Cruel Confrontations
Skylar's POV
He's here. The sight of him sends a chill down my spine, a cruel twist of fate bringing him back into my life. As the reality settled, my mind switched to quick protection mode. I attempted to close the door, a feeble attempt to shield myself from the storm that had just walked in, but it was too little, too late. The door gave way to his force, and he stepped in, sealing my fate within the confines of the room.
With every step he took toward me, I instinctively moved away, creating an involuntary dance of evasion. The involuntary waltz continued until, almost unknowingly, I found myself in front of the hall bathroom door.
"Who told you you could leave?" he asked vehemently.
He spoke, his voice a storm on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury. Before he could utter another word, I seized the opportunity, opened the door, and darted into the bathroom, shutting it hastily in his face.
"Skylar! Open the door before I break it down!" His voice echoed through the closed barrier.
"No!" I shouted back, a defiant response escaping before I could restrain it. A mental slap echoed; now, he would be even more incensed that I had dared to talk back.
"I see time apart has caused you to forget your place, but all is well. In due time, you'll remember where you stand," he declared, an unsettling calmness replacing the storm.
Oh, no. Anger, I could handle, but this calmness was a precursor to something far more dangerous.
"Skylar, open the door," he repeated, the calm in his voice sending shivers down my spine.
I stole a final glance in the mirror, red and puffy eyes reflecting the torment within. Tears streamed down my face, and my entire figure trembled. A bitter chuckle escaped my lips; fate seemed determined to thrust the shittier end of the stick my way. My gaze dropped to my stomach, and I placed a protective hand over it, whispering to my unborn child.
"I am so sorry. You probably have the worst mother in the world, but I won't let that mean man hurt you. Mommy will take all the hits elsewhere and protect you," I vowed.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, preparing for what awaited beyond the bathroom door. The eerie silence enveloped me.
"C-Cain," I stammered, a feeble hope that he might be gone shattered as I saw him standing at the end of the hall.
"So, the coward finally decides to show herself?" he sneered, and I knew better than to respond.
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance in seconds. Panic surged within me.
"I-." I began, but fear silenced me. He wasted no time.
"Who told you that you could leave?" he demanded, awaiting an answer I couldn't give.
"Who told you that you could leave?" he shouted, the volume escalating.
"I'm sorry," was my cowardly response.
"Who told you that you could leave?" he thundered once more.
"No one." I whimpered.
The moment those words left my lips, his palm connected with my right cheek. Then my left. The force of the blows sent me to the ground, and the onslaught continued—hits and kicks, a symphony of pain. Desperation consumed me as I tried to shield my stomach from the onslaught. The merciless assault persisted until I succumbed to the pain, slipping into unconsciousness, a respite from the torment.