She thought being a ghost was supposed to be peaceful. Instead, she felt the most scared she ever had. To see her daughter there laying immobilized and bloody as he left the room, struck fear deep into her heart, and to be as powerless to prevent it as the shattered lamp on the floor left her feeling impotent. She wondered that if she had been around 2 years earlier, fleeing her home (when she was still in her right mind to do so) could have impacted the mental state and morbidity of her daughter. Though in the back of her mortified mind, she knows he would’ve found them.

He always did.

Never did they ever manage to escape; every purchased bus ticket to a town neither of them had heard of but far away enough to stay alive – he found them. Every last-minute plan to leave the house whilst he was still at work or gambling in some makeshift casino. He hunted them down: sniffing them out like a bull shark singles out its prey, before tearing it to shreds, leaving no sign of the animal but its blood, staining the water a nocuous vermillion. He was a malignant father and a lethal husband, so naturally, he made sure his wife and daughter were taught their ‘lesson’ for trying to leave.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Never forgetting, never willing to spare one marginal ounce of mercy, something always broke, and someone was always left broken.

Several minutes later, she noticed that her daughter, Adira, began to come round. Adira slowly sat up, ceramic lamp shards scattered around the outline of where her head was – mind still spinning as she tried to figure out how she came to be so bloodied and unconscious. Slowly, her daughter rose to stand, head still pounding as she dragged her feet toward the direction of her bed. He’s never been this bad before, her mother thought as she tried to recall all the times he hurt her, he’s been brutal with her before, but he’s never hurt Adira – she made him promise not to as long as she was alive, assuming she would be still alive now.

In recent days, Adira’s mother often wondered whether she should risk interfering as she should have done many years ago. No, no, her mind told her, the situation would only escalate, and how embarrassing would it be if everyone you know found out that her so-called fairy-tale husband is the same reason you quit her dream job, the same reason you find it hard to stay motivated every day – the very reason you don’t live in this house anymore; soon your daughter will leave and go to college and all will be well. Also, you’re dead, what does it matter now?

You are worthless, your daughter follows in your footsteps, a different voice told her, it’s a good job no one remembers you, I can do what I want now with no one to stop me. That daughter of yours belongs to me now. I am her father, and she will be treated how she deserves. Women these days: so hysterical. Just as he was leaving the room, something arose within her, she knew what she had to do. The breeze in the room suddenly changed direction and violently circled the room, running round and round and round before skidding to a stop and turning to frost. Windows were rattling under the vibrations of the wind bellowing inside. All the colour

“What the–?”

But he never got to finish his sentence before as his wife spoke up and told him the truth.

“For years I have suffered, treated in an inhumane way. Leave me alone or suffer the consequences. Whatever the decision, please, don’t let it end the same way it did last time.”

He spun around to see his daughter standing in the hallway: teeth greeted, eyes serious, blood trickling down the side of her forehead with the half-broken lamp still clutched in her hands.

“Look!”, Adira screamed.

“Look at what you’ve done! Beaten, broken, battered, bruised. That’s all I am now because that’s all you’ve done to me. IT’S. NOT. FAIR!”. Adira felt all the anger stampede out of her heart and into her words and actions, and before she knew it, the ceramic lamp base felt nice and heavy in her hands, the right weight to send someone into a nice deep sleep for all of eternity. Adrenaline raced through her veins. She leapt forward hand hoisted above her father’s head, ready to strike.

Bam!

Shards were sent crashing into the carpet and flying into the air. Laying in Adira’s hand wasn’t the lamp anymore, but the hand of her mother. Her father was still standing there, hands covering his head, but he was left untouched. Her mother had stopped her from hurting him. He remained the same sickly man on the outside, but on the inside, he was different, in his heart was something Adira had never seen before: fear and regret. Her mother warned her:

"Have the courage to act instead of react. Courage conquers all things: it even gives strength to the body."

“I don’t understand, he killed you just to hurt me”. Angry tears stormed into her harrowed eyes, barging out and trampling down her face.

"It takes courage for a person to listen to her own goodness and act on it. Be wise my love, kill him and become him, or show him compassion and rebuild him. You can change the world Adira Canmore, don’t let being a woman stop you from doing so. You are strong and I trust you will do the right thing."

She looked down at her father who was now trembling on the ground, grief engulfing him whole. Just behind him stood her mother’s mirror. In the reflection, she stood over her father looking with the same anger and hate that he looked at her with earlier.

“This isn’t me–”.

“No. No, it is not.”

Adira took compassion on her father, looked down at him once more and hugged him.

“I love you, Father, let me help you change your mindset, and together we will change the minds of all those that once thought as you did”.