I go into the house at about 2:07 am.
No ones ever home anyways.
Going in, everything is dark except for flickering lights of the wifi router. Hearing my own footsteps, I take my time climbing up the stairs.
I hear thuds.
Then loud banging.
My heart misses a few beats.
I stop midway on the staircase, drop the car keys and wallet and hurry towards the noise.
To be very honest; I’m well acquainted with what I’ll see. Until this day, it never seizes to churn my heart. I am well accustomed to those shrieks and thuds and sounds that only something too human and too fragile would’ve made.
I burst into the bedroom finding her curled up soaked wet in her underwear; hugging her knees, rocking back and forth. Hair stuck to her face. Sobs only God could recognize as prayers.
I swear to any God that believes me; as much as that boy scarred her, seeing her like this scars me just as much. My own sister. Fighting the only reason she’s alive. Herself.
Seeing her project every misplaced hate and distrust, every bent perspective onto her body. Her vocal cords see no mercy.
I look around noticing a broken chair, blood prints on the bathroom door handle, a sound indicated that the shower is still on, an empty drawer due to the fact that the contents were spilled all over the floor. Pills.
My tears are at the edge of my tear duct. Throat in lumps. I swallow it all in. Trying to be composed. Whats next won’t be easy. I can’t do this to her. I can’t break down because I can’t handle what I see. I have to carry her in. If I don’t, no one will.
Her sobs grow into shrieks again. “Hey now” I kneel beside her trying to get her body closer to mine. She’s holding her body too tight that her fingernails dug into her legs to an extremity that they started to bleed.
“I saw him again” she says while trembling.
note: There’s going to be more than one part if you didn’t notice which I’ll try to keep up frequently.