By Zephyria 
He felt momentarily bewildered by an unfamiliar sensation. That sense of dissonance blurred the boundary between fantasy and reality for Chrissy. As he lay there blinking, his vision gradually grew hazy. If I fall asleep, this man might tie me up again. Chrissy let out a weak laugh at the sudden thought. What does it matter? I’m too exhausted. I just want to rest. Nothing else occupied his mind.
Nathaniel watched in silence as Chrissy let out a deep sigh and drifted back into sleep. It didn’t take long before the sleeping man’s breathing grew ragged, and Nathaniel realized that Chrissy had fallen back into a nightmare.
“Why won’t you let me work? It’s only a few hours a day!”
His mother was pleading with his father. She hadn’t dared to utter a single complaint, fearing he might grow to hate her. However, as his visits grew infrequent and the living expenses dwindled, she felt she had no choice. In desperation, she found a job in town, but when she told his father—who had returned after two months—he flew into a rage.
“Work? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Didn’t I tell you to stay home and look after the kid? You’re probably just flirting with the women in town—what do you mean, ‘work’!”
“That’s not true!”
His mother struggled to persuade his father.
“Everyone is working to earn money. I don’t even have a cup of tea with them. I know you hate it when I work, so I’ve been as careful as possible.”
Exhausted, his mother pressed a hand to her forehead and asked in a drained voice.
“Why on earth won’t you let me work? We don’t have enough for living expenses. You only came back after two months this time, too. You barely visit, yet you give us less money than before…”
“Shut up!”
Finally, his father screamed and struck the wall. The wooden wall let out a loud crack as a large hole was punched through it. Hiding behind the sofa, Chrissy curled his body tight, unable to even breathe in the menacing atmosphere.
Turning pale, his mother covered her mouth with both hands and stared at his father. It was the first time she had seen him be so violent, and she was visibly terrified.
Seeing his mother staring at him, unable to speak, his father’s anger subsided slightly. He let out a stifled sigh and opened his arms, approaching her. As she recoiled in fear, he grabbed her, pulled her into an embrace, and patted her back.
“We can just eat a bit less and save. My income hasn’t been great lately, so please understand. I’m trying, too. I can’t visit you often because I’m working constantly.”
His mother said nothing. It reminded Chrissy of a rabbit caught in a trap, trembling without even thinking of escaping, but there was nothing he could do for her.
“Now, enough of that talk. Your body is hot. Your cycle has come, hasn’t it? Let’s go upstairs and make up—very hotly.”
His father, seemingly in a good mood again, hoisted his mother up like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and slapped her buttocks hard. His mother screamed, but he laughed loudly and struck the same spot again with his palm. When Chrissy, who had been peeking while curled up, locked eyes with his mother, she immediately looked away. For a moment, Chrissy thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. With his mother slung over his shoulder, his father strode up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut. That day, the faint sounds of his mother’s moans and screams drifted through the wall. And Chrissy could not sleep for a very long time.
The next morning, his mother woke up at her usual time and was preparing breakfast. As Chrissy went downstairs rubbing his eyes, he felt something strange about her back as she cooked eggs, as she always did. Sensing his presence, his mother turned around and spotted him.
“Are you awake?”
Her smiling face was no different from any other morning. Chrissy nodded and hurried to sit at the dining table. After placing milk and cereal in front of him, his mother brought out a plate with grilled sausages and eggs. Just then, his father came down the stairs with thumping footsteps.
“Good morning, Iliana.”
His father whispered into his mother’s ear and squeezed her buttocks firmly. For a split second, his mother looked toward Chrissy. At the time, it was difficult to realize that the expression she wore was one of humiliation and shame. He simply thought she looked very uncomfortable.
“Sit down, breakfast is ready.”
His mother gently pushed his father away and moved quickly. With a satisfied look, his father whistled and sat in the seat opposite Chrissy, returning to the persona of the affectionate father.
“Eat slowly, don’t spill.”
Due to an inexplicable sense of dissonance, Chrissy couldn’t bring himself to answer and simply avoided it. It was a strange morning. It seemed the same as always, yet it was so different. A sharp tension, held breathlessly in the air, kept making Chrissy anxious. While he continued to poke around in his bowl, pretending to eat his cereal, his mother began to speak as she tore and ate a piece of stale bread.
“I’ll quit the job.”
His father cut the sausage without a word. As if it were such an obvious statement that it wasn’t worth reacting to, his mother gently placed her hand on the back of his father’s hand—the one holding the knife—and murmured low, as if sharing a secret.
“My next cycle is in three weeks.”
Only then did his father stop and stare at her. His mother looked at him pleadingly and continued.
“You don’t have to bring more money, just please come home. I’m begging you. Don’t make me endure the heat alone.”
He looked down at his mother’s slender fingers slowly stroking the back of his hand. When their eyes met again, the corners of his father’s mouth softened into a smile.
“Alright, I’ll do that.”
Then, he pulled his hand away from hers and lowered it beneath the table. As his mother flinched, his father chuckled and said,
“My slutty little whore.”
For some reason, she hurriedly checked Chrissy’s reaction across the table and used both hands to forcibly pull his father’s arm away. As she quickly stood up from her chair and leaned her hands on the sink, gasping for air, his father smirked and continued eating.
“Then I’ll come in three weeks.”
In a manner completely different from the previous night, he kissed Chrissy’s cheek and then his mother’s lips before getting into the car. Chrissy stood in front of the house with his mother, watching the car drive away. His mother didn’t say a word, merely watching the tail of the car as it hurried away. She only spoke once the car had completely vanished from sight.
“Don’t worry, Chrissy. Mommy has a plan.”
He looked up, puzzled, but his mother was still staring in the direction the car had disappeared. Hesitating, Chrissy spoke cautiously.
“What do you mean, Mommy?”
Only then did his mother shift her gaze down to Chrissy. Giving a gentle smile to her son, who truly did not understand, she affectionately stroked his hair, took his hand, and turned back toward the house.
“Shall we have pancakes for dinner tonight, Chrissy?”
At his mother’s question, Chrissy immediately forgot what had just happened and answered excitedly.
“Really? I’d love to! With syrup too?”
In truth, they had run out of syrup quite some time ago. However, his mother said something unexpected.
“Of course. With syrup, and ice cream too.”
At the amazing news, Chrissy became excited, his voice rising naturally.
“Really? Syrup and ice cream? Can we really eat it all? Did Daddy give you a lot of money? Really?”
To his repeated exclamations, his mother simply smiled quietly and nodded. Completely unaware that she had no intention of quitting her job, and that she had decided she would not cut back on anything for her child, the boy simply cheered in excitement. And after three peaceful weeks passed.
Finally, that day arrived.