chapter two
1043 Words
CHAPTER TWO
BACK TO REALITY
Eliana woke before the alarm.
She always did.
For a few seconds, she remained still beneath the thin blanket, listening to the silence of the basement. Then she remembered where she was.
School.
Breakfast.
Her father.
Another day.
She slowly pushed herself up from the floor beside her bed, where she had fallen asleep sometime during the night.
A sharp pain ran through her side.
Eliana winced and immediately stopped moving.
She closed her eyes and breathed carefully.
The memories came rushing back.
The Night Before
The front door had slammed sometime after midnight.
Eliana had been sitting on her bed, finishing an assignment, when she heard the familiar sound of her father's uneven footsteps.
He was drunk.
She knew it immediately.
She had learned to recognize the difference between his ordinary footsteps and the heavy, unpredictable ones that meant she needed to stay out of his way.
She had turned off her lamp.
Maybe, if she stayed quiet, he would go upstairs.
But he had come down to the basement.
The door had opened.
He had been angry.
Angry about work.
Angry about his life.
Angry about things Eliana didn't understand.
She had tried to remain silent.
It hadn't mattered.
His anger had found her anyway.
The argument had lasted only minutes, but to Eliana, it had felt much longer.
A bottle had been thrown.
She had barely had time to react before it struck her.
She remembered the sudden pain, the shock, and then the floor beneath her.
After that, everything became blurred.
Her father had continued lashing out while she tried to protect herself.
Then he had left.
The basement had gone quiet again.
Eliana had stayed on the floor for a long time.
Alone.
Now
Eliana opened her eyes.
The memory disappeared, but the pain remained.
She carefully touched the side of her head and pulled her hand away.
She didn't want to look at herself yet.
She already knew what she would see.
Another morning.
Another collection of marks she would have to hide.
She forced herself to stand.
Her legs trembled.
"Come on, Eliana," she whispered.
She walked to the small bathroom attached to the basement.
The mirror showed her exactly what she expected.
A tired sixteen-year-old girl stared back.
Her face looked swollen, and the bruises from the previous night were impossible to ignore.
She stared at herself for a moment.
Then she opened the small makeup bag she kept hidden behind some toiletries.
Concealer.
Powder.
A little foundation.
She had become surprisingly good at covering things nobody was supposed to notice.
She carefully worked over the visible bruises until they were less obvious.
Not gone.
Just hidden.
That was enough.
She brushed her long black hair and tied part of it back.
Then she changed into her school uniform.
For a moment, she looked like an ordinary student.
That was the point.
Nobody at school needed to know.
Nobody could know.
---
The smell of coffee reached the basement from upstairs.
Eliana's stomach tightened.
Her father was awake.
She hurried toward the kitchen.
Breakfast.
She always prepared breakfast.
It was one of the rules of the house.
If she was late, he noticed.
If she made something wrong, he noticed.
If the food wasn't ready when he wanted it, he noticed.
Eliana began preparing everything as quickly as she could.
Bread.
Eggs.
Coffee.
She reached for a plate, trying not to put too much pressure on her injured side.
Then she heard footsteps behind her.
She froze.
"Where's my breakfast?"
Her father's voice was cold.
Eliana turned around.
"Dad, I'm sorry. I just—"
"You just what?"
"I woke up late."
His expression hardened.
"I told you breakfast should be ready before I come downstairs."
"I know. I'm sorry."
He looked at the kitchen counter.
Nothing was finished.
His anger grew.
Eliana immediately lowered her eyes.
She knew what came next.
"You're always sorry."
"Dad—"
"Always making excuses."
"I'll finish it."
She turned back toward the stove.
But he wasn't finished.
The argument escalated, and Eliana found herself trying to protect herself and keep her voice quiet.
When it was over, the kitchen was a mess.
Eliana stood still for several seconds.
Her breathing was unsteady.
Her father straightened his clothes.
"Clean this up."
She didn't answer.
He stared at her.
"I said clean it."
"Yes, Dad."
He grabbed his things and walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he turned back.
"And don't embarrass me at school today."
The door slammed.
Silence returned.
Eliana stood alone in the kitchen.
For a moment, she simply stared at the mess.
Then she picked up the first plate.
Her hands shook.
She cleaned everything.
She wiped the counters.
She picked up what had fallen.
She washed the dishes.
She did it all quietly.
Because that was what Eliana had learned to do.
Keep moving.
Don't complain.
Don't cry.
Don't make things worse.
---
By the time she finally left the house, she was already late.
Her schoolbag hung from one shoulder.
She locked the door behind her and stood outside for a moment, breathing in the cool morning air.
The world looked completely normal.
Cars moved along the street.
People walked to work.
Children laughed on their way to school.
Nobody looking at Eliana would have guessed what had happened inside the house.
She started walking.
Every step hurt.
She tried to ignore it.
She couldn't be late.
Not today.
She had a mathematics test.
A history assignment.
And a presentation she hadn't finished because she had spent half the night trying to make sure her father didn't hear her crying.
She pulled her sleeves down slightly.
Then she walked faster.
The school building appeared at the end of the street.
Eliana stopped for a moment.
Home was one kind of hell.
School was another.
At home, she was afraid of her father.
At school, she was afraid of the students who had made her an easy target.
The whispers.
The laughter.
The names.
The constant reminders that she was different.
Eliana tightened her grip on her bag.
She took a breath.
Then she stepped through the school gates.
She put on her practiced smile.
And entered her other hell.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD