Haven

"Hi honey, how was-"  Mom's words were interrupted by the sound of a slap, and she yelped.

I heard her stagger and run up the stairs. Knowing she would be there, I rushed to my door and let her in.

Her face was flushed and the remnants of a white handprint were visible on her cheek. Tears formed in her eyes as she held her hand up to the rapidly swelling mark.

Of course.

My dad had come home drunk. Again.

"Haven..." she whispered, the fear clear in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Mom. I won't let him hurt you."

"Haven! Where are you, you sad excuse for a human being?" my dad bellowed from the other room. The sound of his harsh voice echoed and bounced off the walls. "I have a surprise for you!"

I tensed, clenched my teeth, and stood in front of my mom.

He stormed into my room a couple seconds later, just as I had predicted. He leaned in close to my face - close enough that I could feel his unshaven stubble rubbing on the side of my cheek - and looked at me smugly. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his watery, red eyes were cold, hard, and flat.

Without warning, he slapped me across the cheek and sent my head reeling backwards.

Biting my tongue so hard I could taste blood, I didn't say anything. I knew it would be no use. I had learned the unpleasant way that provoking him only made things worse. He always had to win; he always had to have his way with things. If he didn't, he raised hell.

Instead, I put one hand up to my face and kept the other one clenched into a fist at my side to prevent myself from doing something he would later make me regret.

"Get out of my room," I deadpanned, trying to keep my voice calm and stable. My heart almost stopped when he gave me the coldest smile I had ever seen. His purple, smoker lips curled into a sinister grin, pulling back to reveal all of his yellow, unkempt teeth.

"You wish, little girl." He grabbed a hold of my wrist, twisting it like he was wringing out a wet towel.

"Get out," I snarled again, still trying not to lose my cool but failing miserably.

"Or what?" His fingernails dug into my skin until they turned white from the pressure.

Ouch.

I struggled against his tight hold and shook my arm until it was finally free from his grip. He looked surprised that I was able to escape, but his expression quickly morphed to one of amusement. He sneered and continued his taunts while my mother cried helplessly behind us. 

"It's just you and me, angel. No one can save you now."

"You don't scare me, Father," I lied.

Gathering the courage, I walked out of my room with Mom in tow while Dad trailed behind us. I flung open the front door, and the sound of it hitting the wall made me jump.

I turned back around to face my dad and stepped to the side, pointing to the door to indicate he needed to leave.

"G-go now, Father, before I call the police," I said with my jaw clenched. My voice gave away and trembled before I could stop it, but I held my ground.

He looked to me and scoffed.

"You're going to call the police, huh? You think they're going to help an ugly, self-loathing girl like you?" He laughed. "I should've dropped you on your head when you were born. I would've done the world a favor."

I saw him draw his fist back another time. I shut my eyes and waited for the blow, wondering why I had to go through this.

Why I couldn't just have a normal, loving family? Why was my father a raging alcoholic?

Why me?

Before I could continue the rest of my self-pity party, I heard a sickening crunch and a loud, "OOOOF!"

My eyes flew open. My father was holding his hand up to his bloody nose, staring in disbelief at a shadow in the doorway.

"You stupid, arrogant asshole! Who do you think you are?" my father spat.

Silence.

He roared in amusement, trying to provoke the shadow. "You idiot." He turned to me and asked, "Is this your personal bodyguard now, Haven?"

Speechless, I said nothing.

More silence.

"God. I'm bleeding. You'll pay for this, dumbass!" My father screamed endless streams of curse words at the stranger standing in our doorway. His scabrous voice made my ears ring, and my headache returned once again, like a loyal puppy that never strayed too far.

My father suddenly shifted his attention back to me, as if he just remembered I was still there. He smirked and took a few steps in my direction.

"Little girl, I haven't given you your present yet," he taunted. He gave me a menacing glare and drew back his fist.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the door frame. It wrapped around my father's wrist, twisting it and blocking it from making contact with my face.

Dad's mouth opened, his jaw reaching the floor.

"I swear to heaven and back, if you don't get out of here, I'll make you wish you were dead," he hissed to the shadow. His voice dripped with venom and made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Dumbfounded, all I could do was stare at the door.

I barely made out the stranger's right shoe, a royal blue Converse with a little scuff mark on the tip.

I stepped a little closer and saw that the mark was actually the letter "R" written in thick, black Sharpie, probably by a bored student sitting through an hour of lecture in American History.

Who are you?

Before I could do anything else, the shoe was gone.

My father stormed out of the house, chasing after the stranger who had broken his nose.

"Come back here, you idiot!" Dad ran while still holding his hand to his bloodied face. "No one gets away with hitting Ethan Gold, especially not a piece of garbage like you!"

I slammed the front door and locked it, determined to lock him out before he realized he didn't have his key.

"Mom, are you okay?" I asked, whirling around and searching for her now that the coast was clear.

"Mom!"

She was on the floor with her limbs sprawled in all directions and angles.

"Mom? Mommy!" I cried out, holding her in my arms and rocking her head gently on my lap. Her face was shockingly pale, and there was blood on her lips.

I grabbed the pillows off of the couch, carefully maneuvering them so that her head was elevated.

"Mom, please wake up," I begged.

Her eyes opened slightly, and she groaned.

"I'm calling 911." My voice was shaky, but I tried to sound confident. "You'll be okay."

I took out my phone while simultaneously checking her body to make sure she wasn't injured in any other way.

"No honey, I'm fine... I think. I must've fainted from fatigue and stress. Was I out for long?"

"You're not 'fine', Mom. Why are you bleeding?"

"I think I might've bitten my tongue when I fell down. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt much," she said. She touched her lip, and the blood smeared onto her fingers. "I'm okay, Haven. Put the phone down."

I hesitated with my finger hovering over the call button. "Why did you faint?"

"I guess I haven't been taking very good care of myself. I haven't been too hungry these days, and I've been busy looking after your father." She sighed. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"I don't know why you stay with him. He's nothing but a drunken loser who spends all of our money on booze."

"He's your father, Haven."

"I know. But that doesn't mean I have to like him," I deadpanned.

My mom sighed and got up slowly, using me for support.

I set her down in a chair, making sure not to move her too quickly. "You sure you're okay? We can go to the emergency room if you're-"

"I'm not a child, so stop treating me like one," she snapped. "And don't think you've gotten away with sneaking away from the house tonight. You're grounded for the next week, and I expect you to do all the chores for the next month. You got that?"

I sighed at the sudden 180-degree turn in her attitude.

Nothing had changed.

That night, Dad came back and pounded on the door while I was washing the dishes.

"Open this door, Haven, you hairy twat, or I swear I will rip your limbs and throw them into the ocean one by one," he screamed as he kicked the door.

"Let him in, Haven," Mom murmured as she walked towards the door.

"No! What are you doing?" I cried out as I threw off my soapy gloves and ran to block the lock on the door with my body. "He can rot outside. Go to your room and rest, Mom. I'll take care of this."

"Let him in, Haven. It's cold outside."

"I'll deal with it," I repeated firmly.

"Alright. Don't let him stay outside all night long," she warned. She yawned and headed up the stairs to her room. "I like your limbs just the way they are."

After watching my mom leave, I turned towards the door.

"You don't deserve to live in this house, Father," I said, knowing he waiting on the other side.

"Open the damn door."

"No."

"Open it, punk. Or you'll regret it."

I tiptoed and looked through the peephole.

A red, veiny eyeball stared back at me. The blood vessels looked like they had popped and his eyes were glazed over, probably from the lack of sleep and amount of alcohol in his system. I gasped and quickly looked away.

"I'll take my chances," I countered in a resonant voice, silently begging that it wouldn't falter.

"You deserve to die, you ungrateful wench," he spat. Then he paused. "I never loved you, you know that? You are the reason why my life has turned to garbage. Everything is your fault. You should have never been born."

His words hurt more than his fists did.

"Goodnight, Father," I said, taking one more look into the peephole.

Throwing a look that could kill in my direction as if he knew I was watching, my father lifted up the left corner of his mouth in a smirk and kicked the door. Hard.

"I'll be back, angel, don't you fret," he promised as he laughed maliciously and backed away. "I'll be back for your limbs."

I would probably regret it later, but I wasn't going to let him into the house while he was still drunk. I knew he'd be back; my father wasn't one to admit defeat, and the shadow had definitely injured his pride tonight.

As I continued to wash the dishes, I wondered what he would do to me when he got back home later, and when the stranger wasn't there to save me again.

I shook my head, trying to erase the image of Father's chilling smirk. I needed a distraction.

"11:47pm... I better finish the summer reading assignment," I said aloud as I headed to my room.

I drew in a shaky breath from what just happened, but I wouldn't let myself worry about it for now.

I took out my book, notes, and laptop. But I couldn't focus.

All I could do for the rest of the weekend was think of the stranger with the blue shoes.