୨ৎ R A I N N ୨ৎ
"Slut," Amilio snarled as he shoved me into the house.
Our family used to be full of love and laughter, before Papa and Minna, Amilio's mother, died. Now all that remained was despair and violence.
Amilio's palm slammed into the back of my neck, sending me stumbling forward. I crashed onto the floor, my head throbbing like it might split open. My bag slid under the table. Before I could even get up, his foot kicked hard into my right side.
The first time he ever hit me, my eye had turned black. I could not leave the house for two weeks. People kept asking questions, and Amilio got annoyed. Since then, he rarely touched my face.
"Because of you, I only have one damn month to find that money! I have to sell part of my assets!"
Another kick landed in my stomach, knocking the air straight out of me. My vision blurred, tears streamed down my cheeks, but all I could do was whimper and endure the pain. Begging or talking back was useless. It only made Amilio angrier. So I curled up into myself, pulling my body into a fetal position, arms wrapped around my stomach.
His shoe pressed into my back, all his weight bearing down on me. "Yeah. One day, I'm going to kill you," he said. The pressure lifted, and I heard him walk away toward the living room.
Bastard.
I slowly pushed myself up, fighting the pain spreading through my body. I left my bag under the table. Leaning against the wall, I limped my way to my bedroom.
Was the inheritance really worth this?
I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. "God, I miss Papa," I sobbed.
I could barely remember my mother's face, but everyone said I looked just like her.
Papa loved me more than anything until the day he died. Even after he married Minna, nothing changed. I felt lucky to have a loving stepmother and an older brother. My life had been perfect, until both of them were gone.
Suddenly, Amilio banged on my bedroom door, making me flinch. "Hey, bitch. Clean up the living room!"
I closed my eyes, swallowed my tears, and answered, "Okay."
He finally left. I unlocked the door and peeked outside. Amilio's bedroom door was closed. He had moved into our parents' room a month after the funeral. When I protested, he slapped me so hard my teeth nearly fell out. He said he deserved the master bedroom now, since he was the head of the family.
The first time he beat me, I cried until my chest hurt. I did not understand how he could change so drastically. But over time, I realized he had always been cruel. He was just good at hiding it from our parents.
I rushed to the bathroom and swallowed a few painkillers to dull the ache in my side. Back in the living room, I grabbed my bag from the sofa. My eyes landed on shards of broken glass scattered across the floor and whisky splashed up the wall.
I let out a long breath. "Oh God." Then I went to the kitchen to grab cleaning supplies. "You can survive two more years. You need that inheritance to leave and start a new life."
One by one, I picked up the broken glass and threw it into the trash, then wiped down the wall. When I was done, I returned to the kitchen. It was the only place in this house that gave me peace. I loved cooking and baking.
To forget all the chaos, I started making an apple pie for the afternoon. As I peeled the apples one by one, the tension slowly faded. The painkillers began to work, and the ache eased a little.
My knife sliced thinly through an apple. My thoughts drifted. "If only one day I could move to a small town, meet a kind man, have a house with a wooden fence, maybe three or four kids, and live a simple life. I would be a housewife, cooking dinner every time my husband came home from work. Far away from Amilio. Far away from Marunda."