The crunch of snow underfoot was all Elena could hear as she trudged home from school. The streets were still and bitterly cold, streetlights casting long, lonely shadows across the icy sidewalks. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, her breath fogging in front of her face, blurring the hard line of her mouth. Home wasn’t warm. It wasn’t a place she looked forward to being.
When she opened the door to their cramped apartment, the smell of stale beer greeted her, along with her father’s voice, rough and slurred.
“Elena!” he barked. “Get me a beer.”
She shut the door behind her, snowflakes melting into her hair as she hung up her jacket. She didn’t answer, just walked to the small, humming fridge and pulled out a can. Handing it to him, she waited, expressionless, as he opened it and took a long, slow drink. She already knew what would come next.
“You’re just like your mother, you know,” he sneered, barely looking at her. “Weak. Useless. Can’t do a damn thing right.”
The words didn’t sting anymore. They’d worn her down years ago, chipped away at her until she was hollow inside. She looked down at her shoes, cold seeping through the thin soles, and tried to remember the last time she’d felt something other than this numb, heavy emptiness.
Her older brother was slouched on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, ignoring her as usual. He never intervened, never once stood up for her. She’d stopped hoping he might years ago. He was just like their dad in so many ways—silent and detached, floating through their life as though neither of them belonged to it.
“Disappointment, that’s what you are,” her father continued, his voice a cruel whisper as he leaned closer. “Nothing but a burden on me.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. She had heard it all before. Every insult had left a scar, but the pain had faded long ago, leaving only the thick, scarred tissue of her soul. Tonight, though, something twisted deep inside her. The weight of it was too much, pressing down on her chest like cold iron.
“What?” she said, barely more than a whisper.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”
“I said, *what*?” She raised her voice, the strain cracking it at the edges. “Is that all you’re ever going to say to me? I’m a disappointment? I’m weak? Is that all you know how to say?”
Her father’s face twisted in fury, his hand clenching the can so tightly it crumpled in his fist. Her brother shifted on the couch, but didn’t look over, didn’t speak.
“Watch your mouth,” her father growled. “You think you’re better than me, huh? You think you’re something special?”
“No,” she spat back, her voice raw and shaking, and yet, somehow, it felt freeing. “No, I don’t. I know exactly what I am, thanks to you. I’m worthless, right? I’m a burden. Well, then, maybe I should just disappear.”
The words came out harsher, sharper than she’d meant. But the truth of them hit her like a punch. Maybe if she was gone, he would finally be at peace, and she—she wouldn’t have to feel this hollow ache anymore. She wouldn’t have to look at herself and feel this constant shame, like she was to blame for his anger, his rage.
Her father snorted, dismissive. “Go on, then,” he muttered, turning back to his drink. “You’re nothing to me anyway.”
The room felt smaller, colder than ever. Her brother’s silence cut through her like glass. She needed air. She needed to get out, now.
Without another word, she ran for the door, grabbing her coat on the way out. Her father didn’t stop her; her brother didn’t even look up. The door slammed behind her, and the sound echoed in the stillness of the building. Outside, snow was falling gently, blanketing everything in cold, soft silence. She ran, not caring where she was going, her breath puffing in quick, shallow bursts.
Her feet carried her down the quiet streets, past the dim, empty shops, until she reached the train tracks just beyond town. They lay like twin ribbons stretching into the dark, blanketed in snow, a stark, empty path leading to nowhere.
The air was freezing, biting into her cheeks and nose, but she didn’t care. Standing there, staring down those dark tracks, she felt the weight of everything pressing down on her, crushing her. She thought about how easy it would be to just step forward, let the tracks carry her away from everything. From her father’s words, from her brother’s silence, from the cold, empty space inside her.
A gust of wind blew, swirling snow around her feet, wrapping her in its icy embrace. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears finally start to fall, warming her cheeks before the wind stole that warmth away.
But then, in the cold quiet, she heard the faintest whisper of something else. The sound of her own voice, from a time long ago, a time she could barely remember. A laugh, soft and warm. She opened her eyes and took a slow, steady breath, feeling the cold bite of air fill her lungs.
She didn’t know if she could go back. She didn’t know if she could keep facing the same bitter, empty home. But standing there, she knew one thing—she wasn’t going to let him win. Not like this.
She took one last look down the tracks, then turned around and saw her brother and father behind her with worried expressions on their faces. For the first time it felt like they would truly care about her.
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