Love, Love, Love.

The house stood majestically among others, its size mixed with its grandeur made other houses look mediocre in comparison; that is, if any comparison could be made. Inside the house was far more magnificent, stone pillars led to different hallways, every hallway looked like it was going to lead to heaven or at least to room worthy of gods. At this moment though none of that could be seen, the house was completely engulfed by the darkness which filled the night sky; the moon floated lonely as the stars were absent.

I laid on my bed consumed by a swarm of thoughts, sleep had continuously alluded me. The room was dark and lonely; with the tunes of the cricket providing me companionship. My brother laid in a bed next to mine and was completely taken away by sleep. The snores emitted from him mixed with the sounds from the crickets created a distorted sound; my ears pleaded with me to leave the room, and so I did. I walked down the hallway straight into the kitchen with my hands on the wall; I was never one to be afraid of the dark but something about the night terrified me.

I poured myself a glass of water, satisfying my thirst. I began my journey back to my room when the noises from my parents room grabbed my attention. I tried to force myself to ignore it and go to my room, but something about the sounds confused me. I recognised the loud voice, it belonged to my father, but the rage and anger filled in it startled me. My father was a calm man, he seemed allergic to anger or violence. I walked closer to the room and with each step the voices got louder and more terrifying.

I open the door and saw my father pouncing on my mother like she was prey. Every strike he landed on her led to tears in my eyes, each beating destroyed my trust in him. He yelled at her and dragged across the room like a worthless rag. I was completely shocked by his behaviour and my whole body was filled up with anger, sadness and disappointment, I wanted to move but my body willed against it, instead I stood there motionless as my father continued to beat my mother. His eyes pierced down at her condescendingly with every strike; when he was done he left her lying on the floor with her eyes red and swollen. My beautiful mother had been made unrecognisable by the man who had sworn to love her for the rest of his life, her lush light skin had been battered into scarlet red with blood dripping down from her nose. That man inside the room was not my father and would never be, not again.

I ran inside the room and pulled my mother with all the strength my hands could yield, the man saw me and grabbed me by the neck and flung me out of the room. My mother followed. I supported her into the bathroom and set the water running; I quickly ran into my room grab a small cloth. I soaked the cloth in the water and cleaned my mother’s face, trying to make it look like its old self and said, “I heard love was a beautiful thing.” “Its a far thinner line between what makes us feel love and what makes us feel pain, and I for one have crossed the line far too many times to tell the difference.” She responded weakly as tears rolled down her cheeks, “Love is a complicated thing.” She finished. “No mother, love is simple, love is beautiful, love is euphoric, love means cherishing the thing you care about. Anything that does not abide with that isn’t love, but just a cheap replica.” I replied as she laid on me and I sang to her till we both fell asleep and feeling dejected for we knew that when morning came the house would assert its majesty, with all its flaws simply buried within.