Sunlight streamed through the large windows illuminating the room. The house was perfect. Minerva took my hand and enclosed her fingers around mine. As I looked into her eyes I felt as if I could stay in this moment forever. The living room had velvet, rose colored armchairs and a circular, brown table in the middle. The whole house felt like a time capsule from the past, all the furniture and decor vintage. As the beautiful daydream of the past slipped away, I snapped back to reality. The room once filled with light was dark and dreary.

The air felt thick and damp, cigarette smoke swirling in the air. Curtains covered the windows shedding a sliver of light on the tattered furniture and stained carpet. I had grown familiar with every stain and rip on the dull pink chair I sat in. The carpet crunched beneath my feet. I took one last drag of my cigarette and then twisted it in the ashtray until it refused to burn. Her words echoed in my head, “You’re a worthless, self-serving dog!” Even though I knew it wasn't true, I never said anything different. There was a time when everything was sweet, she would come home from work and look at me like I was the only one in the world that mattered. Her sweet words now turned sour, she looked at me only with judgement and scrutiny. I jumped as the door slammed, she's back. 

“It looks like crap in here, you couldn't even clean while I was gone?” Her words cut like a knife. I simply sat in silence with my head down. “What? You can't even talk to me anymore?” 

My body started to tremble and my heart started beating faster. All the things I always wanted to say to her swirled in my head, all the times I never spoke up for myself screamed at me to say something now. Instead I continued to cower and assumed the same position as I always did, her personal doormat. 

“I’m sorry” I mumbled. 

My misery was soon met with a hard slap to the face. The pain that was once emotional was now physical. She left the room with an annoyed sigh and slammed the door to our room. I sat in the room that once comforted me but now was a living nightmare and cried until I couldn't. I held a hand on my stinging cheek for momentary comfort, and then lit a cigarette. I sat watching the smoke swirl through the air and contemplated what my life would be like. I hoped one day I would be as free as the smoke that danced through the air. 

I awoke hours later still in the chair, the world had turned dark and the only light in the room came from the streetlamps  peeking through the curtains. My face was still sore and bruises dotted my legs. It wasn't the first time she had been violent, but it started to happen more often. It started with yelling that escalated to screaming which led to her hitting me. I never fought back, simply because Minerva was stronger than me and I could never hit her regardless. Despite all she has put me through, I love her. She helped me escape my abusive parents and gave me a home, she was the only family I had. I hoped it would get better, that we could return to the way things were before the fighting, but something inside me knew that wasn't the case. 

I pushed myself off the chair and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The fluorescent light flickered as it turned on, the light illuminating my pale face. I looked in the mirror. I had deep eye sockets and eye bags that made me look like a racoon. My dark brown hair surrounded my face and ended at my collarbones. There was still a red mark on my face. I knew that I should leave, but I felt guilty. She had done so much for me and we had been through so much together, I felt as if I couldn't live without her no matter how toxic it may be.

I left the bathroom and padded down the hallway, being sure not to make a sound. I peeked into our room which contained nothing but an empty bed with crumpled sheets and a wooden bedside table. Minerva had gone, most likely to the bar. Whenever she finally came home she was drunk, and that's when the fighting started. The violence increased as the drinking did. A sudden pain in my stomach interrupted my thoughts. Food. When was the last time I ate? I put together a sandwich in the kitchen and plopped back down into my pink chair. This chair had always brought me comfort despite the weary discomfort this house now caused. As I sat back in the chair I began to feel my eyelids get heavy and feel myself slip into another reality. I was in an empty field full of wildflowers. The sun was bright and the sky was blue. I could see myself sprint and dance in the field like a young doe. A river flowed through the field and into the valley. I felt the green grass between my toes. This is what it felt like to be free.

My slumber was suddenly disturbed by the sound of Minerva crashing through the house, rattling the walls as she stomped down the hall. It was early in the morning now. She was still drunk, and angry. Rubbing my eyes awake, vision still blurry, Minerva appeared suddenly in front of me, mumbling something incomprehensible. I looked up at her with fear and curiosity “What? I can't hear you.” As soon as I said it I regretted it. The look in her eyes was one of pure anger. 

“I said no one ever listens to me!” She yelled in my face. 

I looked back up at her. My eyes filled with tears and a fire brewed in my chest. 

“You can't treat me like this anymore!” I yelled with all the power I had. My heart felt as if it was beating out of my chest but was soon met with a more intense feeling. A fist came straight towards my face and landed on my nose. My nose stung and the tears finally freed themselves from my eyes. Blood spilled from my nose and onto my shirt. I got off the chair and pushed her aside. She said something but I couldn't hear her. I made my decision. I grabbed a bag and filled it with anything I could see. I pushed past her again and slammed the door behind me. The cold air hit my face, reminding me of the sting all over again. I didn't know where I was going but I knew that I never wanted to see her again.