I have always wanted to go to the disco. There’s something about flashing lights and deafening music that makes me feel like the world isn’t so bad, people aren’t the reckless beings that they show themselves to be. And my brother isn’t the demon that lurks in the shadows waiting for me to sleep at night, arriving at midnight with his sour breath and clammy hands, his eyes balls of white with no expression or recognition of who I am.
It’s my duty to lie still and silent. Not a word nor a shudder, or he marks me with his might, red bruises that eventually turn purple, my dead mother’s favorite color. The sadness and pain last till he doesn’t leave before the crack of dawn, afraid that his wife might find out about his wrongdoings.
But I made a resolve this morning that it would have to end. No more terror or torture. I was a girl with guts and there weren’t many like me. So I would have to stand up for a greater cause. I would have to prove that evil never stands a chance in the face of solid determination.
He comes at exactly twelve, his steps drag against the floor, his breathing is erratic and heavy. Instead of waiting in bed, I stand at an open window, the cold breeze entangles itself in my hair. My name sounds repulsive on his lips. I will wipe them clean before I end this.
I sense him reaching for my shoulder. The bottle of acid trembles in my gloved hands, but I turn and splash his face liberally. I gag at the smell of burning skin, his screams are high-pitched and cowardly. I turn on some music and crank it to full volume. There are flashing lights in the distance. Two police cars are almost here. I called them ten minutes ago.
My hips sway to the music. My eyes take in the flashing colors. This is the nearest I will ever get to a disco.
I then jump out the window.