Family Hell

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, girl!"

A harsh slap connects with a soft, young cheek of a little girl, nearly powerful enough to blast her whole head off and flying across the room. She doesn't make a sound, only grits her teeth tightly together in hopes of defying the pain that shoots through her bloodstream as the bruise slowly starts to form upon her porcelain white skin. Stench of alcohol is strongly present in the air of the room, along with the seeping malice and hatred. It all radiated from a huge, cruel bulk of a man that stood before her, easily leaving her white figure under his massive shadow.

"Please leave her alone darling.. you know that she's a little foolish, it isn't always easy for her to understand. Forget her and let me make you feel better.." White hands sneaked from behind the man to caress his broad chest, words that were to be confident with seduce came out as pathetic pleads. The man, whose golden brown eyes were burning with anger for the weak womanhood, grabs the delicate arms that are embracing him and pulls them apart from his body, as if fearing the filth they might be spreading over his supposed pureness, turning around. A girl watches passively as he throws the woman roughly on the floor, giving her a ruthless kick. She doesn't make a move to escape from his horrifying scene. She doesn't even dare to move.

"Don't EVER come to tell me what I should do!" the man hisses to the fallen woman, staring at her hatefully for a long time before turning back to the girl, facing her expressionless mask of serenity.

"Aren't you just so pitiful.." Hand rises yet again and smacks the girl down on the floor, causing her to fall down with a loud thud. Her lower lip has started to bleed, crimson liquid slides it's way down her jawline to her throat. The man looms over her figure, saliva forming up in the corners of his mouth and eyes gleaming with insanity as he kneels down on the floor, his lips stretching into a vicious smile.

"You're just like your mother.. a disgusting little slut, just begging to be used. Is that you are? A whore?!" He hits the girl, watching with sadistic amusement when a cry of agony finally erupts from the dephts of her body, barely carrying itself to his ears.

The girl lies still, too numb to move as her skirt is torn, her body exposed to this horrible man who claims to be her father. She stares up in those brown eyes, her gaze burning with wordless hatred, then looks away, not wanting to see the monster he had become. She allows her mind to wither out from any thoughts or feelings, to drown in black dullness.

After all, it was the only way to escape the pain and horror that threatened to consume her.

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She is still lying there on the floor when the morning conquers it's place in the circle of a day back from the night that had held on so dearly, still and silent. Her wide, crystal green eyes are empty, lifeless. There is a huge, gaping wound splitting her chest, lively crimson of her blood dried and turned pitch black against her white skin.

Her mother is sitting on the floor, rocking herself back and forth with her forehead pressed against her knees and her knees pulled up against her chest, sobbing silently. The man is lying on the floor as well, his eyes staring blankly at the roof, the painful light of insanity and hatred still present in his brown gaze. Hilt of a knife stands out from his chest, with it's blade plunged deep into his black heart of ice. Stench of tattered lives has replaced the clean air, driving in the nostrils and thus in the lungs of the last person who is still alive in the tiny house of destruction.

Children are playing outside, their lively laughter ringing in the air as they chase butterflies or each other, lovers share deep kisses of affection while spending yet another day of happiness in the nearby park, and others are just enjoying the beauty of life, either in delightful loneliness or in the company of the lifetime friends. Nobody notices that one certain door of once certain house never flows open that day, or that there are no sorrow-stricken faces glaring at the passing by beings while sighing in desperation, before pulling back in their shadowed lives.

Not until the night falls, and they hear no screams of family hell shattering the otherwise unbreakable peace of their little village.