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Chapter 5

20 Years Ago

I was five years old, running barefoot through the grass, laughing as the sun warmed my face. The world felt like it was made of nothing but joy and possibility.

My little brother, Brian, was chasing me, his tiny legs pumping as fast as they could. He always laughed the hardest when I pretended I was too fast for him to catch.

"Catch me if you can!" I taunted, darting to the side, my giggles filling the air.

Brian squealed with delight, his chubby cheeks flushed as he ran after me, arms flailing in the way only a toddler’s could. Mom was sitting on the porch, watching us with that smile—her eyes sparkling with love. She looked so happy, so whole. It was a rare sight for me, and I clung to it like a treasure. She was everything.

"I’m gonna get you!" Brian shouted, his voice high-pitched and excited.

"I’m too fast for you, little man!" I yelled back, teasing him, even though I wasn’t quite as quick as I wanted him to think.

It was a perfect day. A perfect moment. I never thought it could end.

Then it did.

The sound of the front door creaked open, and I paused mid-step. It wasn’t like the usual sound of my dad coming home—his shoes would always scrape against the floor, a heavy, familiar sound. This time, it was quieter. More deliberate.

I turned around, just as the door slammed open. My dad stood there, his figure dark in the doorway. There was something strange about him—something off. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with red marks. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t look right. And his smell—sharp, metallic. It hit me like a cold gust of wind.

Before I could move, my dad walked past me. He didn’t even look at me. His gaze was fixed ahead, towards my mom and Brian.

"Hey, honey," my mom said, standing up with a gentle smile, though her voice wavered, almost as if she knew something was wrong. "You’re home early. How was work?"

But my dad didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Brian roughly, lifting him off the ground like he was a doll. Brian’s eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Let him go!" my mom shouted, rushing toward him.

But my dad didn’t stop. He shook Brian in the air, his face hard, twisted with anger. My mom screamed at him, but it was too late. With one shove, he sent her crashing to the floor. I froze, unable to move, my heart pounding in my chest.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run to them, to protect them. But I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t move.

I turned, running blindly up the stairs to my room, my hands shaking as I scrambled for the safety of my closet. I locked the door behind me, curling into a small ball, my breath ragged in my chest.

I could hear the chaos downstairs—the sound of my little brother screaming, the rage in my dad’s voice, and then my mom. Her cries were the worst. The way she screamed as my father’s anger filled the house, it shattered something inside me.

I should have done something. I should have stopped it. But all I could do was listen and tremble in the dark.

I looked down at my feet, my heart sinking. The scarf—the one I had hidden so many times before—was still there, a memory of the past. A symbol of everything I couldn’t change. I froze.

Tears started running down my cheeks, the salty trails mingling with the dirt of my skin, and I just sat there, silent.

The screaming didn’t stop.

Present Day

I woke up with a jolt, my chest tight, as if I had been holding my breath for too long. My room was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of the city below, far in the distance. I reached out instinctively, my hand brushing against the cold sheets beside me. Empty.

The nightmare still lingered—images of my father’s rage, the sound of my mother’s broken voice, my brother’s innocent cries. It all felt too real. My heart was racing, and my skin felt too tight, like it had been stretched too thin.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 3:00 a.m.

The silence in the room was deafening. It was the kind of silence that made my past feel closer than ever, too close for comfort. The shadows in my mind stretched longer with every second that passed.

I slid out of bed, the floor cold against my bare feet. My fingers brushed against the walls as I walked to the window, opening the blinds slightly. The city below was quiet, shrouded in the stillness of the early morning.

But the peace didn’t reach me.

It never did anymore.

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