Psalm 34:18
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
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I don't remember Mom.
She left before… apparently, she didn't want me to exist.
But they still forced her to have me.
And then she ran away.
My grandfather and grandmother raised me.
They told me that God never abandons His children who believe in Him.
Especially little ones: He sends angels to watch over them.
I felt so happy…
I hugged them tightly, believing their words.
But over time, they passed away,
and my father took charge of me.
At first, everything was good and beautiful.
He spoke to me kindly, smiled at me.
He said I was his princess.
He bought me blue dresses, bows, and ribbons,
and kept repeating that he loved his little girl.
But at night… he changed.
His voice, his gaze, his scent.
Everything was different.
Sometimes he hit me.
And I didn't understand…
There was a good dad…
and another being hidden inside him.
I believed that if I prayed more,
the good dad would come back.
If I were obedient, quiet, clean…
he would stay with me.
One day he let me bring a little puppy.
I loved him more than anything.
I named him Nun.
He was small, soft, warm.
For the first time, the house didn't feel empty.
I was so happy.
But one night… Dad did something I didn't understand.
It hurt me.
And even though I didn't want to believe it,
he did it again.
And again.
Each time he did it, he whispered Mom's name.
—Mom… Mom… Mom…
And then I understood.
—Did you leave so I could take your place, Mom?
Because Dad wants me to take it.
I don't want this, Mom.
I don't want it.
No, Mom… no…
I had to wash myself so you wouldn't be mad that I was dirty,
and Nun so you would accept me,
maybe one day you'd come back,
seeing that I'm a good girl.
There were noises, and I woke Dad.
Dad approached the gate.
A being was there.
It was in the shadows.
Its shape was strange.
It watched silently,
while Dad advanced toward it.
I couldn't speak or scream.
Maybe God had heard my prayers?
Maybe that being would make him change?
Would the good father return?
Dad reached it.
Then it opened its mouth.
A huge, impossible mouth.
And it tore my father apart.
A wet, heavy sound.
His body fell to the ground.
A warm liquid ran down my legs.
I wet myself.
I didn't understand why.
But I couldn't look away.
I thought… maybe it was opening him to release the good dad.
It wasn't.
Dad lay on the floor.
And my tears fell, one after another.
It looked at me.
And it smiled.
Then it left.
Even in the darkness, I could see its massive body,
and its wings… so huge.
Like a white moth.
I wanted to see how Dad was.
Maybe it was just my imagination.
My grandparents always told me that:
that my mind dreamed when I was afraid.
My legs wouldn't respond.
They didn't want to move.
But I wanted to.
Each step hurt.
With Nun in my arms,
I approached.
I could only see half of Dad.
The other part was gone.
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Copyright — Caleb Y.Y