Broken

mother bear

The bruise was a perfect shade of black sitting prettily on her cheek bone. Not as pretty as the line of blood on light's pretty wrist.

She saw it. She saw it. And now her husband laid unconscious on the floor while she admired the pretty bloom of victory on her face.

Never had she been happy to be beaten because this time she had fought the animal that had bitten at her heels and attacked her daughter.

Perhaps the push of her child hurting herself had been the final push.

Seeing the fine line of crimson adorning the wrist of her beautiful light, a razor in her right hand. It was enough...enough to add fuel to the slowly cooking fire in her belly.
She had locked her child inside her room, picked up the wedding frame on the wall...the worst decision she had taken because she had wanted her mother to look at her and her father to hold her hand...and then with reckless abandon, hit him from behind.

The bastard was stunned, falling to his knees, before he could even fathom anything, she had returned the hit again, the wood and glass lodging in his neck.

She flings the rest away and quietly walks to their bedroom. The hallway fizzing at the edge, slowly spinning, her fingers caressing the wall, touching the cold metal of the picture frames...the evidence of her pathetic choice.
Then reaching the room she conceived her little light, the only testament of her suffering she sits calmly on the bed .

The filthy vermin staggers into the room cradling his neck.

He stumbles to his knees and then anger...shock...disbelief, he says
"Dami...why...".

His wife...his woman attacking him. Why...

From behind, a strong arm pushes him in.
"She's doing what needed to be done" his wife's sister, Oliver says.

When did she get here, here he was pushed into the room, she standing at the entrance, his daughter standing behind Oliver.

"Are you okay sister?"

Dami smiles and she stands up, her eyes not leaving her daughter's face. Her only reason to fight.

"Yes I am. My baby likes her apples peeled please. Her custard warm. When she's done. Put her to bed."

What in God's name was going on...

Oliver nods and then closes the door leaving Richard trapped inside with dami.

"You act like...you can do anything" He says, still on his knees.

Perhaps she could not do anything. Perhaps she could die. But one thing was certain. He was not leaving this room.

Light sits on one of the armchairs, a small red bowl of peeled apples in front of her. Her bandaged wrist resting on her lap. She hears nothing from her parents room.

Funny that everytime he hurt her she heard everything. Now it was quiet. The only sound was her aunt arranging a gun.

An aunt she had never seen.

A loud thud...a piercing scream and they both stood up. Oliver looked to the direction of that cretin's room.

"Take it. Light"

Light looks away from the direction of the carnage to the black weapon.

"Your bastard father must not walk out this house"

She wants to pee. Her cold sweaty hand hold the butt of the gun.

"Just pull the trigger once he walks out the door".

Then pushing her to the front, Oliver stands behind her. A wall...an unmoving wall behind her.

She raises the gun to the entrance.

Weeks...days...years passes and a small laugh so familiar, so tender jolts her from her travel.

Her mother, her hero holding herself against the wall...bloodied and bruised so much....it looked so beautiful.

The weapon fell, her knees shook, threatening to give way. It did not want to hold her up. Her mother seeing the paleness of her face and the shaking of her knees quickly moves foward and holds her before she hits the ground.

Light did not know when she started to cry. She never cried when he hit her so hard she fainted.

But the sight of her mother bloodied because she fought for her sent her over.

The room was quiet save for the loud wailing of a distressed child.

Paying the child no mind and letting her express her pain, she turns to Oliver to glare at her.

Oliver laughs raising her hand in surrender.

"What! I knew he wasn't getting past you. Even if he did, he wouldn't get past me."

Another further glaring.

"Dami please, it's not that bad. He literally bashes her head in every beautiful Tuesday. She'll be fine."

With a sigh, dami says, " you need help"

Oliver laughs and then pull up a bag from behind the couch heading to the direction of the carnage.

"Who screamed like that?"

Dami laughs, "Richard, he screamed like a child"

"I knew it. He's never had anyone fighting him back. Let me go and clean up your mess"

Dami nods in answer.

Then once her sister departs, she sits down, holding her sleepy baby.

This was the first time in years, she held her baby...touched her baby. All was right in the world now.

She was a mother now. A true mother. A true mother destroyed the threat to her child.

A true mother fought to the death for her child.

A true mother lives for her child.

And dies for her child.