As long as you love me

***

In the dimly lit apartment, the creaking stairs signaled his return, and my heart sank. The scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air, a chilling prelude to the storm about to erupt. Swiftly, I rushed to my two children, a silent promise to shield them from the chaos that was sure to follow.

"The closet, quickly," I whispered urgently to my daughters. They nodded, wide-eyed and scared, and we huddled together in our makeshift sanctuary.

As we crouched in the cramped space, fear palpable, my daughter whispered, "Mom, why does he always do this?"

I stroked her hair gently, struggling to find the right words. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. He's just not feeling well right now."

The approaching footsteps grew louder, echoing through the narrow hallway. Panic set in as I clutched my children tightly, their small frames trembling in my arms. The fumbling of keys outside the door heightened the tension, a cruel prelude to the impending confrontation.

With a deafening bang, the door swung open, and there he stood – a volatile mix of anger and inebriation. "What are you all doing in here?" he slurred, his gaze piercing through the darkness.

"We just needed a quiet place, that's all," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Well, you shouldn't be hiding from me!" he shouted, his anger escalating.

One of my daughter buried her face in my shoulder, and the other clutched my hand, her eyes wide with terror.

The room fell into a tense silence broken only by the soft sobs of my frightened children. My heart ached at their suffering, intensified by my inability to shield them from the very person who should have provided safety and love.

Yet, a haunting dilemma loomed. Escaping seemed like an enticing idea, a chance to break free from the chains of abuse. But where could we go? How could I navigate the unknown with the weight of responsibility for my two children's well-being?

Despite the agony, a bitter truth remained – my husband, flawed and tormenting, also provided the meager stability that kept us afloat. The thought of leaving meant forsaking that stability, plunging us into an abyss of uncertainty.

Desperation clawed at my soul as I yearned for a savior, someone to offer a lifeline in this sea of despair. The walls echoed with unspoken pleas, reverberating the silent cries for help within my heart. If only there was a beacon of hope to guide us through the darkness, to rescue us from a life stained with fear and pain.