LET THE WORLD BURN, Ellie thought as she received, yet, another punch in the gut. This time, the excruciating pain had her body doubled over. Who would have thought this is the life she would be introduced to when she got adopted ten years ago?
She was just an innocent seven-year-old desperate for a family's affection. But the Brock family's only affection that Ellie received was a facade they showed outside. Behind locked doors, her nightmares were unleashed.
"Teach the slut a lesson, Brad!" Samantha Brock cheered on her son from where she sat on the worn-out leather sofa. One leg propped up, a cigarette sandwiched between her red lips, she growled, "You dared to report me to your school, huh? You ungrateful skunk!"
"Worry not, mother, I will make sure today she takes her last breath." Brad threatened, his frosty blue eyes piercing a hole in Ellie's face. His lips curved into a devilish smirk. "Take a deep breath and we will get back to business, little Ellie."
'Little Ellie' made Ellie happy that her older step-brother gave her a loving nickname, but after exposing her to years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, the mere sound of that name makes her insides coil with disgust.
"I didn't say anything." Ellie finally found her tongue, speaking as she weakly rose up. "I swear, Miss Monica was asking me all sorts of questions, but I said nothing." Her small voice quivered, tears streaming down her swollen cheeks - her step mom's fingers imprinted across her face.
Samantha scoffed, blowing a smoke in front of her like a screen. "You must think since you are going to be eighteen tonight, you can do as you please? Right..." That deafening pause before she calls Ellie's name is a clear indication of an impending disaster. "Huh, Ellie?"
"Please, please, mother." Ellie wept, rubbing her palms together in vigorous movements "I would never do such a thing. You know I could never do it."
"Lies!" Brad barked, moving his bulk towards Ellie. He then yanked her head backward by the hair. "How dare you lie to my mother!?" His smell - alcohol breath and odor coming from the tuft of hair under his arms - greeted her nose. She wouldn't dare squeeze her face or pinch her nose; that would result to instant death.
Brad had raised his hand, anticipating a slap, when Samantha yelled, "Don't hit her on the face!" Prompting her excuse of a son to stop in action. "But, why??" The big baby complained and faced his mother. "You slapped her too."
"Well, that was because I was so angry and had forgotten people from the orphanage are coming over for dinner tonight." Her tone transitioned smoothly from angry to ambitious, "Why do you think I got another child in the first place? Her mother..." She said, nodding in Ellie's direction "Left her a hefty fortune, I hear. From what that man was saying, it was large enough to afford this bitch a house, car, and still have enough to feed herself for a year without working jobs. That's a couple of thousand dollars we are talking about. So if those idiots notice signs of abuse, they might never hand the treasures to Ellie. They might even take her away from us!" Her hooded blue eyes echoed the fear in her voice. "And we can't have that now, can we, son? So let the girl be for now. It's already five so they will be here in an hour or so. And I need to prepare dinner. Got to work that turkey up so good so they wouldn't suspect a thing!"
"As you wish, ma." Brad yielded, pushing Ellie violently to the floor. She landed hard on her waist, making a stifled wincing sound before slowly getting back to her feet.
"Wear that dress I got you, girl," Samantha commanded. "Also, put some makeup."
"Yes, mom." Ellie nodded, silently heaving a sigh of relief as she headed for the stairs.
"Wait!" Samantha called after her. She froze, heart bouncing in her chest as she swiveled slowly around, "Yes?" She asked, using her tiny compliant voice.
Unimpressed, Samantha scornfully waved her hand and gestured at Ellie's entire body with palpable disgust "Cover everything up, you look a mess."
Thanks to who? Ellie thought, but couldn't quite muster the courage to express so. Submissively giving her a nod, Ellie said, "Yes, mother." And then started for the stairs.
Clenching her teeth from the pain that made itself known with every step she took, her hand gripping the wooden banister like it was her life, she managed to get to her bedroom. Even though she's spent the last ten years sleeping here, Ellie never really felt like it was fully hers. Mostly because Brad could walk in whenever he pleased, and did whatever he'd wanted to her. She hates this bedroom with every fiber of her being, but, what can she do?
After the brief shower that felt more painful than the punches itself, Ellie, now stares at her reflection in the mirror - swollen cheek, puffed brown eyes, cracked lips, and her brown hair dry like her step-mother's Christmas turkey. Her eyes leered slowly over her unrecognizable reflection, and every part of her body begging for liberation.
Cannot stall any longer. She pulled the mirror drawer, bringing out some aged cosmetics Samantha bought her a few years back when the abuse became severe. She gently patted the foundation on her scars, doing a second layer before going over with concealer, blush, and then setting powder. She combed her hair and wore it loose to hide the scratch marks on the back of her neck. Still wincing as she moved, Ellie pulled out the white satin dress Samantha gave her this morning, from her wardrobe. She slipped into the gown, looking like an excuse of a human. The design is okay, satin feels good for a change: the silver and gold lace added to the upper layer of the dress made the color pop, and she did like the mirror bead work embedded on the body, but, despite all of that, the dress doesn't fit her. For someone with broad shoulders and a smaller frame, round neck dresses make her look anything but stupid. Perhaps, that is what Samantha was going for, when she got her the dress.
Ellie was done applying the glossy pink lipstick from last year's Christmas gift, and was turning to leave when a voice spoke from the mirror; it was not the first time she'd had these hallucinations so she wasn't really surprised, just dejected by the judgments her reflection will lay on her.
"You look good, if stupid is what you are going for. Absolutely stunning," Her reflection judged sardonically "For how long, though, will you keep being the fool? Are you blind to reality? These people will kill you the moment they get their hands on your money."
"Well, what exactly am I to do then?" Ellie said, almost yelling as she turned around towards the mirror. "I have nowhere to go."
Her cocky reflection burst into a loud, hysterical laughter. "In a world so vast, you have nowhere to go?" The reflection scoffed "You must be used to functioning on a sore body, so I wouldn't pity you, but remember, if that idiot Brad has two hands and two legs, so do you! Remember, Ellie." And then the reflection dissolved. Now all she was staring at was her disoriented face screaming 'Barbie wannabe'. With a sigh, she shook her head, "The last thing I want to deal with is this"
"ELLIE? GIRL?" Samantha yelled her name from downstairs. Ellie knew not to have her yell a second time, so she hurriedly strode to the first floor despite the pain she felt taking every step. Samantha had changed into a homey, cute suburban mom floral dress. "Ah, there you are. Here you go..." She suddenly started towards Ellie, the poor girl flinching impulsively away from her. Only after her reaction did she notice the simple necklace Samantha was holding up.
Her face squeezing into a frown, Samantha sneered, "If someone else was here besides us, what do you think they'd say at your reaction, eh? You want them to think that I am a bad mom? Eh, Ellie?"
YOU ARE A BAD MOM. The thought blared in Ellie's head but she wouldn't dare to entertain it. "No... mother." Ellie reassured, taking a nervous step forward to close the distance between them, "You are a good mom."
"Exactly!" Samantha smiled from ear-to-ear, leaning over to put the necklace around Ellie's neck. "All you have to do is smile and nod, and, don't talk unless you really have to..." She stepped back, smiling like a real proud mother as she perused her, "Understand, baby doll?" Ellie nodded, smiling back.
Satisfied, Samantha headed for the stairs, "Take care of the turkey, and don't let it get burnt."
"Okay mother." Ellie answered.
Without the mother and son around, Ellie could feel at peace; she'd have time to think, finally. Watching the turkey in the oven, a thought forced its way into her head, she'd try to shake it off like she did every time it came but this time around, it refused to leave. It kept nudging her till she had no choice but to entertain it, and accommodate it in her already occupied head-space.
As if possessed, Ellie moved quickly, flipping on the stove switches, taking the lighter from the drawer above her, and gripping it tightly in her hand. It was faint at the beginning, but in a few minutes, the smell of gas hung heavily in the air. Now that everything was set, what next? She thought, playing with the lighter in her hand, What next? What next Ellie?? Her trance was cut short when the front door flew open, heavy footsteps stomping across the floor.
"What is that smell?" Brad spoke from the living room, his steps getting closer. He then poked his head into the kitchen, saw Ellie, and a wicked grin appeared on his round, red face. "Looking lovely little Ellie." His eyes reflected stormy seas with lust for her body as he majestically sailed into the kitchen, suddenly stopping in his tracks as his nose once again caught the unpleasant smell. "Something smells awful in here." He was sniffing, looking around the small kitchen, sniffing like a dog. Then he stopped. "Shit smells like gas. Who let it on?"
Nervously, Ellie shook her head but her body language - sweat trickling down her face, heart beat racing, eyes looking anywhere but at him - sold her out.
His eyes narrowed on the lighter. "You sneaky little fuck!"
At the blink of an eye, Brad had grabbed Ellie by the throat and rammed her into the counter. "You must be out of your mind if you are thinking of arson, you dumb fuck!" Despite his bulk, oversized body for a nineteen-year-old, Brad was strong and sharp in the most odd of times.
Ellie was choking, her eyes bulging out as Brad showed no sign of stopping. Gasping for air, her hand moved along the counter, searching for something, anything - and then she felt a pan. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, yelling as she smashed the steel into Brad's face, the unexpected action sending him crashing onto the floor with a loud bang and a painful groan.
His release left Ellie coughing and wheezing like an asthmatic patient. When she finally got around, Brad was also trying to get back up, a line of blood trailing out of his ear where she had hit him.
Ellie thought of running but Brad's big frame was occupying more than half the kitchen space. Even if she tried, she could not weasel her way out without getting caught.
Desperately, she skirted the kitchen for something to protect herself, and when her eyes took stock of the shiny, glistening knife that Samantha used to butcher the turkey, something in Ellie's brain flipped. She took hold of the knife, circling around just as Brad launched himself at her.
Putting her gamble on fate, she closed her eyes and thrust her hands forward with the knife in her tight grip.
Silence. Squelching sound. Then silence.
And then gurgling, choking. She sharply opened her eyes, immediately letting go of the steel that was now sticking out of Brad's throat. A line of tears flowed out of his widened eye, his legs stumbling backward. His hands moved as if he was trying to pull the knife out, but with the amount of blood pumping out and drenching his white shirt, his limbs went numb instantly, and he dropped to his knees.
Horrified, Ellie stared, unable to believe she had killed someone. His bulk slouched on the floor, a pool of blood forming under his body as he took his last breaths.
Samantha must have heard the noise and came running down, only to stumble upon her dying son. Her eyes went wide, a screeching scream coming out of her as she rushed to his body and slid down to where he lay lifeless.
"Open your eyes, my boy. My golden boy." She trembled, slapping his cheeks with both hands, stuttering, tears streaming profusely out of her eyes. "Come on, my golden boy." She shook his corpse a couple of times, but when Brad made no sign of responding, Samantha wailed like a siren as Ellie watched in shock. She cried and screamed till her throat felt dry.
Only then did she stop, sniffed, and wiped the black tears off her cheeks, smudging her entire face. She finally looked up, a murderous glare forming on her face. "You fucking jinx..." She growled at Ellie. "You killed my boy. YOU KILLED MY BOY!." She barked, blood splashing across her cheeks as she yanked the knife from her son's throat with a disgusting, squelching sound. Then, she staggered to her feet. "I will kill you and then kill myself."
Samantha had never been more serious. Ellie could see that in her cold, unemotional eyes. She could see in Samantha's glare that raw, and powerful crave for her blood, and her only option was to fight back.
And after witnessing Brad's death, Ellie wasn't as nervous. Terrified. But no longer nervous. The lighter still in her hand, Ellie grabbed a pot as Samantha charged at her with the knife raised.
Immediately Samantha got close, she went for the stab, but Ellie used the pot to shield her chest. Samantha was no where near Brad's strength but couldn't be called weak either. After struggling for a minute, Ellie managed to push her off.
Samantha slipped because of the blood that flowed beneath her, was practically swept off her feet, and landed on her back with a loud 'cracking' noise, accompanied by a blare of painful wail.
"You fucking witch," Samantha snapped. She tried getting up but instantly dropped back with another cry. "I will kill you!"
"Not if I kill you first," Ellie spoke, the very first time she'd ever talked back to Samantha. "And I will make sure you both ROT IN HELL!!!" She yelled, quivering, sobbing "And then I will kill myself."
Taking one last glance at both mother and dead son, Ellie waddled clumsily out of the kitchen while Samantha kept yelling after her, "COME BACK! I WILL KILL YOU!! YOU MURDERER!! COME BACK!!!"
But her words were muffled under Ellie's frantic thoughts. She was dragging herself through the living room, and when her hand finally held the front doorknob, another wave of tears broke out of her overflowing eyes.
She opened the door, stepping into the murky air, but it was better than inside the house. There was a relief that came with each step she took down the creaky front porch stairs, and on the last step, she turned to look at her prison one last time.
Having no regrets, Ellie flicked on the golden lighter, the blue-red flame reflecting in her brown orbs before she threw it through the door.
Silence... as it slowly spiraled into the living room, and then BOOM!
The house exploded.
Ellie was sent flying across onto the front lawn of the house across the street. As if the Lord was applauding her courage, rain started spattering from above in small drops, and then came a massive shower.
Ellie finally sat up, numb to the stinging pain from her bleeding head. She doesn't remember the last time her lips curved but seeing the burning house brought a slow smile across her face.
Weakly, she got back to her feet, leaving the burning house behind her as she stumbled across the street, getting weaker with every step she took.
Surprisingly, she reached the bridge where she could gladly jump and say goodbye to this evil world, but, the Lord had other plans for her.
She was crossing to the other side completely unaware of the approaching vehicle until its bright headlights blared in her face. Instantly, she felt her head start to spiral, her world turning upside down. The wave of exhaustion and relief rose within her like a high tide, overwhelming her, and then she was falling. Falling, falling. And then she crashed, her back slamming against the ground.
Now laying in her pool of blood, Ellie could finally admire the yellow-orange sky dancing like the northern lights above her.
If this was how she dies, it wouldn't be such a bad end, she thought. And at least... she let the world burn, finally.
Holding on to that thought with a weak, bitter smile, Ellie bit the dust, allowing her consciousness to slip into obsidian. Not the darkness that years of constant abuse had plunged her into. This darkness was different, it was permanent, and puts her soul at ease. It would be the liberation she'd always imagined; where she could rest forever, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. She would just be static like an NPC, and let the world fade away into ashes.
This was it - her death.