’m trying so hard to resist—kindness, understanding, something deeper that terrifies me. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
“I’m fine,” I lie, pulling away. “Just tired.”
“You’re shaking.” He steps closer, and I catch that familiar scent that nearly undid me last night.
“You know you can talk to me, right? Not as your boss, but as—”
“Mr. Rodriguez,” I cut him off, my professional mask firmly in place. “The DuPont meeting starts in ten minutes.”
His face falls, just for a second, before his own mask slides into place. “Of course. Thank you, Miss Sonia.”
That evening, I find Mom in the kitchen, pressing an ice pack to her cheek. The sight makes me sick. Her hands shake as she holds up an old photo—their wedding day. They looked so happy, so in love.
“He wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “We weren’t always like this.”
My vision blurs, and the room suddenly feels too hot, too small.
“Mom, we need to leave. Both of us. This isn’t—”
The front door slams, cutting me off. Dad’s heavy footsteps approach.
“Not now,” Mom whispers urgently. “Please, Sonia, just go. I’ll be fine.”
But I can’t move. The room spins faster. Years of suppressed anxiety, of watching love destroy everything it touches, crash over me like a tsunami. My chest constricts painfully.
“You’re still here?” Dad’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Come to take her side again?”
“There shouldn’t be sides,” I whispered, swaying slightly. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. “We’re supposed to be a family.”
“Family?” He laughed bitterly. “Look what love did to our family. Look what it did to your mother—turned her into a paranoid, screaming mess!”
“Stop it,” I gasped, but the words barely came out. The kitchen tilted sideways.
I glanced at Mom, noting the new shadows under her eyes and how much thinner she seemed lately.
“Mom…”
“Love changes, Sonia,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “It twists. Sometimes it breaks you.”
My phone buzzed again. Alex: “I missed your smile today.”
“No,” I said, standing abruptly. “Love doesn’t break you. Love lies to you. It promises forever and delivers hell instead.”
Mom’s tired eyes met mine. “Is this about that young man you mentioned? The one at work?”
“There is no young man,” I said firmly, even as Alex’s face filled my mind. “And there won’t be. Ever.”
The sound of Dad’s key turning in the lock thickened the tension in the room instantly. Mom’s hands began to tremble.
“I have to go,” I said, grabbing my purse.
As I rushed past Dad in the doorway, I heard it starting again—the accusations, the denials, the same old dance that had poisoned every dream of love I’d ever had.
In the hallway, my phone lit up one more time. Alex again: “Some things are worth the risk.”
I deleted the message, ignoring the ache in my chest.
Because he was wrong. Nothing was worth becoming my mother, watching love slowly kill you from the inside out. Nothing was worth turning your home into a battlefield.
Not even him.
The sterile hospital lights blurred above me as I regained consciousness on a gurney. Voices echoed around me, distant and distorted.
“Blood pressure’s elevated… Severe anxiety attack…”
I tried to sit up, panic clawing at my chest. “Mom! Where’s my mom?”
A nurse gently pushed me back.
“Your mother’s in emergency care. She sustained injuries during—”
“Let me see her!” I ripped the IV from my arm, ignoring the sharp sting. The room spun, but I forced myself up. “Please, I need to—”
“Sonia.”
That voice.
I froze, turning slowly to find Alex standing in the doorway. His usual polished appearance was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck. His face showed something I’d never seen before—raw fear.
“How did you…?” My voice cracked.
“Emergency contacts.” He stepped closer, hands raised like he was approaching a wounded animal. Maybe he was. “The hospital called your office when they couldn’t reach you.”
Shame burned through me. My boss seeing me like this, seeing my family’s ugly truth exposed.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Your mother’s being transferred,” he said instead of leaving. “I’ve arranged for her to be moved to Mount Sinai. They have the best trauma unit in the city.”
“I can’t afford—”
“I can.” His voice was firm but gentle. “Let me help, Sonia. Just this once.”
A doctor appeared before I could respond. “Miss Martinez, your mother’s awake. She’s asking for you.”
The walk to Mom’s room felt endless. Alex stayed beside me, his presence both comforting and terrifying. When I stumbled, his hand caught my elbow, steadying me.
I should pull away.
I didn’t.
Mom looked small in the hospital bed, her face bruised, lip split. Machines beeped steadily around her.
“Sonia,” she whispered, reaching for me. “I’m sorry you had to see—”
“Don’t.” I grabbed her hand, tears finally breaking free. “Don’t apologize for him. Not anymore.”
- Writer
