Chapter 6
Every evening brought the same dread. The sun would sink, the shadows would stretch across the floors, and I would know that soon I would be back in a place that promised warmth but delivered tension.
Evenings felt like walking into a battlefield. I never knew what awaited me. I never knew if today would be calm or erupt into words and actions I could not control. But I always knew that something bad was coming, like a silent alarm ringing only in my chest.
At school, I would find fleeting freedom. The night air was paradise, cool, quiet, full of the promise of space I could breathe in. I could laugh. I could walk without fear. But the thought of going home brought knots to my stomach.
I did not know exactly what form the danger would take, sometimes it was words, sometimes it was cold stares, sometimes it was being ignored when I needed help most, but I knew it was inevitable.
People would ask me, "Why don't you like going home for holidays?" And I would stammer, "I do go home…" but I could not finish. Because home wasn't about the building, the rooms, the furniture.
Home was about the people inside it. The very people who should have been my safe place.