(Chris's POV)
It's been two weeks since that night—two weeks since Will barged into our house, trying to help and ended up getting beaten by Papa. Every day since then, I, Chris, have been drowning in regret. If only I had done sothing that night—if only I had tried to stop them—maybe Will wouldn't have been hurt. Maybe if I had asked Will for his help instead of pushing him away, the outco would have been different. But I didn't. I just cowered in the corner, too terrified to stand up to my father.
I didn't ask Will for help because I was scared—scared that Papa would hurt him even more if he got involved. I know Will. He would have done anything I asked of him, but I was too afraid of what Papa might do. So, I stayed silent. I did nothing while my friend was suffering, and now that silence haunts .
The mory of that night replays in my mind over and over again. I regret not doing anything to stop Papa. I regret not saying sothing, anything, to make him stop. But most of all, I regret that Will had to pay the price for my fear. He was unconscious, defenseless, and still, Papa kept beating him. And I just stood there, frozen in place, too scared to move.
Since that night, I haven't left the house. I can't. If I go outside and by so chance run into Will, I don't know what I'd do. I'm terrified that he hates now—that he'll avoid because I didn't do anything to protect him. The thought of losing my best friend because of my cowardice is unbearable.
***
Papa wasn't always like this. He used to be kind, gentle even. He was a caring father who always looked out for Mama and . But everything changed when he ca back from the battlefield earlier this year. I still rember the day he returned.
We were so excited to see him, to welco him ho, but when he walked through the door, our joy turned to shock. He was missing his left arm. He said it got cut off by an ogre during a battle. As he told us about it, his face twisted in fear, and I could see that sothing inside him had changed. He was terrified—of the battlefield, of what had happened to him—and that fear has never left him.
In the first few days after he ca back, he was just irritable. Every little thing seed to annoy him, and he spent most of his ti drinking alcohol. Mama tried to comfort him, saying that he just needed ti to adjust, that he would go back to being his old self eventually. But he didn't.
A week later, the irritability turned into anger, and the anger turned into violence. He slapped Mama. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was just a one-ti thing, that he would never hurt her again, but I was wrong.
When Mama left to run so errands, he turned on . I had told him that I wanted to go to Will's house, that I couldn't bear to stay here and watch him drink himself into oblivion. But that only made him angrier.
"And what? Practice magic again with that brat? Do you think you can survive the battlefield with just that? That's what I'm saying to you—you shouldn't have that talent for magic!" he yelled, his voice full of bitterness. "Look at what happened to !"
I didn't say anything. I knew that in his current state, he wouldn't understand, no matter what I said. But my silence only fueled his anger.
"Don't ever go there again!" he shouted, his face twisted in rage.
"But, Papa..." I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. The thought of not seeing Will, my only friend, was too much to bear. But before I could say anything more, Papa's expression darkened.
"You dare to disobey , Chris?" His voice was low and nacing. "Co here!"
I was terrified, but I knew better than to disobey him when he was like this. I walked over to him, my heart pounding in my chest, and he grabbed the wooden sword that he kept by his side. He hit with it—again and again—until I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. When I started crying, he stopped, almost as if he had lost interest. I don't know what scared more—the pain or the look of cold indifference in his eyes.
When Mama ca ho an hour later, I told her what happened. She apologized for leaving alone, but I told her it wasn't her fault. She tried to reassure , saying that we wouldn't visit Will's house until Papa cald down, but she promised that we would go next week for sure. I nodded, too exhausted and too scared to argue.
Two days later, soone knocked on our door. I was surprised—it had been so long since we had any visitors. I ran to the door and opened it, only to find Will and Aunt Lily standing there. I panicked. What if they saw the bruises on my arms? I quickly hid them behind my back, but I think Will noticed because he started to say sothing. Before he could, Mama appeared behind , and he stopped.
Mama and Aunt Lily talked for a while. Aunt Lily asked why we hadn't visited and if everything was okay, but Mama just kept saying that everything was fine and that we would visit next week. But when Aunt Lily asked about Papa, Mama changed the subject and ended the conversation as quickly as she could.
After they left, Mama told that we shouldn't get Will and his family involved. She didn't want them to get hurt because of us, and I agreed. The last thing I wanted was for Will to be in danger because of what was happening in our house.
A week passed, and the day ca when we were supposed to visit Will's house. But as Mama and I had agreed, we didn't go. We couldn't—not until we had settled things with Papa. He was still drinking heavily, and he hadn't eaten anything since the day before. Mama tried to get him to eat sothing, but he just got angry. I tried to help, telling him that he needed to eat, but that only made things worse.
"Co here," he ordered, his voice cold and threatening. I was too scared to move. I knew what would happen if I went to him, but I also knew that if I didn't, he would co to . And that was even more terrifying.
He started to move toward , his eyes filled with a rage that I couldn't understand. I felt my body freeze up in fear, and I started to cry. I knew what was coming—I knew I was going to get hurt again.
Just as he was about to reach , the window shattered, and suddenly, Will was standing there, looking just as shocked as I was. For a mont, everything was still. Then Will's eyes fell on Papa's missing arm, and I could see the surprise in his expression.
Will and Papa started arguing, and I could see the anger in Papa's eyes growing with every word. Mama tried to intervene, tried to stop Will from saying sothing that would push Papa over the edge, but it was too late. Will wasn't backing down, and Papa wasn't going to let it slide. He was too far gone, too consud by whatever demons he had brought back from the battlefield.
Before I knew it, Papa was coming at Will, and Mama was trying to stop him. She begged Will to leave, to not get involved in our family's problems, but Papa wasn't listening to anyone anymore. He slapped Mama so hard that she fell to the floor, and that's when Will snapped. He tried to fight back, but he was no match for Papa. I watched in horror as Papa beat Will until he couldn't fight back anymore.
I couldn't do anything to stop it. I just stood there, helpless, as my best friend was beaten because I was too scared to stand up to my father.
Now, every ti I think about what happened, all I feel is regret. I regret not being able to do anything to protect Will. I regret not being strong enough to stop Papa. And most of all, I regret that Will had to suffer because of my cowardice.
I can't let Will see —not after what happened. I'm too afraid that he'll hate , that he'll bla for everything that's happened. And honestly, I wouldn't bla him if he did. I hate myself for what happened, so why wouldn't he?
But even though I'm too scared to face him, I can't stop thinking about him. I wonder if he's okay, if he's still hurting from what happened. I want to go to him, to apologize, to explain why I didn't do anything, but I can't. I'm too ashad, too afraid of what he might say.
So, I stay in the house, hiding from the world, hoping that soday I'll find the courage to face Will again. But until then, all I can do is live with the regret that haunts every day.
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