“Stay right where you are, okay? You’re doing a great job, honey.” My mother tucked her face under the edge of the bed to get close to Micah.
“Eight!” my father’s voice echoed over the granite stone. “Seven!”
“Okay, Col, shut and lock the door.” My mother grimaced. “Say it back—shut and lock.”
I drew in a shaky breath and swallowed. “Shut and lock.”
“No matter what happens, what’s your job?”
“Six!” my father’s voice boomed. “Five! Your ass better be at the door or you’re as good as dead! Four!”
“To keep Amalee and Micah safe.” I pushed back tears.
“And what else? I need you to tell me again what you’re going to do—I need you to say it again.”
“Three!” my father’s voice threatened even louder.
Tears ran down my cheeks, and I quickly wiped them away with trembling fingers. Helplessness tightened my chest. “Shut and lock the door. I’ll keep them safe.”
“Good job, Son.” My mother placed a hand on each of my cheeks and kissed my forehead.
“Two!” My father’s counting always slowed as the deadline loomed.
It was a last-ditch effort he made to force my mother into compliance. On the rare occasion she didn’t acquiesce to his terms, we were punished heavily for the choice. On one particular occasion, he forced down the door, and the beating my mother took kept her bedridden for days.
She stood, lifted her chin, and extended a hand to me. Amalee’s meager chant played on repeat behind us. I accepted our fate and trailed my mother to the only barrier keeping the predator at bay.
“That’s it!” He booted the door again, splintering the wood from the bottom to top. “If only you’d use your head for once in your fucking life.”
“I’m coming,” my mother called out through a quivering voice, though she tried to keep her tone light. She turned and looked up at me. I’d gained a foot on her the prior year. She was smaller, yet she faced a man taller than me head-on. “Your job is to keep your sister and brother safe.”
With a long inhale and slow exhale, she settled in and reached for the doorknob. The moment she twisted the lock, the barrier flung inward, knocking her back a step.
“Good girl,” my father’s words drawled before he lunged toward her.
I went to move between them, but my father threw out a hand. The force that met my face was more than I’d ever felt. The blow swept me off my feet, sent me tumbling to the ground, and left my ears ringing with pain.
With a fistful of my mother’s hair, he pulled her towards him and dragged her into the corridor. I scrambled to my feet as he yanked her from the doorway she clung to. Fear flashed acrossher face for only a moment, before she stilled her expression and stopped resisting.
“Your job!” she shouted in my direction.
My eyes darted to the still-open door. Amalee’s small voice rambled in the room while my mother’s grunted cries echoed in the hall. Whichever choice I made, someone would be left vulnerable. But I’d promised my mother. Shut. Lock. Keep them safe. I’d made a promise, and I would keep my word even though I knew she’d suffer for it.
Hours passed as I paced the room while my sister and Micah remained fast asleep and curled in the corner. The silence was deafening; I preferred the chaos of my father’s rage over not knowing the condition of my mother. When I was sure he hadn’t waited on the other side of the door, I quietly made my way into the hall. Heel to toe, I walked to my parents’ room, pressing the sword into the side of my leg to avoid any unnecessary clattering.
Putting my ear against their bedroom door, I found the space quiet. Hoping he’d fallen asleep, I slowly turned the knob, being sure to take my time as the mechanics disengaged.
With the curtains partially drawn, my eyes scanned the shadows. He was asleep on the bed, but my mother wasn’t at his side. Silently reminding myself to be cautious, I crept across the room. If he woke, his wrath would be worse than whatever my mother had met.
Rounding the bed, a shadowy figure lay crumpled on the ground between the bed and the wall. In my panic, I dashed to her side, blade scraping against the stone floor as I dropped to a knee. I shot my head up to find my father still passed out and snoring.
My mother’s body was curled on its side, long brown hair spilling over her face. Turning her onto her back, a barely warm, thick, sticky substance coated my palm; the amount ofblood oozing from her head was alarming. Too frequently, she’d had swollen eyes, cuts across her lips, and scabbed fingers from her nails being ripped from their beds. We’d all been his victim at one point or another, but the injuries were never so severe.
My father’s rage had gone past the point of dismissing his behavior on a foul mood or the stress of running the kingdom. His next tantrum could cost my mother her life, and if I were left to choose one of my parents, I would choose her every single time. It was at that moment I knew one of us wouldn’t be leaving.
There was a brief window for me to act, and though I hated leaving my mother’s unmoving body on the floor, there was no time to tend to her wounds. Unleashing my magic, I felt the tingling sensation move through me as my eyes shifted to onyx and I narrowed in on my father.
The air was thick as magic buzzed, voiding everyone in its wake. There was a real possibility he’d kill me, but I’d willingly die for the slim chance to keep him from harming another member of my family ever again.
