Chenai: Part 1

Makaitah Rogue

I held my breath trying to listen if there was anyone else breathing in the room. Dang, the silence was unnerving. I could hear my pulse loud in my ear; my heart beat a rhythmic rendition of its own, manifesting a new wave of fear. I cried at the self-inflicted circumstance, the abyss of stupidity and careless miscalculation.

My father was a burly man who swore more than a cupful of a sailor’s semantics. Famous for his unexpected backhand slaps that every time I was near him I would involuntarily flinch. He reigned with terror in our home, mercilessly beat us all leaving us with nothing to salvage but self-pity and burning hatred for him. I can hardly remember a day when he was sober or said a kind word to any of us. There was no getting used to his abuse, everyday felt new and raw. The habitual abuse…

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