13. threshold of renewal

Third Person's PoV

Sky's life was a far cry from the dreams of her childhood. Her mother, a beacon of resilience, often said that life itself was a gift to be cherished. Yet, the reality of their existence was marred by abuse—a domestic turmoil that left both mother and daughter with scars, both physical and emotional. Panic attacks and nightmares were frequent visitors in Sky's world, serving as harrowing reminders of their suffering.

Her father, an American, had once shared the joy of Hollywood films with her, while her Asian mother introduced her to the cinematic wonders of Asia. Those days, however, were mere echoes of a happier past, long before their home became a battleground. Now, as Sky navigated through life, the permanence of change weighed heavily on her. Loneliness gnawed at her heart, and guilt over her mother's plight haunted her since the day she fled their shared prison.

In the years that followed, Sky lived in the shadows, ever fearful that her father would shatter the fragile peace she had found. It was in this seclusion that she encountered Kian—a man whose kindness and understanding pierced through the veil of her solitude. His presence was a soothing balm to her frayed nerves, a gentle reassurance that she was seen, and that she mattered. With Kian, Sky dared to hope for a future where the nightmares of her past could no longer reach her.

A week had passed since Sky last saw Kian, and with each day, her mind became a battleground of overthinking and panic. His promise to return with her medication was unfulfilled, leaving her to weather a cold and the ensuing loneliness on her own. Clade, a fleeting presence, provided temporary relief, but his own emergencies pulled him away, reinforcing the solitude that enveloped her.

She had sought refuge in Kian's home, allowing herself time to recover from her illness. Yet, as the days slipped by, her sustenance became an afterthought, lost amidst the turmoil of her thoughts. Doubt crept in, whispering that perhaps Kian's absence was a silent message, a reflection of her perceived childishness and lack of employment.

With a heavy sigh, the reality of her situation settled upon her shoulders. Work was not a part of her life, and the question of survival loomed large. Alone in her modest apartment, she found solace in the company of Bren, her loyal companion.

"Bren, w-where will I find work?" she asked, her voice breaking with the weight of uncertainty. "The bills won't pay themselves, and my s-stomach aches with more than just hunger." Her plea hung in the air, a testament to the vulnerability and strength that coexisted within her.

Tears streamed down Sky's cheeks, her heart ached as if pierced by a thousand needles, and her stomach churned in agony. In those moments, she yearned for the comforting touch of her mother, whose soothing massages always eased her menstrual cramps.

For five long minutes, Sky wept, her cries for her mother echoing through the empty room. She can still remember for the past few days that Clade, with his eyes filled with pity and concern, offered no solace. Sky recoiled from that look of pity; it was a silent scream that echoed her deepest fears. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly repulsive. Her unkempt appearance, with hair splayed in wild disarray and clad in an oversized shirt, seemed to confirm her worst fears—perhaps it was the reason Kian had left.

Isolated and disconnected, Sky had no phone. Her father had deemed her unworthy of communication, branding her a pathetic and useless creature.

"You will stay confined to your room today, Sky!" her father bellowed, his voice thundering from the doorway. His smile was cruel, a twisted expression that once instilled fear in her heart. "Your presence is not required downstairs. You've given me nothing to be proud of. You're as worthless as your mother!"

Sky's protest was cut short by his harsh rebuke. "Silence! You will remain here until tomorrow, unless you learn your place in this house. I have no need for a daughter; I wanted a son! Daughters are weak," he declared with disdain.

With one final, contemptuous glance, he slammed the door shut and turned the key, locking her inside. Sky could hear his muffled shouts through the door, the words indistinct, but the message clear: he had no need for her, for in his eyes, she was weak and useless.

Sky's hands trembled uncontrollably on her lap, the memories of yesteryears haunting her like fresh wounds. She bit down on her lower lip, the metallic taste of blood a stark reminder of her pain.

"Mommy, a-are you okay?" she whispered into the silence, her voice barely a breath.

With eyes shut tight and fists clenched, Sky yearned for the sweet escape of sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, each thought, each memory, sapping her strength. She pleaded for a night free from the torment of nightmares, a respite from the cycle of sleeplessness and anxiety that had become her unwelcome routine over the past week.

Avoiding her reflection, Sky knew all too well the gaunt figure that would stare back at her. Sleep deprivation had etched deep circles under her eyes, and meals had become a forgotten luxury. Even before Kian's entrance into her life, eating once a day was her norm; the concept of three square meals a day was a distant, almost alien memory.

As minutes morphed into hours, the ache in her stomach grew. She lay in wait for slumber's gentle embrace, and after what felt like an eternity, it finally came. Clutching Bren close to her chest, she drifted off to the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows of her modest apartment, hoping for a night's reprieve in the arms of peaceful dreams.

Skyler awoke, her heart light with the absence of nightmares. She peered at the clock — an hour and a half had passed. A soft smile graced her lips.

Outside, the rain crescendoed, a symphony of droplets against her window. The curtains, however, veiled the downpour. With resolve, she rose to push them aside, only to be reminded sharply of her monthly ordeal, her period. Grimacing, she made her way to the sanctuary of her tiny bathroom to avoid staining her bed.

Freshly changed, she gently coaxed the curtains open and retreated to her bed, her gaze fixed on the rain's ballet. It was a balm to her soul, the rhythmic patter a soothing lullaby.

The afternoon loomed, yet the rain showed no sign of abating. Hunger gnawed at her, a stark contrast to the void of appetite within. Her kitchen bore no remedy, her cupboards as empty as her stomach.

At the stroke of one, a knock at the door halted Sky's breath. Frozen, a torrent of fears flooded her mind. Could it be her father, come to drag her back to a home that was anything but?

She vowed silence, a fortress against the past she yearned to forget. Yet, the thought of her mother, tender and kind, pierced her resolve. The longing for her mother's embrace warred with the dread of her father's wrath.

The knocking grew insistent, a relentless echo in the quiet room. Tears streamed down Sky's cheeks as the sound ceased, only to return with a familiar voice.

"Sky! Baby? It's me, Kian! Please, open the door!"

Hope sparked within her. Kian? Her heart raced as she leapt from the bed. Through the blur of tears, she hesitated, feeling vulnerable and small.

But Kian's voice, steady and warm, melted the icy walls around her heart. Despite the ache in her belly, she edged toward the door, her hand trembling on the knob.

"My baby, please. Open the door, I wanna see you."

With a deep breath, Sky banished her fears, turned the knob, and stepped into an embrace that promised safety and love.

Sky's eyes met Kian's, a mix of relief and trepidation swirling in their depths. Kian's gaze was tender, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Sky," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been a fool, a coward. I left you alone when you needed me the most, and for that, I am deeply sorry."

He stepped back, giving her space, yet his hands reached out, as if to bridge the gap his absence had created. "I've missed you every moment, every second. The silence without you was deafening, unbearable."

Sky watched, her heart pounding, as Kian knelt before her. "I want to be the one who stands by you, who fights your demons with you. Let me be your sanctuary, your home."

He took her hands in his, his touch gentle, coaxing her to feel the sincerity of his words. "Sky, will you give me the chance to make it right? Will you let me take you out on a date? Just one date, to start anew. To show you the love and devotion you deserve."

Kian's eyes searched hers, waiting, hoping for a sign of forgiveness, a glimmer of the love they once shared. Sky felt the walls she had built around her heart crumble as she whispered, "Y-yes, Kian."

***

Mary Joye.