Fallen
Tags: Fami, Fiction, Abuse

Photo by Doug Linstedt on Unsplash

Rain pelted on the windows of her house on Elm Street.

The woods around it stood grim and deadly; their stony silence occasionally interrupted by the rage of thunder that would shake the ground, and their darkness unsettled by flashes of lightning that punctured the sky.

Inside, she sat by the fireplace, hugging her slender legs to her body. With her scarred face turned towards the flames and her long blond curls spread over the length of her back, she looked chilled and white despite the heat that tingled her skin, for pain was the only feeling she allowed to settle in on her.

As she stared, looking a pretty picture of misery, each flicker of the fire seemed to add another old memory into the confusing jumble that already polluted her head, and sent shivers down her spine.

She shut her eyes tight; a vain attempt to hush her thoughts and pause the pain that pierced her heart.

The memory stayed, nevertheless.

As the flames danced to their own rhythm, her focus unwillingly shifted to a scene playing at the back of her mind.

A warm October day.

Autumn leaves: russet, orange, red, and bronze, all covered the path she was treading on.

She took light steps, tipping her brunette hat ever so slightly to the right, leaving her hair to fall in gentle curls from beneath it.

The soft colours of her long skirt elegantly melted into the hues of the autumn sun.

She loved how the wind breezed through her hair and playfully tickled her neck.

Tilting her head to one side, almost unmindful of her usual charm; she took each step with care, afraid that any coming moment shall yank her out from her fragile paradise, leaving a wavering smile on her lips.

He walked with her; strong in stature, hands in the pockets of his jeans; having no trouble in keeping up with her pace.

He looked handsome.

Dangerously handsome.

Anyone could tell they were the perfect couple; with she, with her stunning beauty and delicacy, and he, with his remarkable strength and stature; a pearl protected by a strong shell.

“Abigale,” he said. His voice was heavy, almost dominant over her soft and wonderous one.

“Yes, Mika?” She stopped to look around.

He had stopped a few feet behind her, now staring intently at something on the ground.

Even with his head bent, she could feel the ecstasy that had overcome him as he examined his new find with his vale, deep-set eyes.

Picking it up, he clutched his target so hard the liquid oozed out of his fingers. She inhaled a sharp breath.

As he walked over to her, Abigale could already feel her euphoria starting to melt away.

What would he have now? She wondered.

It had been two years, yet she still failed to predict his actions, always struggling to figure out if she should deem them as dangerous or deadly.

The only two options to choose from.

He stopped right in front of her, towering over her like a beast in guise, and slowly opened his fist.

She saw it; black wings spotted with red and white, now crushed to a pulp. It lay distorted on the palm of his hand. A dead butterfly.

“Mika!”

Only his name had dared to escape her lips; her voice dipped in shock and dismay.

He had done this on purpose, and she knew it.

He stood smiling his lazy smile. His right cheek spotted with a small cleft and his threatening vale eyes boring into her sinless brown ones.

She averted her gaze.

He knew she loved butterflies. He had seen her so often, chasing after them, laughing heartily in her playfulness. But that was him; never missing the chance to demean her pleasure.

Another boom of thunder brought her back to her house on Elm street.

Exhaling a shaky breath, she got up, making it weakly towards the window.

The storm still raged on, outside and within her.

It had been a year now, yet he still clung to her thoughts like a leech sucking on her blood. Now, looking outside, she desperately wished the rain would wash away all the memories she had of him. The scars he had left on her skin still burned, and the wounds he had punched in her heart still ached.

Yet, there was one night that had impaired her memories for life; sounds of her helpless screams and his evil laughter. It wasn’t the first time she had seen the wild beast inside of him come out, yet it was in its most animal form this time; taking pleasure in tearing her apart.

Devasted, she had run away from his torments, with frail, sinking hopes of starting anew.

The loud rumbling of the storm brought her attention back to the present, yet she stayed anchored to the ground.

Staring at the rain pouring outside, she stood waiting for the memories to play in her head in their usual order; allowing them to hammer at her sanity and leaving gashes that she would never be able to mend.

She stood numb; a thin frame by the window, as her wounds burned and her heart ailed; having submitted to the torture these recollections always brought with them.