My bones shake and my muscles tighten as the glass falls from the tray onto the wooden floor and shatters into a billion pieces. My eyes and mouth widen in fear, as I get down to the floor and try to gather all the tiny pieces. I grit my teeth at the pain of the glass piercing my knees and hands.
“What’s taking so long?” My father roars, filling the whole entire house with his echoes.
“Nothing father!” I stammer, “Just trying to catch those damn mice again”
I continue to scoop up the glass shards, despite the pain, with millions of pieces sticking to my hands, arms, legs and knees. I suddenly hear his footsteps rumbling through the living room and up the stairs. I pray to God that something stops that vile man from entering the kitchen, but he doesn’t seem to hear my prayers.
“Linda!” he howls, “Where’s my dinner? Why is there bloody glass everywhere?” He glares viciously at me. Knowing my fate, I quickly start approaching the nearest corner, knowing what was about to happen. He starts walking towards me with a sadistic smile on his face and pulls out his black leather belt slowly from his dark blue jeans. He wraps the end of the belt around his hand, making sure that the silver metal buckle is right on the front so that it would be the first thing that slashes my existing bruises.
“Daddy please,” I cry as my hands try to cover every part of my body to protect myself from the awaiting pain.
“Believe me, I don’t enjoy this any more than you do,” he lies, barely covering his sneer. He strikes the first hit on my shoulder, then on my cheek. I sink down to the floor, the noise of my cries and the whooshes from the belt filing the kitchen. I whimper and wince at every impact, weeping for help, but no one hears me. Slowly, I begin to feel numb to the pain as he slows down and comes to a stop.
Gasping for breath, he takes the nearest towel and goes to the sink to wash his face.
“Remember Linda, all women are meant to serve men.”
He turns on the faucet and water flushes out onto his hands as he begins to wash his face. I slowly push myself up, my blurry vision coming into focus on the shiny pot with boiling water on the stove. I hesitate, looking back at my father and the pot, wondering if I would regret my decision. This is my only chance. I grab the pot by its handle with both of my hands and smash it against my father’s head. He falls down and howls in pain as I drop the pot from shock at what I did. But soon, I begin to feel rage.
“Remember Father, girls aren’t meant to serve anyone but themselves,” I hiss before running out of the kitchen and into the hallway before he could get up.
“LINDA!” He screams in anger, but I don’t care. The only thing I could see was the light behind the entrance door. My hands shake as I begin to unlock it with the keys I had found in my father’s room previously this morning. Just as I hear him go down the stairs, the door opens and I run out.
I stop in the middle of the busy intersection, inhaling the outside and admiring the city that I had only been able to see through the windows. I turn around to see my father hissing at me to come back. Despite that, I manage to actually genuinely smile for the first time. After all these years, I felt more powerful than I ever did before. I turn and walk to the nearest police station, knowing that my life was about to change for the better.
the essence of freedom