I Truly Believe all Power Corrupts

“Alexandria!” He called me from down the hall. His voice was harsh and loud. I walked through the dimly lit hallways down to the main stairway. He was standing tall and even from this distance I could see the anger evident in his black eyes. I stopped in front of him and he stared down at me. He ran his finger along the banister that was next to him and lifted his finger showing that it was slightly dusty.

“Look!” I cringed at the sound of his voice, “Look how dusty this is! I told you to clean this morning!” he boomed and I backed away from him, but he grabbed my blonde hair, pulling my tiny frame up to his eye level. My legs were dangling in mid air.

“I’m sorry” I choked out. My throat dry from the lack of water.

He threw me onto the ground hitting my head on the side of the table as I fell. Crawling up into a ball, I could feel the ground vibrate as he came closer.

“Alexandria” he knelt down and grabbed my chin forcing me to stare into his dark eyes.

“You are a disgusting little child. Don’t you dare speak back to me.” He shoved my head back. There was a throbbing pain from where I had hit my head before and I whimpered.

“QUIET!” his voice shook the whole mansion. I tried to crawl away from him but his foot met with my stomach. It hit me with such force I went flying across the hall. A painting fell down from the mahogany walls, the frame braking into thousands of pieces. I tried to stand up using the wall for support but due to my malnutrition and the recent beating, I couldn’t stand for long and fell back down. I could hear his spiteful laugh, mocking me.

Suddenly, from downstairs, the phone rang. He rushed from the hall and went downstairs. I pushed my blonde hair out of my face and tried to get back up. As he was on the phone, a plan to escape came to my mind. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins and all the pain seemed to disappear as I tiptoed down the stairs. The old wooden floorboards creaked under my lightweight. Reaching the old Victorian style front door, I slowly pushed down the handle and opened the door. Cold air rushed into the warm room. I stepped out into the winter chill, pulling my rags closer to my body.

I jumped down the few steps onto the hard concrete and sprinted as fast as my short legs could carry me. The impact of hitting the hard ground hurt but I blocked it out just as I had with the rest of the pain. Reaching the edge of the property, I had to climb over large black steel gates.

As I was struggling to get over the gate, I saw my worst nightmare. My so-called master had realised I had disappeared and was standing on the front porch. I froze as he looked directly at me and our eyes locked. He broke into a run as I scrambled over the rest of the gate landing with a loud thud on the other side. I picked myself up off the ground and wiped blood from a cut on my leg that I received when I fell to the ground. I could hear my name being called, each time being angrier than the last.

I went running down a deserted road, checking the approaching man over my shoulder every few seconds. At one stage, I thought I could possibly out run him but all the sports he had played when he was at boarding school gave him the upper hand. So therefore, he could easily catch me.

Grabbing me from around the throat, I struggled to breathe and my green eyes started to water. My lips were starting to go blue from the cold and lack of oxygen.

“Let’s get back to the mansion, I would rather have the pleasure of killing you myself then let the weather take you.” He said laughing at his own pathetic joke. I could feel my hair start to fall out as I struggled against his hold, as he dragged me back to the house. I tripped over one of the rocks and could not regain my balance because of the dizziness from the earlier attacks. The rocks cut my legs so bad I became numb to the pain.

The large house loomed ahead I was born in that horrible place and will probably die in the old house. He dragged me through the open doors and up the old staircase. As he was dragging me across the broken painting, part of the glass dug into one of the cuts on my leg. I screamed out in pain.

He immediately stopped and turned to stare at me, his large structure towering over my quivering form. Picking me up by my arm, he flung me across the hall. I slammed into the opposite wall. He grabbed my shoulders, pulling me and using his body to press me up into the wall, pushing all the oxygen out of my lungs. I coughed and splattered all over the place.

“Disgusting” he spat and pushed me away from him. A hand came flying at me and before I could react, it hit me on the side of my face. The rings on his hand caused deep cuts to form on my cheek. I could taste blood in my mouth because of my teeth bitting the inside of my lip that was preventing me from screaming out in pain. Screaming, as I learnt from experiences caused more pain.

He picked up my weak form roughly and threw me down the long flight of stairs. I hit my head on the first step and blacked out. My body fell into an odd shape at the bottom of the stairs.

My last thoughts were, ‘I truly believe all power corrupts’.

I am lying here as warm and darkness surrounds me. I feel more at peace now, then I have ever in my tragic life.