Page 4 of The Threads Of Fate
SMACK
A sharp sting on my cheek stuns me into silence. I move my hand towards where he struck me. He rarely does that. Before today, he was always drunk when he did it. Maybe I pushed him too far.
“Do not curse at me. You were singing that weird fucked up song you used to sing as a kid.” Is he tripping? What is he talking about?
I hold my hand on my burning cheek, I’m sure that’s going to bruise in the morning.
“I wasn’t singing,” I answer him, my voice laced with anger. He seems displeased with my answer as he pushes me into the wall and grabs the collar of my shirt again, holding me up on my tippy toes.
“You are a freak, as fucked up as that bitch of a mother of yours.” I grab and claw at the hand that is holding my shirt, trying to make him let go of me.
“Stop, let go!” He doesn’t move an inch, and I start kicking him. He grunts the moment I hit his bad knee, finally letting go, and I run as fast as I can upstairs. Slamming my door in one hard hit, I move to push my wardrobe in front of it. I wasn’t allowed a key to lock it, so I’ll have to improvise.
BANG BANG BANG
“You open this door right now!” He’s shouting and banging on the door like Johnny fromThe Shining. Thankfully, he’s no match for the closet I placed in front of it. He used to be afootball player but got injured during a game, and never fully recovered from it. Relief courses through me, and I sit down on the opposite side and stare at the shaking closet, waiting for him to finally give up.
Something dark flashes to my right, and I turn to look, but all I see is my old toy chest. The loud knocks are finally starting to subside, and the only thing my father grunts out before stopping is that I won’t get any food today. He’s done that before, multiple times, and because of that, I now keep food hidden in between my underwear. It’s not very healthy food, but at least I won’t go to sleep hungry again.I can’t wait to get away from this place.
Staring at the door, I wait to make sure he’s fully gone before I drop my shields.Instead of focusing on the sounds of his footsteps leaving, there is this strange need to go and open the chest. It doesn’t feel right, yet I feel like something bad will happen if I don’t.
Walking over there, I open the lid, and the first thing that greets me is the bright blue eyes of my beautiful porcelain Seraphina doll. Grabbing her, I smile– I have always loved how she looked. Seraphina is the reason I started dying my hair black.
I don’t remember why I put her in the chest back then, but oh well, I don’t remember much of my childhood anyway. Not that I would want to if I could.
Gently, I put her on the bed and grab some dry clothes. Once I’m all dressed, I climb under the covers and close my eyes. If I wish to avoid my father in the morning, I’ll have to get up early. My eyes are getting heavy, and I’m feeling that half-asleep daze.
Come, my sweet, don’t try to fight,
My arms will hold you tight.
Thread by thread, your path is sewn,
Each stitch a secret you’ve not known.
I hum the fate you cannot flee,
My cracks are kind–just stay with me.
Close your eyes, don’t pull the thread…
Or find what waits when dreams are dead.
I know I’m dreaming, but hearing that song again, the one my mom used to sing to me, gives me this strange feeling, one that is a mixture of worry and calmness. I hum to it until it all turns dark.
TIK TIK TIK TIK
Pulling my headphones off, I look around. I swear I just heard something besides the songVore by Sleep Tokenplaying softly through my headphones. Slowly, I get out of bed.
TIK TIK
Following the sound, I walk over to my window, looking down. My mouth opens, I quickly move my hand in front of it, am I crazy, or am I seeing Covin standing right there, in my garden, throwing rocks at my window? How does he even know where I live? He sees me looking and starts to wave. I open my window, hoping my father won’t see him, and lean forward so I don’t have to shout too hard to make him hear me.
“What are you doing here?” I try to be as quiet as possible, but it’s hard when he's all the way down there.
“You didn’t go to school.” He looks at me and stops in his tracks, his mouth a tight line. “What happened to you? Did someone hurt you,Vespera?” I hold my hand to my cheek, it’s sore and blue, and the reason why I decided to stay home, thelast thing I need is people finding out things to hold over me. How does he even know I didn’t go? I’ve never seen him there before.
“I had a fight yesterday evening.” I don’t tell him who it was, since, well, I don’t know him, and the last thing I need is him making a scene over here.
