The day had finally ended. I was so tired, but joyful. I did all my homework and playing in school was fun. Having finally acclimated to my new school environment, I now enjoy a remarkable circle of friends and find my teachers to be approachable and understanding. “It turns out that this year won’t be so hard, now that I am friends with Delilah. I can’t wait to tell mom and Adam about this splendid news.’’ I said to myself with pride.
I was elated. I opened the door with an expectant smile curving my lips, only for it to evaporate like morning mist, morphing swiftly into a frown of disbelief. What lays before me was a scene so unfathomable, so inconceivably tragic, that my heart stuttered in my chest. The air thickened with a palpable tension, and I couldn’t shake the realisation that I was on the precipice of uncovering a truth darker than I could have ever imagined. I will never forget the words I heard, an echo that repeated itself through my very core. I stood frozen, mouth agape and eyes widened in disbelief, as if time itself had come to a standstill. A chilling realisation washed over me, making it clear that I had just crossed into a reality I was utterly unprepared to confront. My mother was seated in front of father, crying her eyes out. She was in utter shock and disbelief. Father was there, enraged and with a voracious look in his eyes. I could just stand there, frozen, and hear what had to be said
“How? How could you do this to me? You promised! You said it ended!”
“SHUT UP! You are the one who ruined my life! You take my money when I am well off, but when your financial breakthrough comes, you neglect me! It’s not that I even make it a debt, but you just make my life hard. Your investments don’t work and your businesses fail! What do you expect me to do?” After he said that, he went towards mother, wanting to shout something he would regret later. “Dad! Stop! Please! You don’t have to…” “You are just a mere child! You don’t know anything! You are nothing but a burden to us. All you do is carry your bag to school, come back, eat and sleep. You could not withstand or comprehend the life of an adult! You stupid child…”
That was the first time I got to witness their fights. The first time I intervened. I felt so stupid and worthless. His words were like a sharp shard piercing into my gentle fragile heart. I was not ready for his words. I knew he was not in his right state of mind, but he says this like he has been holding it in, waiting for the day he would tell me how much of a pain I am just for existing.
I looked at my mom, whose head was down and eyes were red and puffy. She looked more hurt than me. I tried to run to my room to avoid the situation, then, I suddenly felt a strong grip on my hand saying: “ Where do you think you are going? I am not done talking to you, you worthless piece of trash!” His other hand was already raised, ready to land a hot slap onto my face. I had closed my eyes and prepared myself for the impact. “ Stop!” Someone said after a strong clap echoed and broke the tension ‘Is that Adam’s voice?’ I thought to myself. I opened my eyes to see Adam, laying a tight grip on our father’s wrist. Adam was so fixated on saving me that he did not notice father’s other hand let go of his grip on my wrist and aimed to push him out of the way. “Adam! Look …” Before I got the chance to conclude my sentence, he was already pushed away to the corner like a sack of potatoes.
“Both of you! Get out of my sight! This is between your mother and I.” I ran to Adam’s assistance. We got out of the sitting room and approached the bedroom.
I tried to analyse the whole situation. ‘What is the promise dad broke? What money is dad talking about? Why is he so angry? What is happening?’ I thought to myself. But the thought racing through my mind was, ‘Is mom going to be ok?’ I could still hear their words clashing and arguing without an end. I couldn’t sleep. I knew that the argument was serious the moment dad said, “This is between your mother and I.” Dad never calls mom that way. I ran to Adam’s bedside. “It’s going to be ok.” His voice reassured me. ‘At least I have my brother by my side’ I thought to myself. I hope he will always be here. I don’t know what I would do if…
***
Days turned into weeks, and the cycle of fighting and silence continued. My mother remained withdrawn, her once-vibrant spirit dimmed by a cloud of sorrow. My father’s rage seemed to grow more volatile, boiling over at the most trivial of things—a misplaced remote, the unwashed dishes in the sink, the sound of laughter from outside. I often found myself seeking refuge in Delilah’s company. With her, moments of laughter and light momentarily dulled the pain of home. She became my solace, my escape.
That evening promised to be different. I returned home from school, exhausted yet hopeful, eager to share my latest triumph in a maths competition—a rare distraction from the turmoil that had consumed our household. With a new sense of confidence that stemmed from my achievement, I was ready to elevate our family’s mood, if only for a moment. But as I stepped through the door, the atmosphere shifted abruptly, dousing my optimism.
I was met with an all-too-familiar scene—my parents in the midst of another heated argument. The din of their voices clashed violently against the otherwise still air, a cacophony of unresolved tensions and deep-seated grievances.
“Why can’t you just admit you’re wrong?” my mother shouted, her voice breaking like glass under pressure. “Because I’m not! You’re the one who needs to take responsibility for your actions!” my father countered, his voice rising, each word a hard jab in a fight that had no clear victor. The scene before me unfolded in slow motion. I could feel the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach, the instinct to retreat rising within me. Yet, something shifted; a surge of determination washed over me. I didn’t want to witness another cycle of anger and blame. “Stop it!” I yelled, stepping into the fray, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. “This has to end!”
Both of my parents turned to me, shock written across their faces, their expressions a mix of disbelief and confusion. For a moment, the room was silent, the air thick with tension. The echoes of their argument lingered, heavy and oppressive, and I could see the myriad emotions swirling in their eyes—defensiveness, guilt, anger, but, most painfully, despair. “What do you know about it?” my father spat, his voice a low growl. “I know enough!” I replied, surprising myself with the edge in my tone. “I know that this fighting is tearing us apart. I can’t take it anymore! Why can’t we just talk? Is it so hard to admit when you’re wrong or to listen to each other?”
There it was—my voice, trembling yet unwavering. I had reached a point where standing by idly was no longer an option. The weight of my emotions might have crashed down around me, but my resolve remained stronger than the heaviness of our circumstances. My mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a wall of ice begin to melt. “Honey,” she started softly, attempting to reach out to me, but her voice and her intentions were drowned out.
“Don’t!” My father’s voice boomed through the room as if he were a storm itself, wild and unrestrained. “This is an adult business! You have no idea what we’re dealing with!”
“No, maybe I don’t,” I countered, feeling emboldened by my own outburst, fueled by the pain I’d felt consistently over those weeks. “But I do know that this is affecting all of us. We aren’t just collateral damage in your war. I’m tired of asking for peace and only getting silence. Don’t you care how this makes me feel? How does Adam feel?”
Their expressions shifted, and I could see that my words had penetrated the bubble of anger. It was as if they were waking up, finally realising the repercussions of their battles. “We’re hurting, too,” I continued, my voice quieter but still steady. “If you truly love us, then you should want to be better—for us!” Silence hung heavily again, this time laced with the potential for change. My father’s rigid shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, a subtle signal of defeat. For a moment, my mother looked as though she were caught in a wave of conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, and perhaps the faintest hint of hope.
But then, just as quickly, the darkness returned. “You think it’s that easy?” my father barked, attempting to regain control of the narrative. “You think you can just wave a magic wand and make everything better?”
“I don’t know if it’s easy or not,” I shot back, desperation creeping into my voice. “But I do know we can’t keep going like this. I don’t want to lose either of you to this anger. I want us to be a family again, not just people who share the same roof.” The room felt charged, a kind of electricity humming in the air, a heavy silence punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. My heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I waited for a response, hoping that something would shift in that moment.
My mother’s gaze fell to the floor, shame blending with her sorrow. “I’m tired,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet it sliced through the tension. “Tired of fighting, tired of feeling like I’m losing everything.” That admission hung in the air like a fragile glass decoration, waiting for the slightest vibration to shatter it. My father’s hardened demeanour softened, an ember of empathy flickering in his eyes.
“Maybe we need to talk,” he said quietly, his voice stripped of its previous thunder. I nodded vigorously, sensing that the storm might finally be receding. “Yes, let’s talk. Please.” As we settled into an uneasy calm, the possibility of experiencing real communication dawned on us. It wouldn’t be easy—years of hurt and misunderstanding wouldn’t vanish in an instant—but it was a start. The night stretched ahead of us, laden with potential and the hope of moving forward together as a family, towards healing instead of destruction. The battle between love and anger would not vanish overnight, but maybe, just maybe, we had turned a corner. Or maybe it was an opportunity for something worse to come to life.
***
Adam was still quiet in the background. I went toward him expecting a grateful gesture. I opened the door and faced him. “Chloe, I don’t know what came over you, I don’t know if you are sick in the head, I don’t know what you did today. But you should not have done that. Stop interfering with your parents’ relationship. To you, they are mother and father, so when they are husband and wife, leave them be! Do you hear me?” I nodded my head and looked down in shame. I felt so proud and elated by the fact that I had fixed their issue, just to be brought to humiliation and regret in a few seconds.
Adam left the room. I didn’t care where he was going, as long as I wasn’t there to see it. I fell to my knees, the sharp pain in my eyes returning after months of numbness. Watching my sibling walk away felt like a stab to my heart. I lay flat on the cold floor, trying to push away the sadness that washed over me like a tidal wave.
The chill from the open bedroom window crept up my spine, jolting me back to reality. I could hear my parents arguing in the other room, their voices rising and falling like a dark storm. Suddenly, a harsh realisation hit me: I am just a child in this house. No one sees me for my brilliance in emotional understanding or the depth of my thoughts shaped by this chaos. They expect me to be mature, to endure pain and trauma like an adult, yet they don’t recognize the child still lingering within me.
I felt lost in their confusion, caught between childhood and the weight of adult expectations.
Exhausted from crying, my eyelids grew heavier. I slept on the cold floor, which felt warmer and more comfortable now, softened by the fever I’d developed from endless tears. It was as if the sadness lurking inside me had pushed me down, leaving me without the strength or ability to sit up. My tears rolled down my face, pooling on the cold tiles. The more I lay there, the more comfortable I became.
I drifted into a white scenery, an all-white room with blank walls closing in around me. Above me, my parents’ arguments played on repeat, a surreal film projected onto the ceiling. The door stood wide open as I watched my brother walk out, fading into the horizon. I reached out my hand, hoping he would turn and come back to me. Instead, I found myself lying there in front of the door, stuck in a void where the only thing I could touch was the doorpane, far beyond my reach. The arguing grew louder, invading the silence of my mind. I felt trapped.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching my mom, culminating in an earth-shattering slap. The shock sent more tears streaming down my face. I had never realised how deeply hearing it would affect my emotional strength. I couldn’t move an inch as their fighting continued, drowning in my fear. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop!!!”
I woke up to a loud bang. The window had been left agape. Sitting up, I was free from the bondage of the floor. I glanced at my watch—only a few minutes had passed. Pushing myself against the wall, I turned to face the mirror. My tired, red eyes reflected back at me. Tear droplets clinging to my lashes. I ignored the sight, diverting my gaze to the pile of homework on the table. It offered a reason to escape the emotional turmoil. Sometimes, those books are my only refuge, a world where I can truly get lost. They create a flicker of happiness in my life, and I hope I never lose this small joy. I can’t afford to risk my future because of my home life. I finished homework and slept immediately. The evening events exhausted me. I slept peacefully that night. I already had my daily nightmare. And even after all of this, there was still no sign of Adam.
I wake up from my sweet sleep and prepare myself for the day ahead of me. The house was empty as usual. Neither mom nor dad were around. Everyone escapes the morning arguments for their own sakes. There was still no sign of Adam. I became stressed out, but I tried to affirm myself in my head and I went on with my day.
I reached school and immediately saw Delilah waiting for me at the gate. I forged a smile on my face for her sake. She didn’t have to know what happened. I hope today will go down smoothly. I reassured myself, knowing that being in school is the best distraction I can get.
I looked at my other friends. Their smiles were contagious. They made me happy. They helped me escape the hollow void I was stuck in. We all ran to class when the bell rang. I was ready for another day of school. “Hi Chloe, I hope you’re ready for the quiz today, or did your friends make your brain as hollow as your fashion skills? I could pull off that dress better than you.” Enrique- my nemesis, said. I couldn’t say anything. I was speechless. B, but I was also too tired to answer. He looked back at me expecting my look of defeat to placate his ego and pride. After he gazed upon my expression of weariness instead of loss, he looked worried for a split second, but then went ahead to his seat without giving it a second thought. I knew if I started thinking of anything negative at the moment, all my emotions could burst out.
We all settled down and started the class. That day went by fast. I couldn’t believe the last bell had rang. I waved my friends goodbye and started walking home. I reached the front door and I heard my mother’s sobs, louder than usual. I opened the door to see her crying her eyes out. She sprinted in my direction. She held my arms and asked me with a frightened look on her face, “Have you seen Adam? Did he come back in the morning? He left this… this letter.” Her voice broke down as tears overcame her. I read the letter to see why she was so worried.
Dear family,
I am going to leave this house for good. I am tired of being in such a household, so full of noises and violence. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry I was not enough for you to stop your arguments, mom and dad. I don’t know how you will treat Chloe. Chloe, you can do this, just believe. My work cannot be done in such environments. So, I want to put all of you guys behind me. Have good lives. Dad, I hate you. It’s not like you care, but I just want you to know that I am tired. Mom, you are too much, I tried being there for you, but I am never enough. Chloe, do not interfere. It’s not your battle. Don’t come looking for me. I am too far out of your reach.
Sincerely,
Adam.
“What! How dare he. How selfish could he be! To leave me here in this mess! How could… could he do this t… to me?” I was both angry and overwhelmed. I couldn’t do this anymore. I ran outside, tired of everyone. The one person that was there for me, that I could trust, just abandoned me. This life may be unfair, but this is too much.
I ran. As fast as I could. As long as I was out of there. I found myself at the Graystone bridge. I looked into the horizon and I felt the sudden urge to get lost in that light. I stood at the edge and looked down. My body and heart were fairly tired. I felt so sad and conflicted. I felt a fresh cold breeze. I felt a smile on my face, a genuine one. I closed my eyes. ‘My life flashed before my eyes’ as they say.
“Wait! Don’t!” I heard a voice that startled me. Before I could look back at the person who called me, I lost my balance and fell into the water. I felt the harsh thud hit my back as I swiftly entered the water. I couldn’t stop myself from sinking. I accepted my fate and started sinking. As I felt my last breath leave my lungs, I felt satisfaction. I was happy I enjoyed my time with my friends. ‘Wait, my friends! It was Delilah who called me!’ I tried to reach the surface after that realisation. Nothing I did helped. I felt my eyelids get heavier and heavier. Just before I blacked out, I felt a soft grip on my wrist. I cracked my heavy eyelids for a bit to see my saviour. But there was one question in my head, “Did Delilah really need me? Do I really want to be saved?”
To be continued…