Savior?

The food kept being served, the table was never left empty. Drinks kept being poured into half-empty glasses. Men who sat around have already forgotten what it was they were drinking. I watched them from afar trying to stop myself from trembling. My father was calmer when I left him but the man at the table was younger, and even at the age of twenty-one, I was still afraid to face him. It wasn’t a luxury I could afford so even if I had no control over my breathing, I walked forward.

It was easy to get him away. He was very aware of the power he had, and he used it to help people as much as he used it to hurt them. The moment I told him I needed to talk to him and there was a little kid in danger, he got up. A private booth was quickly set up for us to converse privately. Even after knowing him for years, I was still shocked by his influence.

“Awful things are happening around this world,” I said despite my trembling voice. I didn't need introductions, and he didn’t mind either.

“And unfortunately, a little kid is learning that sooner than he should. His parents have left him at his grandparents’ house with his brother and they have no idea of the torture he endures there. I wanted to go and stop it at first or at least talk to the kid. Tell him to ask for help. But I know him very well. He will never talk to anybody about what is happening to him and even if I stop it once, there is a chance it will happen again. At a different home by different people. I understand his parents could’ve never seen it happen. There is no other way than to lock him in a room by himself to make sure it won’t happen again. But that would be fighting fire by fire and when it comes to a kid’s mental health, it would only harm him more.”

“Then what can we do?” He asked.

“He needs peace. He’s the youngest of his family but with his father always going out for pleasure and his mother tired from work or dealing with her husband, the kid takes responsibility for the adults. He cleans the house, cooks for himself; listens to her mother’s problems even if he doesn’t fully understand them and braces himself for the fight that will surely happen when his father comes home. His father is a powerful man but it’s not strength what the kid needs. “

He was lost in deep thought. It was weird seeing his full hair, no greys whatsoever. He was in his twenties; I knew that for a fact, he almost looked like a different man. But there were those familiar shallow wrinkles around his eyes and the confident look in his hazel eyes. This man was my father. The same man I despised but never hated. The man who could’ve protected me but was too blind to do so. The man who gave me bruises. The man who loved me more than he ever loved anyone. He was everything I wished to become and everything I tried not to be.

I told him the truth when he asked me who the kid was. I left shortly after that, wondering if I went there to save myself or get my revenge on him.