Agony

“Monsters don’t sleep under your bed they scream inside your head”

Delights was a small Italian café only 10 minutes from the high school. When you walked into Delights you were greeted with warmth, welcoming smiles and the delicious smells of coffee and baked delicious. The café was filled with an array of tables, chairs and colourful cushions, with a fireplace emitting warmth and comfort amongst the customers and workers

Aspen's uniform was simple and yet beautifully delicate, it consisted of dark denim jeans which she had bought two years ago when she had started to work at the café, and a pale yellow shirt which had her name carefully embroidered just above her heart.

That day Aspen had started work at half past three, and had now spent what felt like an eternity taking orders from impatient business men and bringing hot drinks and delicate pastries to exhausted mothers and their children.

Finally after a long seven years, with only a short break to pull out a soggy sandwich from the bottom of her school bag, Aspen was finally able to take off her stained apron and head home.

Aspen grimaced as she pulled open the door to delights as a great gust of wind slammed against her making her take a step back due to its force. Pulling her borrowed jumper closer around her and burying her cold hands deep inside the pockets of her jeans, she began to walk through the quiet streets.

After practically running the short distance between the café and 22 Edgar Street, the pale and shivering girl heaved open the front door and slammed it shut behind her, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

Mr Thomas was nowhere to be seen, and Aspen sighed sadly, knowing he would be drowning himself in several pints of beer at the local pub. Whenever her father returned home drunk, his shoulder length hair pulled into a messy ponytail, his face covered in sweat and his shirt would carry a familiar stench of beer and vomit. After a few long moments of shouted curses and loud crashes the alcohol swimming in his blood would pull him suddenly into unconsciousness.

Aspen hurried quickly along the hallway to her bedroom, pulling her books out of her bag as she went, hoping to get her homework done before the clock tricked midnight. After reading yet another question, asking Aspen yet again how racism is portrayed in How to Kill a Mockingbird. She heard a loud crash and her father curse loudly. For a few minutes, Aspen lifted her head and strained her ears, listening out for another crash. But none came. Deciding the alcohol had finally consumed him and he had fell into unconsciousness onto the couch where she would find him the next morning.

But she was wrong.

Moments later, Aspen heard angry stomps from the hallway. Then her bedroom door was slammed open, nearly ripped off its hinges. Mr Thomas stood in the dimly lit doorway, his back arched slightly and his eyes glinting dangerously. L

Aspen could almost see the little monsters in his head rattling the bars of their prisons, screaming to be released. Wanting to unleash pain onto the closest presence. The alcohol raging in his blood put Mr Thomas off balance as he stumbled towards his daughter.

"Lily?" her father slurred, the edges of his lips curved upwards into a bizarre grin.

"No, Dad, it's me" Aspen said gently, standing "Mum's gone," she whispered, touching his arm lightly

For a moment, Mr Thomas stood silently, then he threw back his head and roared, a wild and untamed roar. Suddenly, fear crept into Aspen as she saw that the monsters in her father's head had escaped and stood at the forefront of his mind, laughing manically; showing their sharp, blood stained teeth.

Before Aspen could even retreat back one small step, she was slammed against the wall with her father's huge hand clammed around her throat.  Mr Thomas moved closer, until she could feel his breathe against her cheeks.

"She. Is. Not. Gone" he snarled, spitting saliva on Aspen's tearstained cheeks.

Abruptly the hand clammed around Aspen's slender throat was gone, and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. But her father didn't walk away and let her drown in her own tears, he stayed standing in front of her, enveloping her in his colossal shadow.

Mr Thomas bent down beside his sobbing daughter and ran his sticky fingers through her blonde hair.

"You have Lily's hair"

He touched her chin and pulled it so she was facing him, drinking in her vivid green eyes, button nose and pale pink lips.

"You have her lips, her nose, her lips" he whispered softly, running his fingers down her cheeks until the skimmed over her trembling lips.

"But I'm not Dadda" Aspen whispered, fear still raw in her voice "Mummy's gone. She is dead."

Mr Thomas' eyes darkened and his grip on Aspen's chin until she thought her teeth would be torn from her gums. Then just as quickly as his grip had hardened, it was gone and instead whipping against Aspen's cheek.

"Liar" Mr Thomas spat, standing and walking towards the open door.

When Aspen could no longer see her father's retreating back, she began to sob silently, her quivering hand resting gingerly against her stinging cheek. That night Aspen Thomas fell into a restless slumber, her cheek still stinging and etched with tears and her jaw and neck throbbing agonisingly.